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Armageddon: Afterworld

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[i]Long she rusted, a memorial to a forgotten war and a forgotten age. The superstructure had been removed long before and only her rusted hull remained. Only one turret remained intact. The old ship sat completely underwater except for a few small areas on the ship which just barely poked out of the water. The battleship Arizona slept. Her hull was completely mangled by the explosion which had destroyed her in 1941 and time had steadily eroded what remained. She had been forgotten and almost abandoned. The white platform which had been erected above her as part of the memorial to the great ship echoed with only the sporadic sounds of human feet. Most people in the latter part of the Twenty-First Century just seemed to want to forget about the past. Maybe that is what doomed them. Stories were told that the ship was haunted and it was true that many had died within her that fateful day so very long ago. The last body had been laid to rest almost a hundred years previously. One day, storm clouds appeared and witch fire came from the sky. The Rifts had come and the world would never be the same. Lightning hit the rusted hulk over and over. The hull was wrapped in blue fire crackling with blinding intensity.

Something had woken up.

After over a century and a half, the hull wrenched itself from the deep mud. The white platform above the old ship shattered and sunk to the bottom. As the rusted hull slowly pulled itself to the surface, water poured from hundreds of cracks. A loud creaking could be heard as the hull straightened out and the hull became whole for the first time in over a century and a half. Cracks became whole and years of rust seemed to simply fade. Grey paint spread over the ship. Black smoke exhaust came from where once the battleship's funnel sat. The acrid smoke wrapped itself around the deck of the old battleship like a lover. The smoke seemed to take a life of its own and appeared to form familiar cylindrical shapes where the ship's turrets had sat before the Arizona's death. The dark smoke seemed to form the superstructure and stack of the old battleship. If anybody had been observing, they might have remarked at the illusion of the smoke. The smoke slowly darkened until it appears to be solid steel again. The grey paint of the vessel them spread to match it to the rest of the warship. The Arizona was whole again and shone as bright as she had when first launched, two centuries prior.

A ghost like figure appeared on the bridge of the old battleship. He was dressed in the uniform of a naval Captain from the time which the old battleship had been lost. The Captain had come back to take command. A second figure appeared next to the captain. This ghost figure was dressed in the uniform of a rear admiral. He paused on the deck as if he was looking for something he dropped. More and more shadowy figures appeared. The music from a band could be heard coming from inside of the ship. Two ghost crew member mopped the deck while the bosun yelled at them. Vibration could be felt from deep within the hull. On the mast, a flag with thirteen stripes in red and white with a dark blue rectangle with forty eight stars. The USS Arizona was alive once again and plying the seas.


For decades, they have lain here, slowly rotting away....They come to this place in the hot dry desert, still shiny and straight of line, and gleaming with purpose, and are placed in straight regimental lines as if any minute they will be called upon to take flight again....but the call to action never comes. No ground crew comes to service them, no flight crews come to board them. Only the passing of time and a slow degeneration marks their final days. Paint scratches in the dusty winds, fades, pales, and wears away. Canopy glass and perspex frosts, spiders, and purples with sun and wind. Oil drips free, thick, dirty, and contaminated with age. Once straight angles soften and curve with the burden of gravity... Rubber becomes brittle and bursts with age. Proud insignia fade and rub away to barely legible blurs. Debris accumulates between the rows of sharp shapes, more often than not fallen from the aircraft themselves, or pushed in from less fortunate neighbors that have finally been cut apart for scrap. Aside from the occasional visit of the junk men, they are alone and forgotten in this place, their final resting place...

Then, after decades, the world explodes...

It is hardly felt, at first, in this all-but-forgotten, lonely place....Over several days and nights, the horizon seems to glow with lurid colors...the sky becomes overcast and alternately becomes blacker than midnight, or is streaked with lines of burning unearthly hue...White ash, like snow, falls suddenly, in bursts, threatening to bury the landscape, but is then blown away by sudden winds, bordering on hurricane velocity....In the distant hills, monstrous shapes can be seen, but there is no sign if they are real or shadows....

Then, one night, it happens....

In a place that life has deserted, something stirs. Many somethings stir. With a symphony of creaking and groaning, ancient metal strains and fights loose of its earthly entanglement. Rust falls in a red shower like dried blood from flowing metal. With hissing and popping, broken wing spars and frames straighten out, rejoin, and knit together. Ancient canopy tracks screech as they fight rust and embedded grime to slide shut. Piles of brittle rubber scraps writhe like worms, flow like water, and reform into tires, gaskets, and weather stripping, and then crawling back into their proper place on the ancient planes. Old dials and instruments quake in their housings, lighting up with eldritch light or spinning like tops, compasses gone mad. Old position lights flicker to incandescent life, adding red and yellow lighting to the scene.

A sputter and a series of gunshot bangs punctuate the air as one of the old piston engines cranks to unearthly life. Screeching at first as the ancient gears scrape corrosion and dried lubricant away in clouds of greasy smoke, the propellers turn painfully slowly, but accelerating and gradually working up into a blur. With precedent set, the process is repeated on the other intact engines, then on the other reforming shapes in the gloom. A throatier roar accompanies the reawakening of ancient jet engines, adding their voices to the chorus.

Like a clutch of monstrous metal hatchlings trying their wings for the first time, the massive shapes move cautiously, but with growing self-assurance towards open ground from their debris-strewn metal nest. An old rusted chainlink fence offers no obstacle, pushed aside by the behemoths, or perhaps pulled aside by the equally old forklift that stutters to life. Moving out into the open desert and the ribbon of cracked pavement that was the runway, the aircraft seem to instinctively fall out into an orderly flight line, then, with almost practiced precision, snap to a semblance of attention. One of their number smartly rolls out of the formation and takes point position on the runway stretching into the distance. Engines rev to maximum, the first moves forward, moving faster with every passing moment, streaking across the desert, straining for the sky...

Then, impossibly, it happens...Straining and clawing, the vast metal shape lifts into the air, fighting for every inch of lift....almost faltering on the edge of success...then, suddenly, like a man sliding back into a familiar, comfortable suit of clothes, the aircraft FLIES......Steadily, gaining altitude, without tremor, pause, or hesitation....Landing gear smoothly roll up into their bays, flaps adjust for wind and course.

One by one, behind it, the remaining aircraft roll into position, taking their places for takeoff....Within minutes, the first ascension is repeated, until all are airborne. A brief orbit of their ancient resting place, and the resurrected warbirds wheel about and disappear into the blue-crossed night sky....


The tip of the barrel of an ancient tank stuck in the deep swamp poked from the muck and grime. Many areas of Russia are covered with vast swamps. Many tanks had been lost in the vast lands of the Soviet controlled territories. Some lost during wars, others used as targets, while yet others were simply left to rust away. Likely it had sunk into the mud slowly but somehow the barrel had broken the surface of the swamp.

No one knew it was there and even if they had, it is likely that nobody would have cared. The New Soviet government payed little attention to the relics of the past. Nobody had likely seen the ancient tank since it had sunk into the mud.

The sky darkened and lightning flashed across the sky. Not a thunderstorm but something more. Intense beyond anything ever seen. Grey, blue, and red lit up the sky. The Apocalypse had come with magic returning to the world.

Several multicolored lightning bolts appeared to hit the ground around the old wreck. At first it seemed to be an illusion but it appeared as if the barrel was getting longer. Something had awoken. Then it became obvious that the barrel was slowly rising from the earth with mud dripping from the barrel. The tank was pulling itself free after eons of being buried and forgotten.

The sound of metal grinding could be heard under the ground. The gunning of a powerful diesel suddenly rocked the earth. The black mud began to split apart as the top of a tank emerged. Rust had taken anything which might have identified the tank but it was ancient, perhaps dating from the Great Patriotic War. Still, it was in surprisingly good shape. Great clouds of black smoke rose from the tank and the noises of a poorly maintained engine sounded as it rolled off.


Magic has returned to the world with the coming of the Rifts in the early part of the 22nd century, along with many relics of the past coming to life and roaring away of their own power. Not all vehicles come to life in this manner, though far more than a few have. These ghost vehicles vary in alignment, some are heroic and good while some are inexplicably evil. Vampires, were-wolves, fey folk, and all manner of supernatural creatures have come forth into the world since the apocalypse. Horrific monsters lurk within the forests, ruins, and oceans while humanity struggles to try to rebuild itself. Aliens have descended upon the planet, and the legendary Atlantis has risen from its watery grave.

Earth has changed with the coming of the Rifts. Millions, if not billions perished in the apocalypse. Ley lines, shimmering, glittering energy in all the colors of the rainbow, traverse the planet like a net, churning forth the mystical energies of legend and folklore. Some say these ley lines were always there, though none have any explanation as to why they suddenly became visible with the end of the world. All coastal regions of the world were flooded as the oceans rose, and massive earthquakes destroyed many of the world's largest cities, and so they have remained as massive piles of rubble. New York has obtained several guardians. Perhaps, most famously, is the USS museum ship Intrepid having pulled itself free of its moorings in New York Harbor and now guards the ruined city in an eternal vigil. Its host of museum aircraft have also taken to the skies to aid in this endeavor. But, the Intrepid is not alone in its mission. Below the waters of the harbor lies its museum companion, the USS Growler submarine. If the Intrepid or its fleet of ghostly planes are not enough to sink or chase off interlopers, the Growler is all the more reason to flee, if it does not first destroy intruders unlucky enough to stray into the harbor. Lady Liberty herself is also said to rise from the waters outside the harbor and welcome newcomers, while burning away with her torch those unworthy to reach the once proud nation of the United States. Unlike Lady Liberty, however, the Intrepid and the Growler seem irrevocably evil in nature. What they are guarding remains a mystery, as like much of the world New York lies in ruins, the massive skyscrapers having either collapsed or stand haphazardly, as if they will soon join the massive piles of debris.

Many cities have obtained such ghostly guardians, but the dangers of the world extend far beyond the ocean's grasp. The Yugoloth and the Slepid war with the world, their alien heritage being one of destruction and death upon all others.

This is where you come in, my brave adventurers. Some are powerful magic users, while others are fierce warriors without peer. Guns, swords, might and magic. All are at your disposal to survive in the changed world. Humans have congregated all over the world into vast settlements, though there are far fewer humans still than there once was. Unfortunately, not all races can live in peace, and some live only to cause wonton destruction or enslave others. Earth is as turbulent if not more so than it was in the 21st century. You can be a number of creatures, feel free to make your own race if you so wish, but no matter your race the enemies of your neibour are yours as well.

Here is the sign up sheet, though it will differ slightly depending on what kind of character you create. You are also more than welcome to make multiple characters.

Sex: (if you decide to play as a haunted vehicle, please state if you are of feminine or masculine persuasion.)
Race: (what is your species?)
Species Characteristics: (If creating one, what does your species look like? What heights and weights to they generally reach? What kinds of innate abilities does your species have? Skin color? Hair color?)
Vehicle Type: (If you are not a race but come kind of craft, state your make and model here)
Appearance: (what do you look like? If you're a vehicle, then what condition are you in? Pictures or a descriptive paragraph are acceptable)
Crew: (how many people can you fit comfortably and when cramped?)
Speed: (please state your on road top speed and off road top speed. Keep in mind not all cars were designed for off road)
Cargo Capacity:(how much carrying capacity do you have?)
(naturally, if you are a race, some of the above need not be in your sign-up.)
Personality: (self-explanitory)
Powers/Abilities/Skills: (Most ghost vehicles have the ability to cast magical effects, and everyone has an array of skills of some sort)
History: (What is known of your past? Why do you do what you do?)

Here is my own to set the example:

Name: Christopher Reynolds
Age: 26
Sex: male
Race: Human
Appearance: Christopher is 5'9" and weighs 160 lbs. He has red hair, hazel eyes, and is usually seen wearing a black trench coat, tank top, and goggles with a pair of baggy cloth pants with many pockets. On his hands are a pair of black leather gloves.
Personality: Bubbly, perky, cheerful and rather the dashing young hero. He's usually the first to fire a shot if attacked, and has no qualms about killing darker entities. He's obsessed with hunting down those who destroyed his home.
Powers/abilities/skills: Chris is a talented magician, and one of the more powerful in the world. His spell casting capability dwarfs most others. However, he's also a skilled gunner and very acrobatic.
History: When he was a young child, he was discovered to have the capability to become a powerful mage, and so he was sent off to learn the ways of magic and how to control his powers. While he was at the school, his home city was attacked by an unknown force, reducing it to nothing but rubble and dead bodies. Since leaving the school, he has traveled the world over, killing, destroying, and making sure that there is no where to hide from him if one is evil and inclined to acts of bloodshed.

A secondary character:

Name: Grave Justice

Age: Model Year 1967

Gender: Seems to be of a female mindset and 'voice'

Classification: Ghost Car


Grave Justice is a 1967 Plymouth Fury police vehicle with a black and white paint scheme that by all appearances seems to have fared unnaturally well against the effects of time, though is not pristine by any means. The paint and police symbols on the sides of the car are badly faded and have been scratched up something fierce, along with many dents all over the vehicle. The aged license plates on the vehicle are dented so badly and are so devoid of paint they are completely unreadable. The name of the town or city which the police car originally served is mostly illegible but the word "NEW" can be barely read on the driver's side door. The engine of the automobile still has a powerful roar, like it's been well maintained and modified far beyond a stock engine. While the tires show some definite wear, they seem to be in fairly decent condition. The headlights are intact but there is some cracking in the light bars. Still, they seem to work fine when flashing and the siren can still be heard clearly. Inside the car, the vinyl seats have a few rips and the dividing plexiglass has become opaque as well as having many deep scratches. The equipment inside is minimal with a simple radio being the only communication equipment. There is a shotgun rack beside the driver's seat. In the trunk is a full compliment of roadside supplies, and food stuffs have been known to appear in the trunk as well. On the extremely rare occasion, a stunningly beautiful woman with her black hair pulled into a bun and wearing a police uniform can be seen sitting in the car.

[b]Speed:[/b] Top speed on roads of 180 mph (290 kph) with a normal cruise speed of 60 mph (96.6 kph.) The car is not really designed for off road travel, top speed is 40 mph (64 kph)

[u]Cargo Capacity:[/u] Trunk is magically larger, around 20 cubic feet (0.6 cubic meters) of volume. In addition to the trunk, the vehicle has additional storage ability in the rear passenger seats and side passenger seat.

Personality: Some ghost cars prefer to have humans behind the wheel while others seem to be completely independent. Grave Justice appears to be somewhere between the two extremes. The car seems to be capable of following its own course but will take on passengers from time to time. The car is a cross between being unprincipled and scrupulous, sometimes being willing to bend the letter of the law to serve the spirit of the law. There are several stories about lost kids being picked up by the police car and taken safely home. They seem to always have a feeling of having been lectured about what they did but otherwise unharmed. It will even join the cause of its passengers at times. There are stories about the car joining forces with sheriffs and fellow law enforcement, along with people who actively seek justice for some heinous crime. Still, the car seems to have never taken any permanent partners. When it finishes a job, it just seems to leave to cruise the highways and cities far beyond the horizon. There are some really interesting tales about the police vehicle managing to trick criminals into getting into the back and them transporting them to the nearest jail. Like the lost kids, the criminals were severely chastised by the car while riding to the jail. Unless someone murders another or is attempting to kill someone, the car has a reluctance to kill another itself. In those cases, the car seems willing to kill with no hesitation, acting as judge, jury, and executioner. The car also seems to be able to feel creatures of supernatural evil and shows them no mercy either, relentless hunting them down once it has caught wind of them. Any passengers will be asked to leave the car for their own protection. Grave Justice appears to be utterly fearless. It is one of the few "ghost" cars willing to chase after the ghost hearse "Black Death" and there appears to be a strong hatred between them. Grave Justice appears to have something of a sense of humor as well.

Weapons/Abilities: While the police car appears to carry a lot of wear from over the years, it is extremely tough and can take the damage of multiple missile hits, something it could never have done when it first rolled off the assembly line. It was once attacked by a Coalition squad and had exactly that happen to it. Much of the body was destroyed in the skirmish but the car was able to escape. When it was next seen again, it appeared like it had prior to having been devastated by the attack although definitely had not restored itself to perfect condition. Various magical powers have been attributed to the automobile including the ability to fire lightning from the light bar and streams of fire from the grill and tail pipe. Other powers appear to be able to throw shock waves outwards. A trick to get criminals into the back area is to inflict horribly intense sensations of wracking pain on them and then bump them into the back of the ancient squad car. The car also seems to be able to create magic nets to immobilize criminals Other abilities have been attributed to the car including the car having used telekinesis to pull the weapons from the hands of the criminals who found themselves in the back seat. It is also known that the automobile has a limited ability to communicate telepathically with individuals inside the car but not outside. A woman's voice has also been heard coming from the radio. Usually, the car says very little but likes to chastise those who do wrong. The person will rarely remember the exact words after being lectured but will remember the basic theme and bits and pieces. When the car had to escape from the Coalition, it appeared to just vanish into thin air. The vehicle, while once powered by an internal combustion engine, now has an inexhaustible propulsion force stemming from the supernatural meaning it no longer has need of fuel, though can be heard roaring happily down the highways. Passengers of the automobile find their wounds heal extraordinarily fast. The vehicle also displays the ability to spawn foodstuffs in the trunk, perhaps most ironically spawning Bavarian creme filled donuts much of the time along with other foods. The car has also displayed the abilities to become completely invisible (along with its passengers) and achieve a perfectly silent running state, even when running full out.The police car may have other abilities which no-one has yet witnessed. It is suspected that the car can fly for short distances.

History: No one knows where the vintage squad car came from, though it has been seen all across the highways and cities of the United States. The word 'New' on the driver's side door has led people to speculate that the car originally served New York City, but no one really knows for sure. The ongoing battle between Grave Justice and the black car identified as a rusted out 1959 Cadillac hearse "Black Death" has gone on for countless years, the two having been seen trading paint, flinging fire and lightning at one another, and trying to run the other off the road while racing along at breakneck speeds. The police car has managed to chase down and almost destroy the hearse on several occasions but the malign hearse has managed to escape every time. Another ghost car, a show stopping cherry red 1978 Corvette Stingray convertible and known as the Red Racer, seem to have developed a rather friendly rivalry with the police car, the two having been seen in tandem trying to destroy Black Death or racing one another down remote stretches of highway. Grave Justice's history with the Coalition is one of incredible violence, as the Coalition always tries to destroy the car on sight. Spanning back decades, the scuffles have nearly always left the Coalition with far fewer members, and more than a few times Grave Justice has been dealt devastating blows. Unfortunately for the Coalition, the car always returns to thwart their illegal activities once more and has regenerated all damage done to it. What else is known is that the automobile also will not accept the addition of modern components. Said components will fail within a few days and will not work at all until removed from the vehicle altogether. Over time, far too many car washes have seen the vehicle coming in, splattered with a dried dark reddish-brown substance on the bumpers and various other areas of the car. Money was transfered, though any camera data from that night was hopelessly scrambled, and no one could remember who exactly was driving it, other than a police officer. Edited by Inuyasha Fandom
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Name: Vector Alpha

Age: A-10C 2014

Sex: Female persuasion

Race: Aircraft

Vehicle Type: Fairchild Republic A-10C Thunderbolt II ((Warthog))

Appearence: The entire aircraft main color is pitch black with a secondary color of red. Giving the aircraft a dark redish color thanks to the black paint. Along the aircraft's bottom is completely scratched up while the paint job on it's top is worn from years of sitting in a forgotten desert. When it was being kept in a hanger. The paint job was more prestined and fine detailed pinstripping dawned his nose section while the rest of the craft was detailed in a panther-like scheme. Now it's just the paint color remains as the sand it was resting in on a long abandoned flat stretch of desert worn down to almost no paint scheme. Only on it's rudders could the old 50 starred red, white, and blue flag paint job and barely visable jumble of letters and numbers remain. The jumble of letter s and numbers read: CAS-A-10C 231-12451

Crew: One

Speed: Top speed of 518mph with a maximum speed of 439mph. Cruise speed is 340mph with a stall speed of 138mph.

Cargo Capacity: When it was just a simple human controlled plane. It's natural capacity at maximum was 50,000 pounds. Since it was magically enhanced it's capacity was increased to 200,000 pounds.

Personality: Dark, secretive, and observant. It stays quiet and only talks to those who peeked it's intrest. Otherwise it's either ignored or destroyed.

Weapons: 30mm GAU-8/Avenger Gatling Cannon. Four rocket pods containing 13 120mm anti-tank rockets, Two Sidewinders for AA use, Six Mavericks for AS use, two cluster bomb pods, four incendiary bombs, four laser guided bombs, two dumb bombs (Non guided bombs), One flare/decoy and chaff dispenser pod, one ECM (Electronic Counter-Measures) pod, and two 600 gallon drop tanks.

Abilities: This haunted craft can hover in air for a short time. Giving it greater time to demolish anything it comes across. It also regenerates ammunition over time (As not to over power anyone). With it's dark paint scheme it will blend in easily with the night or dark surroundings.

History: Vector Alpha was a military aircraft opertating during the continued war against terrorism. It's crew and pilot gave the plane it's unique paint scheme as they operated near or during night time. The air base was small and only housed several other A-10C's. The airstrip was a flatten length of the desert and most of the ammunition, storage, and crew quaters was dugged into a sand dune. The planes sat outside but in thin metal hangers constructed on the spot with slightly concreted floors that where partially burried into the sand dune. It's pilot was a young but talented male by the call sign Dash. Dash and the ground crew cared for this plane. Gave it's name as Vector Alpha the night stalker and took her out on many successful missions.

But the time wasn't with their little air base as the base was attacked during the mid-morning hours. All other A-10C's where destroyed by motar fire and most of the ground crews and pilots where engaged in a heavy ground battle. The doors to her hanger where blown open by C4 but the person who opened it was shot a few seconds after he detonated the explosive. She watched as the ground crew that took care of her brothers and sisters die to buy time for her ground crew to fuel her up, load her out, and get her into the air. The base crew managed to push the attacking forces back off the runway as her pilot climbed into her cockpit. A shot range out as her pilot, Dash, grabbed his stomach from a sniper shot. Though bleeding internally badly. Dash still took his place inside her and taxied her out. Mortars, RPGs, bullets flew around her as the plane took off into the skies. The base all but lost to the attacking forces. The entire crew for her home was killed. None taking alive as it seems as she flew for a few hours.

Desert for as far as the eye could see. Endless dunes filled the optics systems as Dash slowly fades from life. One of the two drop tanks went empty as the plane slowly lost altitude. Dash leaning on the control stick is pushing her slowly down towards the dunes of sand. Her twin engines whirred down as a flat area appeared after a dune that was surely the end of them. In just a matter of seconds. She skids across the sand till she slid across it. No landing gear was lowered. Dash climbed out of the cockpit. His flight suit from his stomach down completely soaked in blood. Stained dark red her seat is from where Dash once sat. Blood hand prints on the flight and throttle stick.

Dash made it only twenty steps before his time came to die. His skeleton long burried in the sand infront of the plane he loved to fly so much. There she layed for eons. Sand slowly eroding the paint job. Slowly eroding into a time forgotten and burried. Though the dry air and little to no rain keeps her from rotting. The slow erosion from the sand etches into the metal of her body. Till one day that Armagedon came. The strange rifts in the sky at the darkest time of night that seemed to reach down and bring this once proud aircraft out of it's eternal grave. Giving it a life and a mind of it's own. Remembering every day of it's past existence with humans. The pain of watching it's once beloved ground crew and pilot die would give this haunted aircraft a dark arura.

It flies the low skies to find a new purpose. Coming across human settlements and attacking those who would hurt the ones who couldn't fight back. Longing for days long gone. Vector Alpha searches for it's reason of life among the other vehicles that the rifts brought back to life from the dead.

((As per request from Inyu. I will now do a secondary character.))

Name: Liz

Age: 19

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Appearence: Heighth: 6'11" Weight: 162lbs Hair color: Had magically changed to dark red with gold highlights (Original hair color is black). Hair length: Naturally down to her hips. Eye Color: Right eye was replaced at young age by a passing magician so it's red. Left eye is her natural color of green. Bust size: 34CC. Body Type: Athletic. Identifiable markings: Scare leading from above the right eye to below the right eye, large tattoo of the United State's Marine Corps on the back, Piercings of the breasts, naval, and tongue, and dogtags. Skin Tone: Dark tan. Skin Type: Smooth but rough.

Personality: Violent, rude, anti-social. Shoots first asks questions later.

Skills: Expert marksman and skilled hand to hand specialist. Good with computers and machines.

History: Liz has no magical abilities what so ever. Even the simplest spell is not in her power. Since 13 she's been training in the ways of marines. Her entire family line on both sides where marines in the United States Military. Her six other siblings have magical powers and abilities making her the black sheep, the dude of the family. She is also the last born making her even more the outcast in her own family. Thus growing up was tough. Her parents expecting her to do the most mundane tasks and to measure up to her older siblings. With magical abilities and powers in her family since Armageddon. The old ways died off. It wasn't till she was cleaning the basement that she found a secret room built by her great great grandparents that housed military hardware. Though relics, they still could do damage. Also where training simulations and lessons on paper and computer.

Secretly learning from these simulations and lessons while acting infront of her family. It took five years to learn everything in that room before she "borrowed" an old pickup truck the family used around the place to pack all the stuff she had including the weapons in the basement before taking off. Never looking back and never taking **** from anyone. Including magical items, creatures, and people. She got into a fight only a few months after leaving her family behind after getting the Marine symbol tattooed on her back with a magical creature. She ended up loosing her right eye in the fight and a passing magician replaced it with a magical eye. Though she insisted it only function like her normal eye. She also had him magically dye her hair dark red with gold highlights. Black hair to her was a reminder of the family that wanted her to be what she can't ever do.

She's been driving an old beat up pickup that's been modified to have armor plating and extensive upgrades to suspension and engine areas.
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Excellent. I'm hoping to get a few more people, but I'll be starting this by the end of the week. Sign-ups will remain open.

EDIT: I feel that it should be made clear as to why a secondary character was requested for future applicants. The plane (which is awesome) is just far too big for some of the adventures that will take place in this story. A smaller character was requested just so the player wouldn't be sitting on the sidelines. Even the ghost car is too big in some cases. Edited by Inuyasha Fandom
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