Well... The Worlds A Bit Of A Mess? (Roleplay thread)

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    OOC: Sign up -> http://warriorcatsrpg.com/inde…4.msg40889414#msg40889414
    IC: Zia sat contently on a scorched trees branch. The forest in which she momentarily refuged in had mostly been burnt to ashes, anything that survived was destined blown apart by tanks and bombs. Not that it considered the young assassin in anyway shape or form. Well... No it did a bit. She loved the outdoors and all it had to offer but she knew she couldn't exactly change to being an eco-warrior in the mist of battle. She sneered at the thought. Oh, her imagination... Something that had gotten her into much trouble in her shortened childhood. If it could even be called a childhood. Even if she considered the years running up to her being a professional assassin a childhood it wouldn't really be. She had been experimented and trained since birth to be nothing but a killing machine. How she envied normal kids... Some days she dreamed of being normal, meeting her family but alas that was extremely unlikely.

    Maxwell sat upward, using his large tail as a sort of base to 'stand' on. Maxwell was watching a man who was strapped by chains to a wall. He really didn't want to torture anyone, but he was forced to do this... The man was badly beaten, whipped, and seemed to have almost lost a foot. Two men from behind nudged Maxwell forward with the hilt of their swords. Maxwell glanced at the men, forced to move forward. Maxwell stared at the silent man who wouldn't speak a word... He slowly began to open his mouth, revealing a sharp pair of fangs.

    Zia was snapped out of her day dream by distant yelling, her super sensitive ears easily picked up... The voices were familiar to her. They were troops from her side. She would have to keep moving. She had to scan out the area ahead and sabotage anything that may cause a problem. The girl had already fallen quite a bit behind her schedule. Not that she was worried or anything of the sort. Jumping down from the trees she grinned. The breeze shoving the scent of her enemies, she could just make out on the horizon, straight into her face.

    Maxwell sighed, then leaned upward, biting the man by the neck. He removed his head a second later, glancing down. The man quickly whipped his head up, screaming with agonizing pain. Maxwell knew what his venom could do, and he wasn't very proud of it... But he had to learn to cope with himself...

    Zia licked her mouth. A habit she had that was impossible to stop. Canines often licked their maws to reassure their kin or just in general when they were calmed. Making sure her eye patch was fitted correctly over her left eye she took of running, leaping and bounding over anything in her path. Soon she skidded to a halt, just in time as she had nearly tumbled over the edge of a cliff. Watching a few loose rocks fall from the edge of her new vantage point she quickly made a mental note of the area. Knowing where and what things where was vital. What wasn't obvious with her vast knowledge she could easily guess so soon she had pretty good outlook on the area.

    Lyra was on a roof of a house, Watching two Britan guards walking by the house. Her mission was to assassinate someone very important for he country Russia, But sometimes she judge pity's herself for killing people.

    Viktor, who preferred to go by his code name, Feral, watched the white haired girl from the burn wasteland that had once been a forest. He frowned as he watched her nearly stumble off a cliff, which would have made his job much easier. She was just a girl, not even fifteen years old. He'd been told about her...Everything that they could find on this assassin they had told him. Every weapon she was known to carry, what techniques she typically used, even the name she went by. "Zia..." Feral murmured, the words so soft it seemed as if they hadn't left his lips. Slowly the bounty hunter slid his short swords out of their sheaths on either hip and held them at the ready, watching the girl once more.

    Daggers protrude from the guards corpses as Xero walks past them and produces a syringe which carried an antivenom.
    "Out of the way Maxwell, I'm ending his suffering, and don't ask how I know your name, I just do."

    {I spent so much time on a 1000+ post, only to have it goofed... I suppose I'll save it until later. :'( }


    The rattling had been going on for days now, and it was starting to get really annoying.
    Jakov frowned as he turned his head upwards, aware of the pounding and screaming going on above him.
    It must be the snake kid again... he thought, irritated, as he made his way cautiously through the tunnels. The one that tortures people or whatever.
    It was odd that he regarded death so lightly these days-- not long ago, he had been repulsed by it, disgusted that those who slaughtered others to keep from being killed themselves.
    It was ironic that he was one of them now.

    The guards fell to the ground, easily vanquished. Maxwell moved to the right a bit, then nodded with a sigh of relief. Truthfully, he didn't care how he knew his name. Things were scarier than that... "O-Okay, please do it." Maxwell said with a small grin.


    Ooc: Wouldn't you need Maxwell's venom to create the anti venom?

    OOC: Technically all the predatorial unnaturals can eat raw meat? I mean, with the acid in their digestive tracts and whatnot...
    IC: A chittering sound echoed through the tunnels to his slight right as he carelessly drew a knife and threw it in the general direction. There was a sickening thud, and it abruptly stopped.
    Making his way carefully toward the source of the noise, he knelt, drawing the blade from the corpse as it made a horrible sucking noise. He breathed in and out, steadying himself, before picking up what appeared to be a sewer rat, cleaning the knife on its matted fur before tying the body with the rest of his fallen kin.
    Rat. It disgusted him, and yet he had to eat it, usually raw, for almost his entire life.

    Jakov narrowed his eyes in the darkness, picking up a slight disturbance in the water that covered the sewer floors. Ripples outward, displaced by careful weight.
    Obviously, someone was following him.
    Unfortunately, he had no idea who, or where from.
    Resuming a convincing I have no idea that someone is probably trying to kill me pace, he was dead aware of the pounding of his heart, painfully rebounding in his ribcage. He had no plans to die today.

    Jakov quickly moved to the left, hoping to lose Lyra in the sewer's perplexing corridors. He wasn't sure if Lyra was familiar with the layout, but he was relying on her possible ignorance of it.
    He hated relying on something he couldn't control.