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The forum will be undergoing maintenance as things progress forward. SMF2 is a little buggy on our forum, and I will be working to iron out some of those bugs, and to restore the forum to a similar and familiar home for us to the one that we used to have.
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Topic Summary
Posted by: Sir Modemkill, Cyborg!
« on: March 05, 2010, 11:41:47 am »
"Thirty years you've been missing Ryan..."
James caught the carton of smokes in mid air, he was wearing leather gloves.
It was true James had not aged a single day since that fatefull day down in the tombs of the secronum labs, he figured it had something to do with the virus, James had learned to conceal the mutations on his body, thankfully his face remained fine.
"I'm surprised they let you in here, the new generation has forgotten us Ryan, we're the things of history, and me, I'm but a ghost of the past."
Out of all of them, Ryan was the only one who couldn't have known what had happened to James, Ryan had left before all of that had happened.
James had snuck into the base, the agents here were good, but nothing compared to James's refined skills, and the bonus that the virus gave him.
"I just wanted to drop by and say hi Ryan, I don't belong here any longer, I don't belong anywhere any longer, you probably wont see me again, but I'll be around...Thanks for the smokes.."
James seemed to phase out of existence, whereas in reality he had just moved so fast that he seemed to disappear, another bonus of the virus he now had, short term boosts of extreme speed.
As soon as he disappeared, several figures came walking down the hall, chatting to themselves vividly, laughing, apparently they had just come from a session in the Wolf's Den.
Posted by: Meldon
« on: February 26, 2010, 06:59:59 pm »
Sabrina ran to catch up with Vlad and Ed, a red spiral notebook in hand. "I met your father, remember? Once. He didn't talk much. Just kinda sighed and walked away. That was the last time anyone saw him. Vlad's father actually SPOKE."
Posted by: TRHeadshot
« on: February 26, 2010, 05:41:21 pm »
"As far as I know.... he's the only remaining link to my father.... I need to speak to this man," Edward states, matter-of-factly.
Posted by: Meldon
« on: February 26, 2010, 01:46:40 pm »
"Wow....all our relatives are either dead, missing, or dissapeared... Imagine the stories he could tell of the old BD! I've got to find a notebook!" Sabrina jumped through the broken window of a nearby dollar store, or what used to be a dollar store, and started to rummage through the debris.
Posted by: R. S. Packman
« on: February 26, 2010, 12:03:27 pm »
Packer awaited his friends response. He couldn't believe it had really been thirty years. He had never actually thought about it, but he had gotten on up there in age. When he had originally left, he was only seventeen.
Those were the days of the AD assault. Now, he was forty-seven, and if there was any way he could go back, he would. Back to his old body, his old friends, most of whom were probably dead by now, and back to the way things had been.
Posted by: TRHeadshot
« on: February 26, 2010, 08:56:15 am »
TR simply stops walking, an inquisitive look upon his face. Finally, his eyes widen.
"No way... that's impossible..." He scratches his chin, and turns to Vlad. "I found a note once... from my dad, listing his old friends, and telling me to seek them out if they were still alive... it led me to Dusk... R. Packer was on the list.... the only one who's status I had been unable to discern... "
He begins to walk again, with more purpose permeating each step than ever before.
I've finally found you...
Posted by: Meldon
« on: February 26, 2010, 07:11:02 am »
((It's at least thirty years since the days of Meldon, Viktor the crazy hobo, and Modem.))
Sabrina vaulted over the railing of a low-hanging fire escape and landed in front of Ed and Vlad. "I just radioed base, they said to come back. Also said something about a Ryan P., if that means something to either of you. Well, let's get goin'."
She started off at a quick pace in the direction of the base.
Posted by: R. S. Packman
« on: February 25, 2010, 12:29:41 pm »
((Well then, I guess I've been gone for more than three months. I'd say more like three-four years at minimum.))
"James, it's good to see you. How have you been?!" He said, standing up and walking over to the man he had grown and trained with. It didn't seem as though he had even aged.
"As a matter of fact, I did remember you." he stated as he reached down into the bag ad brought up a carton of cigarettes. Newport 100's.
"You wouldn't believe the **** I saw out there. Strands of the N4 virus that caused mutations far worse than the behemoth of long arms. I am talking zombies that you would think were simply regular fatties spitting acid at you, six armed beasts larger than behemoths that could crawl on walls like spiders. Even a strand similar to what caused the Behemoth, except the entire body was covered in a type of exoskeleton. But those are stories for another time, what exactly has been going on here?" he asked, and inquisitive look spread on his face as he motioned his old friend over to the dust and mildew covered recliner in his corner.
Posted by: Meldon
« on: February 25, 2010, 08:26:50 am »
"Christ Ed, don't you know how to use your damn headset?"
((OOC: Ry, incase you havn't read up on what's happened so far: The Black Dragons and Fenrir's Fangs were destroyed. The only survivors were Mel, Viktor, Pat, and Modem, although Modem is heavily infected with a new strain of N4. He is essentially, a superzed. Viktor and Pat went into hiding, while Mel went back to Nastyas and with help of Ascending Dawn contacts, was made a citizen and had all record of his involvement with BD erased. Modem was locked away in a deep Secronom lab. Years later, Mel dies of natural cuases and his (grand)daughter Sabrina(I forget exactly how far in the future this is) is left his old war chest in his will. In it she finds his old equipment, and a complete history of the Black Dragons. She finds Pat and Viktor and shows them, and Viktor takes this as a sign to start to rebuild, although this time known as Dusk. Afterwards, Viktor dissapears, but his descendant, Vladimir is recruited. They also find Edward and James. A mysterious figure whom might be Tratpan or VoraX lead the new faction, and the old bartender mysteriously returns.))
Posted by: TRHeadshot
« on: February 25, 2010, 06:41:50 am »
((Lol, sorry Ig, my bad. Lack of inspiration and all that...))
*Crunch, crunch* Vlad, hearing something behind him, about faces with his weapon shouldered.
"Hey! Relax, it's only me, TR," the man whispers, "Lookie what I found!" He hands Vlad a sack full of N2, as well as a couple bottles of Red Wine. "I smell a party tonight!" He smiles jokingly, "Hey, what was that on the radio, about "an old friend" returning?
Could it really be him... TR wonders to himself...
"Never mind, let's just head back to base. This should make up for my little 'disappearing act'.
Posted by: Meldon
« on: February 25, 2010, 02:08:55 am »
"Just as well, the enemy troops are starting to send out search parties for that guy you slaughtered. I guess we'll just report him as MIA in the after-action report."
Sabrina started to fold up the bipod on her rifle, taking out the MP5 she used for close combat while doing so.
"Man, is your girl gonna be pissed if we come back empty-handed... By the way, there's been some CB chatter, something about a new old guy coming back or something."
Posted by: CrazyHobo
« on: February 24, 2010, 07:32:00 pm »
Vlad was sitting outside, covered in dust, still waiting.
He's been waiting for TRHeadshot to post his reply for a month now and now Vlad snapped.
"**** this, he aint coming" - shouted the russian.
"Sabrina, let's get back to base. We'll loot some meds on the way back"
Posted by: Sir Modemkill, Cyborg!
« on: February 24, 2010, 06:51:41 pm »
"Well well...wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it."
James, ever silent, stood leaning against the doorway of Ryans room, his voice and expression were as emotionless and cold as ever, a cigarette dangled from his thin lips, trailing smoke upwards in a pillum.
"Couldn't have sent a postcard or something?"
He said without taking the cigarette from his lips, James had it down to a fine art by now, he could speak normally with a cigarette between his lips without it even moving.
"I hope you at least brought me back a pack of cigarettes or some beer."
If it were anyone else speaking, it would sound like they were scolding Ryan due to their tone of voice, but with James, this was the closest to a "Welcome back my friend!" it would ever get.
James eyes Ryans new garb up and down, his half closed, lazy eyes showed no sign of intrest, but then again, they never did.
Posted by: R. S. Packman
« on: February 24, 2010, 06:00:16 pm »
((I know you said it was paused, but I wanted to post this since I am going to start posting again. If it doesn't work for some reason that I am unaware of then tell me and I will fix it.))
Ryan stood at the front door of the hotel. Much had changed, both to him and the clan, in his time away. He hated to admit it, but in his journeys he had shirked his duties, and he knew this would be frowned upon. He was probably looking at a demotion in rank as well.
"Just **** let me in!" he yelled to the doorman. The voice sounded familiar, but he could not yet place it.
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you in. I don't know of any Ryan's in the Clan except for the two that are up stairs in the bar. I know, I checked to see that they were there."
"I **** out-rank you! Now open the door or I'll have to shoot through it." Ryan yelled at the top of his lungs, chambering the first .45 round into his Thompson, his back turned on the door as he eyed the Long Arms. They seemed to have been trained to the point where they ignored the clan outpost, but they had never seen it take this long for the door to open and they were getting anxious.
Suddenly the door opened and Ryan jumped in, a Desert Eagle pointed in his face.
"Sir, if you really are in the clan, I need to know your room number." the doorman said, never lowering the large handgun.
"Room 22b. Check up on it." Ryan remarked as he made his way up the stairs. The salutes he used to get were gone now, replaced with inquisitive whispering and outlandish looks. Under normal circumstances he would have been mad, but it was to be expected. He had been gone for nearly three months now, since just after the merging into DUSK.
On his way up he had actually been stopped by a group of Engines demanding that as the "Newbie" he would have to pay for his room. When he stated that he already had a room and questioned when that clause had been added to the clan laws, they each took out their weapons. After a few quick swings of his cricket bat and a few more broken bones, he had made his way past.
After a few minutes, he reached his room on the sixth floor. Inserting the key into his door, he turned it in the handle and walked in. A thick layer of dust was visible on everything. From the hidden stash of munitions and money in his closet to the straight razor on his sink, dust was visible.
There is no way I've been gone that long....... Ryan thought to himself, a wave of sadness coming over him. Had his old friends forgotten him as well. Perhaps they thought he was dead. Throwing down his bag he fell onto the bed, his eyes closed.
Many would question his whereabouts, if they even remembered him. He would tell them. For the past three and a half months Ryan had been wandering the country outside of Fairview. It had been a **** to get out of the city with the amount of military blocks still there even after six years, but it had been worth it. He had tried to keep in contact with the clan even in his absence, but one of the only ways he'd had to keep in touch was from the CB, and his had been destroyed by a mutation never before seen in Fairview within a week. His travels had taught him many things. From the joy of finding love and the pain of losing it to how easy it seemed they had things in Fairview, he had learned much.
Now he stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. His old LR8, a gift from his few friends received upon his acceptance into the Zero Agents of the original Fenrirs Fangs, was gone. It had been damaged beyond repair by the acid secreted from a new mutation. In it's place was a thick black metal plate, a Russian made SN-42 body armor. Over it was a brown fur coat. His legs were clad with Blue Jeans and a pair of tan Dickie work boots, and on his head was a brown Cowboy hat. Beneath his clothes he was thin, very thin. He had toned his body to near super human comparison from the simple amount of running he was forced to do because of the new zombie variants he had encountered outside of the city he now loved to call home. His hair was greasy from lack of cleaning and fell to the middle of his back, a rough goatee adorned his tan, thin face.
Surely by now the news of his arrival would have traveled, and he would be getting a visit from his superior. He only hoped that whoever was working the CB today would have heard and sent out the news into the inner city. His comrades were most likely out anyway, and he wanted them to know something. Ryan was back, and he had some **** stories to tell.
Posted by: Meldon
« on: February 22, 2010, 03:33:23 pm »
((**The RP is currently paused until Crazy and Modem are finished Archlord's Quest and Meldon and TR have more time on their hands**))
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