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Post by rumsztyk on Dec 26, 2017 16:08:53 GMT -8
"Hm." Miles hummed quietly, as BeeBee's rambling continued seemingly unabated. He listened to her - or seemed to - with an unashamed stare.
As his right hand began to work on the noodles, the other banged a quiet, slightly impatient rhythm against the table. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, staring at BeeBee with increased intensity, fingers lifted in mid air. However, after a quick glance to Pale-Wolf sitting opposite to him, the palm was laid flat on the table gently and slid down. So did his gaze, now examining the noodles.
"London, huh." He started, casually, inbetween spoonfulls of ramen. "This venture does draw people from all kinds of places. Myself, I grew up in NYC."
His contribution to the small talk was made. Now with mouth full, he flicked his eyes between Pale-Wolf and Lenoir. Silence invited a reply.
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Post by relentless on Dec 26, 2017 16:43:20 GMT -8
"Aye, you'll have to give a moment however. No way in hell I'm hauling this thing with my own guns."
Tiberion patted his left bicep, giving it a presentorial flex toward the flamethrower woman, before chuckling and cracking his knuckles with a toothy smile. His hand ran up to the rugged and tightly bound helm of his power armour from behind, running his hands down to the back, before he ran his hands off and clapped his hands together once. Almost immediately would the power armour whir and automatically straight up, its slow heavy form raising upward with similar speed to that of a conveyor belt. Eventually, it would stop with this whirring noise, and a flush of power audibly flooded the area around him, with the orange lights flashing intensely for a second before remaining at an eye catching warm orange, mostly prominent behind the kevlar joints and the plated barbute visor.
The back would slowly open up with two abrupt pauses, with the gap that had been closed before opening and folding on opposite sides to allow for Tiberion to get into place. He looked toward Marcy, and nodded toward her once before he began to whistle a countryside style tune, feet being placed individually into each foothold. His feet would compress against a mallable rubber, a sensory device detecting a human-like mass entering the compartment. Once Tiberion was fully situated inside, with each limb pressed inside the exoskeleton, the back would suddenly snap shut at slingshot speed, but with no clanging occuring. A flawless mechanism, apparently.
The dish like device would release itself from a small compartment tucked away on the side of the interior armour, descending from above, and then slowly pressing itself very firmly against his back. Soon after would the screws be picked up by one robotic limb within, which appeared very thin with a clamp like design at the end, and another which was designed as a high powered rivet drill. At high efficiency would the screws be positioned by one limb then quickly screwed in with a quiet whir of the drill limb.
A minute would pass and Tiberion would be fully connected into his power armour, where the mech would remain silent for a brief moment, only to turn 90 degress toward Marcy, raising the mace that seemed stuck to his metal, large hand.
"Let's see whats kickin' around in this bucket, ey?"
Tiberion proposed with a radio buzz flickering on, the orange glow of his barbute visor shining at her with less intensity as car lights, but close to such intensity. Eventually, he would start moving at his 'giant like' pace, one foot over the over in clunky movements. The metallic whir sounded off again in symphony, marching toward Marcy in stride.
"Might wanna moooove!"
Tiberion suggested with a robotic chuckle through the radio, jaggedly cranking his head over to the door and back to Marcy, unable to flick his head like a normal human beneath the armour, since he had a lot of mass on his head which could be dangerous.
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Post by Unter on Dec 27, 2017 9:37:53 GMT -8
*Name: Eirik Honecker *Age:
26 *Gender:
Male *Class:
Special-Forces Skills:(Great Welding, Decent knitting, Bad cooking, etc. etc.) Inspiration : Eirik uses his training as an officer to bolster his comrades. Zealous : He won't stop unless this hill is taken. Awful at "not combat" activities : He has basically no training in welding, cooking, and everything that doesn't involve his sword and pistol. Ethnicity:
Caucasian Accent:
A light Ostgerman touch plagues his tongue. However, most of the time he can speak a neutral english. Height:
1.85 meters (~6 feet) tall Weight:
90 kilos
Cybernetics:
One of his eyes is modified, and is now multi-purpose : He can switch to heat vision, so that he can detect things in the dark. The eye has also a tiny analysis algorithm ; It detects advantageous position, and can scan objects, to detect potential danger for Eirik. Otherwise, Eirik has some minor strength enhancing cybernetics in the arms and the legs. Items:
His cavalry sword, inherited from his great great grandfather that was once a noble. His regulation pistol that he received from the military academy : Engraved with symbols, it packs quite a punch. This is why his arms received a strength enhancement. (For a reference, it looks like this ) He carries multiple ammo pack, enough to feed his gun firing for an hour uninterrupted. He also carries a field knife, with a big blade used for field utility.
*Appearance:
He isn't a big man. Slender, with narrow shoulders and long legs. He seldom wear civil clothes, as he prefer showing off in uniforms in special occasions, and in the "everyday" situations, he wears a simple military garb. He has a few civil elegant coats, but he doesn't like to wear them. His uniform is an elaborated USSR officer garment. (Ostdeutschland style, like this ) His face is smooth, with deep blue eyes and disciplined blond hair cut pretty short. He has a small nose, and thin lips. *Biography: Eirik was a son of an officer, himself son of an officer. His blood scream of war, it reeks of glory. He spent all of his childhood for war, and all of his adolescence for the perfection of warfare. He studied at the best military academy of East Germany, and studied the soviet art of war. He was convinced that war was needed for world peace. But the long years of the cold war disgruntled him : There was no open conflict. Would his entire life be for nothing ? He refused that option. There was an underground fortress in Mother Russia, where the danger and the need for greatness was dire. He stayed five years there, but he never operated in the battlefield. Officers trained in military academies were sent to basic duties, such as aid for an experienced commander. Eirik didn't like that. After five long years, he deserted. He fled the USSR and found another spot diving into the darkness of the Dungeon. A place called the Crawler. There, he would make his marks. Eirik stepped out of the elevator leading to the Crawler. He took hold of the air, the scent of this place. It reeked of fear and grim determination. He looked for a while at the passing pedestrians. His eyes analysed and stored the information of this place in his mind. A bar, a whorehouse, an arms dealer... Everything needed for a soldier. For now, he needed only rest and food. He headed to the bar, stepped inside and approached the barman. He was lightly dressed, with his normal military garment. The heat of the Crawler still seeped into his body, like a slow poison. He asked for some noodles and for something to drink, and sat down awaiting for his order. |
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Post by Outisakanobody on Jan 5, 2018 0:54:58 GMT -8
Feeling his current conservation was going nowhere fast, he decided to move on to greener pastures. He suddenly stood, not really caring if he was being rude, and headed to the bar. He noticed a man there, and took note of his appearance. His uniform may have been bland, but it looked clean. Pristine, even. Sean had been in the military long enough to know that mean one one of a few things. The most likely option, to him, was that this man was an officer. He had no special dislike for his kind. He had seen good ones as well as bad, so he wasn't going to be too quick to judge. He could at least give a conversation a shot.
"Aye, Ivan. Grabbing your daily vodka ration?" he started, vaguely recognizing the uniform markings from a few "contractors" he had meet in Africa.
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Post by Unter on Jan 5, 2018 1:13:13 GMT -8
Eirik got what he ordered : Some alcohol drink he did not even recognise and some noodles. He started eating when the military guy approached and spoke to him. He fixed him with both of his eyes.
"I'll let you know..." His eyes, especially his cybernetic augment, examined Sean from head to toe before finishing his sentence.
"Mister, that I'm not Russian and should you continue like that my "Soviet" fist will come crashing into your teeth."
He looked grim for a moment, but suddenly his face went all smooth, and he laughed.
"Ha! That was actually a good joke. But please, I'm not a russian. I was a member of the proud Free People of the Democratische Deutschlands Republik. You americans call it east germany.
My name's Eirik. What's yours?"
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Post by Outisakanobody on Jan 5, 2018 1:24:18 GMT -8
"You European countries are always so confusing. No idea of how to distinguish yourselves. Look at your flags!" Sean says with a laugh. "Call me Sean. Nice to meet someone who isn't too much of a sad sack." the bomber-man says while resting his elbows on the bar.
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Post by Unter on Jan 5, 2018 1:37:05 GMT -8
Eirik took a sip of the alcohol beverage. It tasted like water mixed with a tad of beer. Is that what the West liked?
"Well you know, the Soviet Union tried to make flags simpler. One flag for all of Europe. But I don't know why, you americans didn't like that, and now here we are." He finished his drink in one go : It was too disgusting to like. Maybe the next time he should specify what he would like. The barman was german, he should have a sense of alcohol.
"Have you been in this place long? I just arrived. I don't know anything except that there is good fighting to be done here."
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Post by Outisakanobody on Jan 5, 2018 1:48:03 GMT -8
"Oh I wouldn't know anything about fighting. I'm just a humble chemist and civil engineer." Sean said, though his military grade armor and weapons would beg to differ.
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Post by Unter on Jan 5, 2018 4:43:46 GMT -8
Eirik examined Sean again.
"Right... What kind of "chemistry" ? I don't think anyone here needs fireworks. Or do they?"
He finished his noodles and sighed.
He pointed at the empty noodles pot, and looked at Sean
"Is that all they serve here ? I'm disappointed. In the Fortress, You can eat caviar and every russian delicacy you may ever ask.
And the alcohol here ? Urgh, awful."
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Post by Outisakanobody on Jan 5, 2018 8:16:04 GMT -8
"You can always find a use for explosives." Sean says with a wink. "As for the bar, I would go for a nice burger myself. Maybe try the Jaeger next time." he added, remembering his own drink fondly.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 5, 2018 9:30:50 GMT -8
/Pale-Wolf/
"... And rats and pigs play cat and mouse; down in the tubes." Pale offered with a comradic smile, his icy cragged face splitting like a glacier to some menial wamrth as he rapped his knuckles on the table. Partly to get Bee-Bee's attention back as he cleared his throat, nodding at her;
"I worked security for chums in the Silver linings and the Undersides..." He explained, his smile widening as he looked down to his long since emptied bowl of ramen.
His amber eyes glanced up to Miles now. Squinting up; his brows furrowing in strained recollection before nodding,
"Mmm, New York, though... Never stayed there long but from a glance... Place isn't as cut clean as London." He gave an acknowledging, maybe even apologetic nod to Bee-Bee.
"It is all grey steel, grey dirt, and red blood from skyline to sewers. Difference from London to New York; they keep one part at least looking clean." He gruffed, shaking his head.
Pausing, as he noted Lenoir's shifting of hands, his gaze lingered before motioning to Lenoir.
"Excuse me... But I do not think you told us where you're from." He offered with a slightly widened flare of teeth, before his features slowly settled back to their stoic state; relaxing back into his chair slowly as he brought a hand to hang over the side of the balcony, leaning into the structure slightly...
\\
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Post by Unter on Jan 6, 2018 5:10:47 GMT -8
Eirik looked confused for a moment.
"A burger ? What's that ? I've never seen that in my life, and never heard of it either.
I wonder if they have a good beer in this place. I know that in the Fortress, there was no alcohol worthy of my mouth, I hope it's not the same here."
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Post by Outisakanobody on Jan 6, 2018 12:42:48 GMT -8
"Come on now, Kaiser, hamburger! That must ring a bell." Sean says, not really believing that this guy didn't know about this very common food. "I've never been one for beer either."
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Post by Unter on Jan 7, 2018 4:39:36 GMT -8
Eirik still didn't catch what a burger was;
"You know, in the Soviet Union, everything the West has is not very common there. I don't really care about what's there myself, I judge we had all we needed. Bah, no matter."
He rearrange his seat, so that he feels more comfortable.
"Did you ever go down there ? At the front lines ?"
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Post by Outisakanobody on Jan 7, 2018 18:43:00 GMT -8
"Ah forget about the burger thing." Sean says with a wave of his hand. "I don't go to the front lines much, no. I'm either behind my own, or behind the enemies'." he says looking down at his bag of tricks.
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