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Crownteeth (#39277) Bone Collector View Forum Posts Posted on 2017-01-06 03:41:48	*” Picking a side can sometimes be the hardest thing to do, no matter what you think is truly right...But there will always be a butterfly effect…”* Shifters, humans with the ability to move from the shape of man to the shape of a beast. They have waged war against man for having treated them as less than they are claiming that they are the superior species in every way. Humans, simple beings who are a species that simply want to survive in peace yet claim to be superior to all other species. Superhumans, human beings with abilities that mark them as extremely dangerous; the ability to shift body parts at will, control the minds of animals, freeze entire objects, and much more, hiding from both sides of the war for fear of extermination. Superhumans have long since been marked as a mistake, abominations; they’ve suffered testing, abuse, violence, attacks, and on more than one occasion a “City Killer” has been used in the Shifter-Human war because of their power. They have long since been forced into hiding as normal humans among the public and never exposing themselves. It took nearly a hundred years before there was peace between the Shifters and Humans, an uneasy peace with too many laws and to still too much hatred on both sides. One simple mistake could spiral both sides right back into a war that could wipe out both species. But underground, hidden from the eyes of shifters and humans alike, another war wages that will affect them all. The Superhumans have split into two separate warring groups, battling each other for peace. The Blackhawk group, who fights to restart the Shifter-Human wars in hopes to eradicate both species to save the Superhumans from being found and eradicated by the humans. They fight to save their own species at the cost of the other two species with the belief that all Superhumans are much more superior because of the powers they possess. There is also the opposing group known as the Crossfire group, who fights to keep the humans and shifters alike safe and at peace from the Blackhawk, believing that everyone deserves to have a chance at peace. They are for equality and believe that no one should die for the sake of others. But the real question is, what side will you fight on? Blackhawk Ranking System .:Warlord:.{0/1}The boss of the group. Their word is law and they have final say on any and all matters that directly involve the group. They will assign attacks, patrols, missions, trainees, and tend to stay in the shadow so as not to draw attention to themselves. They will be the most powerful in the group. .:Four Horseman:.{1/4}These are the faces of the public, they are the ones who pull strings when out among the human and find targets. They are trained to track, find, and either gather information and eliminate. They are the warlord’s militia and personal assassins, acting as the one to fully dish out assignments to the fighters. .:Shamans:.{0/2}They are healers who help their team through human medicine or their own powers. .:Fighters:.{Unlimited} These are the people who patrol, go shopping for groceries, fight and defend the base, go through with major attacks, and act as soldiers loyal to the warlord. .:Trainees:.{0/3}These are the youngest members of the groups who are learning to be a fighter or shaman {16 to 18.} Crossfire Ranking System .:President:.{0/1}This is the head honcho, they act as the leader and face of the Crossfire group. They make the final decision on any topic and to challenge them is to risk being thrown out for mutiny. They assign patrols, give missions, and assign patrols. They will be the most powerful in the group. .:Vice Presidents:.{0/4}These are the ‘militia’ for the president and act as guards for them, they are trained to be both medics and soldiers and are loyal only to the president. It is there job to protect the president and hold the power when the president either cannot be found or happens to die. .:Medics:.{1/2}These are the healers, using both power and human medicines to heal their group members. .:Soldiers:.{Unlimited}These are the people who patrol, go shopping for groceries, fight and defend the base, and act as soldiers loyal to the president. .:Apprentices:.{0/3}This are younger members {16 to 18 years old.} Character Sheets View and Post Character Sheets You have liked this post! 0 players like this post! Like? Edited on 06/01/17 @ 10:44:42 by (~Shiba-Keeba~) (#39277)

Saeginko (#34696)

Usual
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Posted on
2017-02-17 13:09:13

Saeginko (#34696)

Usual
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Posted on
2017-02-17 13:09:13

#304439738765

Mark ”Hearken” Riverview | 24 years | Blackhawk | Horseman
Electricity
Location: Abandoned Rookfield Asylum
Mentions: None, Open for Interaction
{Slight Mentions: None}

(My muse has really been running on low lately, so I can’t really think of anything for him right now. He’s still open.)

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Carson “Rogue” Ashwood | 23 years | Crossfire | Soldier
Invisibility | Teleportation
Location: La Blancae Hotel
Mentions: Zhaleh, Open for Interaction
{Slight Mentions: Lucielle}

Rogue left the hallway and headed into the kitchen, noting that that was where most of the others were located. Despite how many people were wandering about and chatting, Rogue couldn’t see Lucielle anywhere in sight. Since he wasn’t too keen on searching for her anyway, he found himself deciding against looking for her any longer. Oh well. His headache was sort of tolerable, so he supposed he should just suffer through it. It wasn’t debilitating, at least, even if it didn’t feel amazing.

Rogue slid along the wall, avoiding everyone and watching them with wary gray eyes. Since he was wearing his jacket’s hoodie and had his hair covering his eyes, his vision wasn’t up to par. Because of this and the fact he was looking to the side, he almost ran straight into Zhaleh. Only the sliver of the president in the corner of his peripheral vision kept him from barreling into the other man. He jerked to a stop a safe distance away from Zhaleh, quickly taking a couple steps back. He was aware that Zhaleh preferred staying away from people with the instability of his ice, so backing off was the only smart idea, really.

“Oh, uh, sorry, sir,” he apologized. His awkwardness almost came off as anger, which was what just about half of all his emotions were projected as. He always referred to Zhaleh as ‘sir,’ since he was never sure how the president felt about him. The man probably disliked him; it wasn’t like Rogue was a nice guy or anything. The least he could do was be respectful as he could to the guy. Trying to stop himself from making a fool of himself, he asked, “Hey, have you seen Lucielle around anywhere?”

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Mikey Brotherson | 16 years | Blackhawk | Trainee
Telepathy | Wings
Location: Old Autoshop
Mentions: None
{Slight Mentions: Lurking Mc.Weirdo}

Mikey idly twisted the piece of straw-wrapper around the other one, arching it up into a neck. He didn’t know for sure if his habit of making little animals and objects out of whatever he could get his hands on was weird, but that didn’t stop him from doing it. It kept him from doing it in front of other people, but it was usually something he did when there was nothing else to do. His ADHD - ADD? He couldn’t remember what was said he had from so long ago, whichever one it was - usually worked up when he held still for too long, so the only real solution was to do something that required moving. He preferred to go the possibly odd-yet-artistic-ish route.

Since Mikey was forty percent engaged in what he was doing and sixty percent engaged in spacing off and thinking of nothing in particular, he didn’t hear the quiet sound of the door opening in the other room; chances were he wouldn’t have caught it anyway, with it being near-silent as it was. Not that Mikey would even have bothered to look around and listen in the first place. He was a true master of attentiveness.

Finishing the little straw-wrapper giraffe, he set the little thing down on the rickety table. One of the legs of the table was broken off, so Mikey had to improvise and stack various items in a tower to act as a new leg. It worked well-enough as long as he didn’t swipe it with his wing, which he may be guilty of unintentionally doing a few times in the past. A few dozen. There were far too many moments when he had to pluck fragile, tiny, or both creatures from the hard floor of the autoshop from that. Nothing had ever irreparably broken apart upon falling to the ground, though, which was good. The worst that had happened was that one of the toothpick-and-string cats had a screwed-up front leg.

Mikey hopped up from the stool and wandered away from the table, his wings spread halfway out as they typically did. This small room of the autoshop was formerly used for storage, or that’s what Mikey presumed it was used for. Not like there was anything in here to indicate what its true purpose was. The entire inside of the building was ransacked, and with the lack of human presence, cleanliness certainly couldn’t be said of it. But this room had a clean floor and everything in the room was organized, courtesy of Mikey. Not that Mikey was very organized in general, but it was better than letting the room he used fall into ruin like the rest of it.

He began to whistle under his breath as he idly swiped some dust off one of the few tables, entirely unaware that there was someone else in the building and could probably hear him.

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