Arestabol
09-11-2008, 05:53
Gears of War-mania has set its talons in me. Please fill out the application provided below and post it in the OOC thread, and only post upon approval by me. Each player is to be in the same squad. Only human characters, as it is the only perspective that allows the story to be pushed forward. OOC Thread: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=572068
Name:
Age:
Rank:
Description:
Prefered Weapon(s):
History (why is he fighting; how long; etc.):
__________________________________________________________________
Name: Carlos "Grease" Waters
Age: 32
Rank: Staff Sergeant
Description: Underneath the dark blue helmet holds a scarred face. A wound had long ago healed over itself along the right side of his eye, missing the actual organ by half an inch. Squared jaw, as was the norm for a Gear, held a light stubble that could never quite seem to make it past a quarter of an inch. Slicked black hair (hence the nickname) was always held down by the gel he kept with him in his field kit, along with his switch-comb. Toned frame seemed bulky and cumbersome underneath the jutting armour issued to him. Just another faceless soldier in the sea of glowing-eyed, helmeted COGS. Ready to serve and fight for humanity's survival on Sera.
Prefered Weapon(s): Standard-issued Lancer rifle.
History: A former Stranded who had been left behind after E-Day with his family and friends, Carlos and his family were eventually evacuated from a city under threat of being sunk down underneath the planet's surface. In exchange for his family's safekeeping, Carlos was drafted and shoved into the front lines to fight against the Locust Horde. Carlos was bitter against the fascist COG regime for its right-wing policies and corporate-like behaviour concerning the treatment of its population. Still, the hate for the Locust overrode that for the COG government.
The Story:
The smoke rose up from the earth, charred and blackened from days of mortar fire. Huge craters littered the surface -- not from artillery shells, but from emergence holes which conveyed dozens of Locust drones at a time. The charred bones of the fallen littered around the area, the ruined hulks of Centaur tanks and massive assault derricks scattered at intervals. Apparently the artillery had done its job well. Entire forests were flattened and burned from the weeks of skirmishing between the two forces. Even with the stillness of the used up battlefield, the sounds of distant gunfire and explosions still rocked the once-serene mountain air. Overhead, chalks of King Ravens buzzed towards another combat zone, transporting fresh supplies and rienforcements.
Inside one of the Ravens, Carlos Waters sat near the edge of the chopper's opening, one armoured leg dangling out lazily as the bird flew over the ruined ground. The Gear watched as the scene flew by at a hurried pace, made so by the pilot's worry of Nemecyst still in the area. The jellyfish-like creatures spawned from Seeders acted as flying mines and anti-air interceptors, causing havoc for Raven pilots. No need to stick around in an area for too long and let nearby Nemecysts gain a lock. The Raven flew into a column of smoke originating from a burning assault derrick. The stench of burning flesh told the story of its occupants failure to escape in time. Carlos' helmet thankfully filtured out the smoke, allowing him the pleasure of clean air -- a real benefit for the soldier on the battlefield to breath easier and see clearly (of course ranged visibility, such as when looking for snipers, was limited). Radio chatter picked up again once they cleared the burning fields.
"This is Gamma Six Niner, approaching red smoke. Please advise, over."
A pause as the radio was momentarily filled with muffled voices and sporadic gunfire. "This is Sergeant Jasentes, we copy Gamma Six Nine. LZ is hot, repeat hot. We had Nemecysts close to your vector, advise to head to Blue Square plaza for dropoff. Dead and wounded are awaiting pickup at advised location. Over."
"Copy that. Heading to new vector. Out."
The chalk of KRs banked steeply to lower their altitude. Now pointed in the direction of Centiglobe City, their course was set and steady. Flying in low to avoid detection, the large group of aircrafts shuddered slightly from turbulence before dipping down low again. Their speed gradually decreased before they reached the city's limits. Weaving in between buildings, each Raven was responsible for its precious cargo inside. A large explosion, followed by a terrifying shriek overcame the Raven's flight sounds.
"Reavers!" a pilot shouted. Carlos tucked himself into the Raven, expecting a bumpy ride down.
"Son of a bitch is on my six! I-I can't shake him! Gamma Four One being pursued by enemy contact. He's on me! Chaingun is overhea- Aaagh-"
The radio stuttered before sinking into white noise. The grim mood in Carlos' Raven took a steep nosedive.
"Gamma Four One is down. Requesting air-cover from ground units."
"Copy that, we've got your asses."
Carlos finally managed to open his eyes when the pit of his stomach was lifted as the bird slowly descended down into an open plaza. On the ground, Gears were running to their posts, the dead and wounded lined up along the open ground, ready to be shipped back to Jacinto, the beacon of hope for humanity. Carlos glanced at his commanding officer, his fist held high in the air ready to give the signal. Four feet above the ground, the officer drove his fist forward in a rigid pistoning motion.
"Go! Go! Go!"
Carlos leapt from the chopper and landed heavily on his feet. Gamma Squad had arrived.
Name:
Age:
Rank:
Description:
Prefered Weapon(s):
History (why is he fighting; how long; etc.):
__________________________________________________________________
Name: Carlos "Grease" Waters
Age: 32
Rank: Staff Sergeant
Description: Underneath the dark blue helmet holds a scarred face. A wound had long ago healed over itself along the right side of his eye, missing the actual organ by half an inch. Squared jaw, as was the norm for a Gear, held a light stubble that could never quite seem to make it past a quarter of an inch. Slicked black hair (hence the nickname) was always held down by the gel he kept with him in his field kit, along with his switch-comb. Toned frame seemed bulky and cumbersome underneath the jutting armour issued to him. Just another faceless soldier in the sea of glowing-eyed, helmeted COGS. Ready to serve and fight for humanity's survival on Sera.
Prefered Weapon(s): Standard-issued Lancer rifle.
History: A former Stranded who had been left behind after E-Day with his family and friends, Carlos and his family were eventually evacuated from a city under threat of being sunk down underneath the planet's surface. In exchange for his family's safekeeping, Carlos was drafted and shoved into the front lines to fight against the Locust Horde. Carlos was bitter against the fascist COG regime for its right-wing policies and corporate-like behaviour concerning the treatment of its population. Still, the hate for the Locust overrode that for the COG government.
The Story:
The smoke rose up from the earth, charred and blackened from days of mortar fire. Huge craters littered the surface -- not from artillery shells, but from emergence holes which conveyed dozens of Locust drones at a time. The charred bones of the fallen littered around the area, the ruined hulks of Centaur tanks and massive assault derricks scattered at intervals. Apparently the artillery had done its job well. Entire forests were flattened and burned from the weeks of skirmishing between the two forces. Even with the stillness of the used up battlefield, the sounds of distant gunfire and explosions still rocked the once-serene mountain air. Overhead, chalks of King Ravens buzzed towards another combat zone, transporting fresh supplies and rienforcements.
Inside one of the Ravens, Carlos Waters sat near the edge of the chopper's opening, one armoured leg dangling out lazily as the bird flew over the ruined ground. The Gear watched as the scene flew by at a hurried pace, made so by the pilot's worry of Nemecyst still in the area. The jellyfish-like creatures spawned from Seeders acted as flying mines and anti-air interceptors, causing havoc for Raven pilots. No need to stick around in an area for too long and let nearby Nemecysts gain a lock. The Raven flew into a column of smoke originating from a burning assault derrick. The stench of burning flesh told the story of its occupants failure to escape in time. Carlos' helmet thankfully filtured out the smoke, allowing him the pleasure of clean air -- a real benefit for the soldier on the battlefield to breath easier and see clearly (of course ranged visibility, such as when looking for snipers, was limited). Radio chatter picked up again once they cleared the burning fields.
"This is Gamma Six Niner, approaching red smoke. Please advise, over."
A pause as the radio was momentarily filled with muffled voices and sporadic gunfire. "This is Sergeant Jasentes, we copy Gamma Six Nine. LZ is hot, repeat hot. We had Nemecysts close to your vector, advise to head to Blue Square plaza for dropoff. Dead and wounded are awaiting pickup at advised location. Over."
"Copy that. Heading to new vector. Out."
The chalk of KRs banked steeply to lower their altitude. Now pointed in the direction of Centiglobe City, their course was set and steady. Flying in low to avoid detection, the large group of aircrafts shuddered slightly from turbulence before dipping down low again. Their speed gradually decreased before they reached the city's limits. Weaving in between buildings, each Raven was responsible for its precious cargo inside. A large explosion, followed by a terrifying shriek overcame the Raven's flight sounds.
"Reavers!" a pilot shouted. Carlos tucked himself into the Raven, expecting a bumpy ride down.
"Son of a bitch is on my six! I-I can't shake him! Gamma Four One being pursued by enemy contact. He's on me! Chaingun is overhea- Aaagh-"
The radio stuttered before sinking into white noise. The grim mood in Carlos' Raven took a steep nosedive.
"Gamma Four One is down. Requesting air-cover from ground units."
"Copy that, we've got your asses."
Carlos finally managed to open his eyes when the pit of his stomach was lifted as the bird slowly descended down into an open plaza. On the ground, Gears were running to their posts, the dead and wounded lined up along the open ground, ready to be shipped back to Jacinto, the beacon of hope for humanity. Carlos glanced at his commanding officer, his fist held high in the air ready to give the signal. Four feet above the ground, the officer drove his fist forward in a rigid pistoning motion.
"Go! Go! Go!"
Carlos leapt from the chopper and landed heavily on his feet. Gamma Squad had arrived.