Get the Desktop App for Battle.net Now
- All your games in 1 place
- Log in once
- Automatic game updates
Hey folks. I'd been toying around with this idea in a separate thread for a while now, and I just finished the opening section. This particular story is about a spectre named Gabriel and a banshee pilot named Moirana, who are in love. The story is about their interactions and life difficulties as they try to make their relationship work in the war-torn Koprulu Sector. Feel free to add in any ideas that you want. You can write from the perspective of either character, or add in a new character that would make our two lovers lives 'interesting'. All I ask is that you be serious, and be mature. Remember, this is an action-romance, not a romantic comedy, or anything else that you might have in mind.
Other than that, enjoy.
Gabriel leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting across the bar. No one could see him, of course. Most people couldn’t when he was cloaked. He smiled. Linking up with the Raiders on Typhon and Char had been a good idea, gaining a new cloaking generator that only ran out of energy when he wanted it to, plus a new blade that he had made himself. Yes, that particular job had been quite useful. The Raiders were always looking for additional arms, and he had been quite happy to oblige.
Mentally, he checked the charge level on his psi-pistol. Maxed out, primed, and ready fire. Always good to have a weapon ready to go. Joey Ray didn’t much like people shooting things in his bar, everyone respected that, but a Spectre that didn’t stay ready for trouble was a Spectre that didn’t long for life. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift out over the bar-room. Lightly touching the minds of the occupants, he checked for any unwanted attention directed at him. Nothing, as usual.
He was about to take a light nap when he sensed her. Her mind cut through the mental buzz like a Protoss zealot’s psi-blade through a zergling’s hide. He smiled.
Moirana glanced about the mostly empty bar. The few occupants that were there didn’t pay much attention to her. From the little that she knew about Joey Rays, the people who came here were the kind who preferred a low profile. She even knew that the rebel Raynor had spent some time here. She smiled. She could see why Gabriel had wanted to meet here. Spectres were not the kind of people that wanted attention. They hung in the shadows, avoiding even the lethal ghosts that hunted them. She had heard rumors about the Spectres, about how they had once been ghosts that had served the Dominion, but then somehow gained new, stronger powers, and had gone on psychotic rampages, killing everyone that they saw. The more she had heard, the more glad she had become that the Dominion was protecting people from such a threat.
Eventually, the matter had slipped her mind. She had gone about her work, until one mission when she had found that her squadron was being assigned to a Dominion research outpost that was being sieged by the Zerg. Upon arrival, they had cloaked and started clearing the ground of the xeno’s when a flight of Corruptors arrived, escorting an Overseer. They had been in a heap of trouble, taking heavy fire from the Corruptors in the air, and the Hydralisks on the ground, when she saw the Overseer seem to bubble out, then explode. A message had appeared on her HUD then, saying that she was welcome.
She smiled. She had eventually found out that the person who had sent the message was a ghost, who had been watching the skies, waiting for the Overseer to show up. He had also told her that he had taken out a Hydralisk who had been about to nail her primary engine during one of her evasive maneuvers. They had exchanged messages over several months, and she became charmed by his dry, somewhat twisted sense of humor. Finally, to her shock, he had revealed that he wasn’t actually a ghost working for the Dominion, but a freelance Spectre, hired by the facility as additional security.
Grabbing her Ithorian burlaten from the bartender, she sat down at an empty table near the back, her mind tingling. It was the same feeling that she got when some enemy was pursuing her through the skies. She didn’t know if she was psionic or not, her parents had been deathly afraid that if she was they would never see her again, and that the multiple memory wipes ghosts received as part of their training would erase them from her mind, so they had never gotten her tested. But she had always suspected that she might be, given her unusually high weapon accuracy and impressive training record.
Someone was watching her. She raked her eyes across the bar as she checked the C-16 pistol at her hip. She couldn’t see anyone looking at her, but that didn’t mean anything.
Suddenly, a disembodied voice spoke from across the table.
“Looking for somebody?”
A faint crackling sound filtered through the air. In the chair opposite her, glittering red lights sparked in and out of sight, eventually taking the shape of a person. Clad in a black full-body suit, red lights running down flat tubes along its length, he lounged in the chair, grinning at her. A knife rested in one hand, the tip of the Hydralisk fang handle angling out to her side. She froze, her hand gripping the butt of her gun.
Edited by Thundercrash on 8/17/2011 12:16 PM PDT
Character: Gregor Golding
History: Gregor always had a deep hatred for rebels. As a small child, his family was murdered by a bunch of drunken rebels known as the Umojan Crusaders. They raided his town and pillaged everything, and he hid for days until the confederacy found him. They took him and tested his psionic levels, and had a low sensitivity. He did not have enough psionic potential to make the cut for Ghost operatives, so he was placed in the Marine Corps. After years of faithful service, a nuclear silo was destroyed. The radiation made him an unstable being. They put him in a ghost suit and he now has psionic abilities. After the Confederacy fell he pledged his allegiance to the Dominion. He was assigned to hunting Spectres and now has been tracking one to a remote bar...
History: Dark And Unpleasant. Not much is known but he is a very powerful templar. Wielding powers of both light and dark.
Aldrak sat in a tree and thought. His attempt to forge an alliance with the ghost named Jay proved unsuccessful. But perhaps he could find a different ally. With a wave of his hand 3 'shadow' hims appeared. Spreading your mind across 4 different beings would kill most templar but he was not most templar. 3 hims ran off each with a seperate goal. 'Find help, Find the spectre, kill the spectre.'
Srry if its not that much of a backstory but he is purposefully mysterious.
Edited by iMoDoomerX on 8/17/2011 1:20 PM PDT
(Perhaps I should participate in my first RP... Dunno if my character fits, but what the hell.)
History: The lone survivor of the KL2 crisis, he has been wandering the Koprulu sector for ages, unable to find a true home. Not much is known about him, or his abilities. Only rumors abound about what occurred during the crisis, but nothing more.
Name: Mark, nickname 'Tex'
Affiliation: Ex-Confederate Stealth Operations
History: Parents where killed in the Confederate war agianst the Kel-Morian Combine (Known as the 'Guild Wars' and was picked up by Confederate forces after noticing that he made a KM Hellhound blow up in the air. After being tested with a extremely high Psionic reading he was raised as a covert killing machine specializing in Hand-to-Hand combat, rifles, and handguns. After the Dominion siezed control of the Confederacy he went rogue and attempted to kill Mengsk with a close-friend. His friend was murdered in the attempt along with some Dominion officials and a ghost that had just sworn the oath to the Dominion. Escaped with a Dominion starship and fled to a unamed planet on the outskirts of the K-Sector.
Mark yelled with exhilliration as he sped away on his vulture weaving between trees. He had loved riding on the bikes since he was a kid, especially when he had someone else along. As he stopped in a small clearing where a small smuggling ship was parked he turned around and asked his passenger; "Now wasn't that fun?"
Edited by Ender on 8/17/2011 10:01 PM PDT
(just so you know, I'm going to try to not be comedic like you asked, but I don't know much about romance shows and such, so I might get a little confused in those 'scenes')
Name: Jason Becender
Class: Marine with War Pig Weaponary and Armor
Affiliation: Is in the Dominion military, but his loyalty resides with his comrades.
Personaity: is generally a careful and considerate person, and is protective of his comrades
History: Jason had a rough start in his early childhood. at age 6, he started getting bullied by a group of 8 teenagers whenever he crossed their street as he walked to school. he was generally shy and practically everyone thought of him as a !@#$er that you didn't want in your social group.
At age 8 his parents died during a robbery, and didn't go to school for days. When his uncle finally gave the school the thumbs up that he was coming back. and guess what was the first thing he came across as he walked to school. Now normally he would just ignore them as best he can and try not to make them think they were getting to him. and he almost made it out of earshot without so much as a twitch. but then one of them made a jab at his parents. 10 minutes later, there's an ambulance pulling in 8 broken teenager bodies stammering about being attacked by a relentless monster, and police are taking in an 8 year old for 'extreme violence'. Jaso was then taken into custody, and after a few weeks of not knowing where to put him, they finally decided to put him in an orphanage and be home schooled so as to keep an incident like that from happening again.
6 years later, finally getting fed up with the bull%^-* that he had to go through in the orphanage (don't ask. it'd turn this short history into an essay), he lied about his age and joined the dominion military as a Marine. He quickly made firends with his comrades, and has memories of many a great party with them. after a few months of work, he was able to make a decent living with a basic house, his own personal CMC armor, Guass Rifle, Pistol, and a knife made from a raw metal chunk he found in a workshop for war machines on a forge world. he has noted many things about said knife. for instance, psionics have been unable to read his thoughts while he has the knife nearby him (or anyone else near the knife, for that matter).
Today he is often seen on his homeworld, since their generals have been running out of ideas of what to do with them, and is sometimes mistaken for a fellow civillian by strangers since he is used to both life at home as well on the field. He has a close relation with all his squadmates, and they all have eachothers' phone numbers on speed dial in case of an emergancy. Recently he has saved his comrade Marcus from a freelance spectre and has begun examinging the hydralisk fang knife that he had recovered when he saved said comrade.
I woke up to my usual day at home. I got out of the basement (yes. I sleep in my basement. what's so special about that?), I took out a ration pack out of one of a box, took my canteen out of the refridgerator, and put the snacks in my pockets for later. after breakfast, I turned on the TV and channel before dismantleing my guass rifle to see if it colected dust during the night. luckily it was generally clean, and after only about 30 minutes, I finished cleaning each piece and putting the gun back together. there was nothing intresting going on in the news, so I turned off the tv and went to the bathroom to both relive myself and brush my teeth. when that was done I went to the town gym and practiced on my agility and strength (the former something I have put off for far too long). finally I left the gym at noon and since at this point, my routine was pretty much done, I decided to just have a relaxing day and just stay home, so I started walking home, and prayed to god the spectre hadn't got into my house while I was gone.
Edited by Jake on 8/18/2011 10:14 AM PDT
Gabriel smiled at her. His entrance certainly had had quite an effect on her. His gaze dropped to the pistol underneath her hand.
“You won’t need to use that, unless somebody else decides to crash this party.”
She looked at him uncertainly, but didn’t move her hand. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll keep it.”
Gabriel nodded. “Smart move, for a smart woman. The sector is a dangerous place. You never know who might drop in unexpectedly.”
Miorana nodded. “True. And as I’m sure you know, some unexpected company might already have dropped in before you do.”
Gabriel chuckled. “Also true. So, who are you unexpecting to show up?”
She glanced around the bar. “As far as I know, there isn’t anybody that would want to show up unexpectedly. I am expecting somebody to show, but I don’t know if he’s here yet.”
Gabriel held her gaze as she turned back to him. “Hmm. And if the person you were expecting were right in front of you, would you know it?”
She looked at him for a moment. “If he was, I might. Although, I would need some way of knowing that it was him. People can disguise themselves as all sorts of other people.”
He grinned, enjoying their little word sparring. “True. I’ve known some Umojan spies who were particularly adept at such things. In any case, how is this for identifying.”
“Your name is Moirana Arteno. You are a Banshee pilot in the 13th Squadron, otherwise known as the Howling Storms, Battle Group 9. You have a preternatural awareness of your surroundings, which may indicate psionic potential. You currently hold the record for the fastest completion of pilot training, and lead two of your wing-sisters on an attack run against a swarm of Zerglings on Char, outside the Warfield forward base. Your father is an engineer on Calthrias, where you were born. Your mother was a medic from Umoja, who disappeared under mysterious circumstances when you were 13. Your wing-sisters nicknamed you Iceblade, both for the knife that you always carry strapped to your forearm, which is made from a metal native to the Calthrias mountains, known for maintaining a core temperature of -70 degrees Celsius, and for the fact that you have never lost a game of chicken. All of your wing-sisters are covering for you right now, because if it were discovered that you are here, and not there, you would be executed for desertion, with a slight possibility of a court-martial. Am I close?”
She stared at him with eyes as keen as the blade on her arm for several seconds. Finally she took a drink.
“So, it is you.”
So if it's not a romantic comedy (or an "or anything else you had in mind"), I assume that's the end of the DoomerX clones...
Check out the thread 'to anyone recieving this message...'. You'll find out.
Edited by Thundercrash on 8/17/2011 2:48 PM PDT
Aldrak looked at his lucky amulet. It was a necklace with a Gold encrusted kyhdarian crystal on it. He moved his thumb along the crystal for a moment then he sensed the spectre. He zoned in on one of his shadows near a human establishment. Yes he could sense the psionic energies of... what? The most prominent psionic energy belonged to a female... though it would take a protoss one who was attuned to these energies to sense it. Who is with him? He wondered.
Edited by iMoDoomerX on 8/17/2011 3:23 PM PDT
Name:Jay *Last name Unknown, dosen't seem to remember.*
Codename: The "Mocking"Jay
Psionic Class: Unknown. Claims she was never measured....nor wanted to be
Hair color: Dark Brown
Eye color: Icy Blue
History: Jay was the freak. That is what her mother and stepfather refered to her as when she was young. Sad, isn't it? Being different was what made her a freak. It wasn't anything simple though that made her different, like weird oversized glasses or perhaps an unusual scar on her face. No. She was psionic.
No one knew at first, although people often had a hard time explaining the things she would do. Like taking a handful of rocks in her hand and make them fly a few feet from them, or her occasional episodes where she would be sitting alone, staring at somthing distant, her eyes glowing a soft blue color.
Once her mother and stepfather realized she was psionic, they sent her away to the nearest Ghost academy. They took her in, and she was taught much of the basics by the time she was 18.
One day, at the academy, one of Jay's least favorite instructors was really getting on her nerves, swearing at her and rudely insulting her aim as she practiced at the shooting range. Aparently, she was half a milimeter off according to him. She got a bit frustraited, then....pooof. The intstructer had vanished, gone without a trace. The scientists on campus were baffled, unsure of how it was possible. They kicked her out soon after.
After realizing what a douchebag Emporer Menske is and, in adding fuel to the fire, how much !@#$ she delt with at the academy, she joined Raynor's Raiders in their campaign to overthrow the Dominion. She has completed her training from the handful of ghost operatives of Raynor had gathered, only a few of them actually willing to, after hearing of her inccident at the Academy.
Recently in the last thread (For those of you who are new), Jay had contacted Gabriel, looking for advice on his lovelife. Sadly, after getting his advice from her and other various people, he had attempted to kill them all. In the process, Gabriel had killed Jay's boyfriend Shadow. Jay now seeks revenge and has decided to target his love Moirana.
*Quote* "I'm taking a love for a love."
Last post for the night
Moirana glanced across at Gabriel, her mind racing. He had clearly done some looking up on her. She couldn’t blame him, for someone in his line of work, lack of information could be fatal.
“If it were discovered that I was gone, I would definitely be court-martialed, not possibly. Dominion procedure.”
His eyebrow arched slightly. “Well, the Dominion is famous for doing things not according to procedure. ShadowBlade was one of them, wiping out entire towns simply because a defector was hiding out there was another.”
She stared at him. “I don’t believe you.” It sounded hollow even to her ears.
A short laugh burst from Gabriel. “Yes you do. You know it better than most.”
Images flashed through Moirana’s mind. Yes, she did know. The original purpose of the Banshee’s was to put down rebellions. She had done several missions like that. In recent times, though, she had started to question the motives behind such missions.
“I suppose. But it doesn’t mean that the Dominion is all bad.”
A gentle smile crossed Gabriel’s face. “Not always, no. It serves its purpose.”
Moirana frowned. “And what might that be?”
He shrugged. “The same as every other organization. It serves as a standard, a rallying point for the masses. The Umojan Protectorate does the same thing for its people, as does the Kel-Morian Combine. Even Raynor’s Raiders serves such a purpose.”
Moirana glanced around the bar, her mind tingling again. Someone else was watching her.
“And for people like you? What do you rally behind?”
His eyes narrowed, his gaze directed over her shoulder.
“We do what we must to survive.”
Suddenly, he stood up and pulled an odd looking pistol from its holster. A high pitched whine issued from it, and he pulled the trigger. A bright blue bolt exploded from the barrel, shooting over her head. She whipped around, yanking her own gun out, just in time to see a shadowy figure blow apart, vanishing into thin air. She glanced back at Gabriel, questions rising to her lips.
A grim expression covered his face. “I think it’s time we left. Now.”
Edited by Thundercrash on 8/18/2011 3:17 PM PDT
Damn man, you know what your talking about. Go Guild Wars and things against the Dominion!
Edited by Ender on 8/17/2011 10:02 PM PDT
Aldrak winced in pain as the bullet passed through 'him'. Back at his tree he dispersed his other shadows, made sure his psi- blade was charged and jumped down. Right before heading out he put his lucky amulet in a carved hole in the tree. He tried to remember where he had lsat seen the spectre and go from there.
As they hurried out the door, Moirana glanced over at Gabriel.
“What was that?”
Staring straight ahead, he easily matched her stride. “A shadow hallucination. Looks like that Dark Templar I pissed off has decided to make his move.”
“You pissed off a Dark Templar! What’d you do, try to kill it?”
“No. Lets just say that when you’re in the business of killing people, you tend to make enemies. You have a way off this rock?”
Turning her gaze back towards the Mohican ATV that she had arrived in, she yanked the remote activator from a pocket on her flight suit. “Yeah, of course.”
“Good. I suggest you head back to your battle group. You might be safer there.”
“Yeah, well, there aren’t many places you can hide from a Dark Templar.”
He split off from her. As she watched him go, a Vulture hoverbike decloaked nearby. He leaped into, and as the engine roared into activity, he heeled it around at shot away.
She climbed into the borrowed Mohican, revved the engine, and took off towards the Mar Sara Starport. As the desert flashed past in a brown blur, she pondered the events that had preceded. What did you have to do to piss off a Dark Templar? Who did he kill?
Reaching the Starport, she hurried down an access hall to where her ship was docked, when suddenly most of the lights went out. Her mind buzzed as she felt somebody approaching. She reached for her holstered gun when a cold, echoing voice spoke in her mind, igniting a freezing fear.
Greetings, Moirana Arteno. Her last sight before her mind collapsed into unconsciousness was that of a tall Protoss warrior.
Edited by Thundercrash on 8/18/2011 3:17 PM PDT
*Jay looked at Mark, and a small smile crept along her face*
"Okay, that was kinda fun (Her smile vanishes, a memory making its way through...she pushes it to the back of her mind)...but, *looks at the ship* Can i hitch a ride with you? If that dumbass blasted my ship skyhigh, i don't really have much choice...."
*She carefullly steps out of the Vulture Bike*
Edited by Mockingjay on 8/18/2011 7:05 AM PDT
Threats of violence. We take these seriously and will alert the proper authorities.
Posts containing personal information about other players. This includes physical addresses, e-mail addresses, phone numbers, and inappropriate photos and/or videos.
Harassing or discriminatory language. This will not be tolerated.