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Unraveled Destiny

Akieen Cloud

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The year: 3018


The small base creaked and shook as the desert winds outside howled, slamming against the metallic walls, the plexi-glass windows shuddered with the force of the winds as an older man stood behind one of them staring into the swirling sands. His hands clasped together behind his back, his graying hair was slicked back away from his weathered face, dark brown eyes clouded by his deep thoughts. His white lab coat hung loosely from his shoulders as he simply stared out the window. The howl of the winds outside made him uneasy as nothing could be seen in the distance, no way of knowing what was out there. The times were hard, the once beautiful, thriving earth almost nothing but a dusty rock now, the remaining bits of humanity clinging for survival across the dying planet. The older man's mind went back in time as he remained vigil in his observation of the wold outside his window; he could remember back to 10 years ago when this very place had been a thriving forest, full of life and beauty. But that was before, before they came. The Utherians, a proud race of alien creatures, they stood over 7 feet tall, their skin came in a multitude of colors. Thin and skeletal like they were ruthless and wicked, they had claimed peace before breaking that vow. And now they were at the mercy of a bloodthirsty race that had invaded and enslaved the human race, mining the planet of its resources til all that was left was what the man could see in front of him now. 

The wind howled once more, louder, as if the planet herself were in pain over the loss of her life force. He unclasped his hands and crossed his arms over his broad chest as he saw a small space open within the vortex of sand giving him a small glimpse of the blue sky above them. Proof that there was indeed hope among the people of earth. The Utherians had brought with them technology that was far beyond the people of Earth, and as they retreated from the planets surface to survey her death from a distance, safe in their ships that linger in the Earth's atmosphere some of that technology had been left behind. 

That was why this base was so valuable, it was here that the technology found had been brought back to life, the machines being much more then what they first appeared to be. The large beasts had proved to have minds of their own, agendas and opinions; and once they had been revived they had proved to be quite the handful. The beasts themselves had once been slaves to the Utherians who had brought them here, disposing of them once their usefulness was done. They swore revenge on the alien life forms but only once the right person had been brought forward to pilot the massive beings. The man's mind wandered to the massive forms in the underground hanger below the base now, there were five in all, all of them resembling animals and creatures from the man's past that he could remember clearly. The fiercest one was the large Golden dragon that bellowed from the depths of the base, his rage was potent as it mingled with the howls of the wind outside. The second held a soul that was deep and wise, the Tiger would lay there as if deep in her own thought, only opening her bright green metallic eyes to glance at the professor when he walked in to check their diagnostics. The third was a large black wolf, he was withdrawn and to himself, his glowing blue eyes focused as he watched the humans shuffle about. The fourth was the smallest of the beasts, she was no less a threat though; she was the most social of them as well. She would speak with the man, her voice echoing deep within his mind asking if he had found their pilots; each time the small fox would lower her metallic ears in sadness at his decline. Her white metallic fur off set by her jet black nose and black outlined amber eyes. The last of the beasts was the most magnificent, regal in standing and demanding of respect the Griffin would only hold it's head high, the professor and the rest of the mechanics restoring them not worth his time to notice. His bronze body glimmered, even in the dank depths of the underground hanger. 


Finally pulled from his thoughts the man turned as a slight woman walked in, her oval glasses hanging low on her nose, her black hair pulled back into a tight bun as she entered, a clipboard in her hands. 


"Sir, word has come from the underground factions."
"What word?"


She handed him a small stack of papers, five in all. 


"Each of the factions has presented us their top combatant, they believe that these five people might be worthy of being our pilots. Sir."


Looking through the files he nodded at each before handing them back to the shorter woman. 


"Its the best hope we have. Send for them immediately. If they are indeed the chosen pilots, the bonding process will have to begin as soon as possible." 


She nodded and left the man alone once more, a small spark of hope building within his chest, they might finally be their time to strike back. 


The most important question being, would these five men and women rise to the task of being the Earths defenders...?


Sign ups-


Name (first and last):




Appearance(photo, description or both):


Speciality(hand to hand combat, firearms, demolition ect):





Here's mine as an example if needed. 


Name: Etna Rhodes

Age: 27

Gender: Female

Personality: Quiet and fierce when on the field she differs slightly off the field around her peers. Still quiet and reserved she will join in occasional conversations but prefers to listen to those around her rather then out right join. Seemingly standoffish on the outside, on the inside she is rather friendly and social; once she gets to know the people around her. 

Appearance: Etna stands at an average height of 5'6, lean and toned in body she has flaming red hair that reaches the middle of her back and seemingly glowing blue eyes. Her attire is always simple, blue jeans with tank tops or sleeveless shirts that are normally covered by a black, sleeveless leather duster coat that reaches the back of her knees. When not being worn her black, finger-less gloves are tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. Being a part of the underground factions in the West sector she carries a few weapons on her person. a black pistol that resides in the holster that hugs her left shoulder and a small belt that contains petite, yet deadly throwing knives. Black boots don her feet, thick soled and reaching the bottom of her knees, they zip on the sides for easy wear but are decorated in several buckles. 

Region: West sector

Specialty: Etna is a well versed fighter, trained efficiently in hand to hand combat and blade mastery, the pistol she carried is usually a last resort. Being top in her class in both marital arts and blade use in the Western faction she feels most comfortable with a blade in her hand, but if need be she could strike out bare handed as well. 

Mech-animal: Wolf


Etna's head snapped up from the tattered book she read as there was a knock on the door to her dismal living area. Only half the size of a one bedroom apartment with a bathroom barely big enough for her to squeeze into. The shower built onto the wall with the drain in the center of the tiny bathroom. No mirror and her bed was elevated and bolted to the wall, able to be folded against the wall if the extra room was needed. Her clothes resided in the small baskets that hung from her ceiling as well as what ever personal effects she had, no that she had much. Sliding gracefully from her bed she landed on her toes gently, the cold from the cement floor seeping through her socks and into her skin. Padding lazily towards her door she placed an old worn book mark between the pages of her book to keep her place, dropping the old book into one of the baskets smoothly as she made her ways across the small room. She was thankful for the few things she did have, but she near hated the base she lived in; the West faction was the poorest of all the underground factions out there, five in all, North, South, East, West and Central. All of them the same; dusty, barren, and lifeless. Reaching the other side of her sparse surroundings she pressed a small button on her wall to open the door, not reacting as the faction commander stood in front of her. The larger man was tall and broad, his black hair had streaks of gray throughout it now as he aged, his face was graced with a large scar that ran from his hair line down to his chin; his right eye constantly forced to stay closed due to the damage. His skin was dark and thick, littered with scars, small and large. Clearing his throat he grabbed her attention and handed her a folder with her name on it. 

"Your being transferred to Central faction, the shuttle leaves in an hour."

She nodded, not really caring where she went, anything was better then the prison like room she resided in now. Reaching her bed she pressed her hand on a small spot to the left of it causing a small cubby hole to appear.  Reaching in she pulled out a large green bag that she filled with her clothes and personal items; the bag remained only half full by the time she was done. Looking at the holographic clock on her wall she nodded, it was time to leave. She headed for the small underground shuttle system that all the factions had made for communication and transportation between them. Climbing on the fairly small shuttle she took a seat and reclined back in the seat as after a few minutes the shuttle took off.

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Name: Dakota Storm
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Personality: Dakota is a very unusual person. Off of the field during down time he is always smiling, making jokes about himself, a functioning alcoholic, and loves to fight, workout and cigars. Always one for a good challenge and to learn something new he is quite smart but doesn't show it more taking the route of making himself seem less imposing towards others.

Just a little over six foot with dark brown hair and a genetic albino mutation that turned his eye red though his skin still in tan.

Polite and one to always open the door for others, he is very charismatic and chatty though has never been known to talk about himself.

In battle though he has been called a psychotic, sociopath, and seems to have no regard for his own life. The bigger and harder the foe the more he enjoys himself. His smile is even bigger when chaos is present and has even know to be heard laughing like a mad man during combat.

He prefers not to lead, enjoying being the one told to fight. His favorite spot to be being the very front so he can be the first one to clash with the enemy. Unfortunately this Gets him in trouble with those in the leadership position as they deem him a loose cannon and an animal even though he has taken hits multiple times for his fellow soldiers.

Appearance: Dakota is covered with tattoos of skulls, chains, dragons, and blades of various styles the only thing not touched being most of his neck and all of his face and most of his hands and feet. Mixed in are numerous scars though most are from practice and stupid dares.

He prefers to wear just a simple blue tank top and desert camouflage pants bloused over a pair of tan combat boots along with muay thai tape wrapped around his forearms to his fingers with thick scale plated metal gloves.

He is blind in his left eye but adapted to it and most people believe that he can actually see and the simple black patch is only for show.

Normally seen with a light machine gun slung on his back with a shotgun with an undermounted grenade launcher in hand and a pistol on the right thigh with a large almost machete sized dagger on the left thigh with a bandolier of grenades for the grenade launcher on the sling that holds his lmg.

He carries attached to the bandolier several satchels containing various items from which he makes his favorite thing in the world. Explosions.

Region: South

Specialty: Dakota is a pretty decent shot as he only as one eye and the other is covered though he prefers to lay down suppressing fire of shred targets with a shotgun. But shooting is not his strong suit as he loves making things up close and personal focusing most of his life to mastering the martial art forms of silat, muay thai, Krav maga, sambo, and capoeira making him very agile and quick for his large size.

As for blades he only carries it as a last resort though knows enough how to use it to defend himself. He is a demo man at heart preferring so solve every thing by the way of explosions and fire. While he doesn't seem smart he can make a bomb out of almost anything.

Mech Animal: Dragon

Snippet: Sweat pooled on the floor below him as he balanced on his hands in a handstand. With a slow inhale he lowered his body rotating his shoulders till he was parallel with the ground holding it a second before exhaling rotating himself back vertical. With another exhale and inhale he did a handstand pushup. "Ten"

He kicked his feet spinning his body around using his hands to keep himself up in what most people would consider a break dance though to him, it was just another way to fight. He went through various moves putting kicks and strikes in the flips and twists keeping his body moving for the next five minutes before finally stopping.

"Your insane you know that right?" A female voice called out to him as he stretched.

With a smile he jumped grabbing the bars above him in the jail cell cage he called home and hooked his legs before letting himself hang completely outstretched upside down.

"Oh you love it" Dakota replied jokingly pausing when he noticed it was the faction commander. "Oh you know you love it ma'am"

"That's better" Average height with a rocking body for her age and dark brown eyes she defiantly didn't look like the fighting type though she had put Dakota in his place a few times. Not physically but verbally. She took a seat on his cot that he kept up against the wall.

"Why do you live in this?"

"Seven....why....eight....cause its fun.....nine.....and it's an at home gym....ten"

"Stop working out for just five seconds" She ordered Dakota stopping in mid sit up holding it.

"Your being transferred to Central."

"Oh really, the girl's cute there?" He said with a teasing smile.

"Dakota will you take something serious for once in your life. They might not be too..." She paused searching for the words. "Understanding of your methods"

"Life is too short. Should live a little, maybe even right now" His eye gleamed with his words as his veins started to bulge from holding the position.

She gave a sigh setting a folder on his cot before getting up to leave. "Your to leave immediately. And arrive there sober"

Dakota pulled himself up and dropped to his feet. "What the hell did I do to deserve such cruel and unusual punishment?"

"Your representing us in whatever they have planned. Represent like I would"

"So I have to go in a bikini? I haven't waxed my lines though"

"DAKOTA STORM!" She snapped pulling a serrated knife and holding it to his throat. "You have your orders now go"

"Yes mom" His voice dripped with sarcasm as he packed his one bag worth of items before grabbing the folder and heading out of the cell.

"Your forgetting something" She said impatiently holding out her hand. He stared at her then frowned pulling a half empty bottle of rum from his bag and placing it in her hand.

"Buzzkill" Half an hour later he found himself in line to get on the shuttle and was almost on when one of his fellow soldiers walked up to him.

"Let me see the bag"

He clutched his duffel bag tightly. "Oh come on Smith" He feigned being upset.

"You know what she said Storm. Hand it over" Smith chuckled as Dakota pulled out a freshly opened bottle from his bag taking a long swing before handing it over.

"Enjoy that for me and stay alive alright" They clasped hands and patted each other on the back.

"You too. The unit is going to miss your crazy ass"

"Ha I am the normal one. The rest of ya'll are weird" He waved as he took his seat on the shuttle waiting patiently as it began to pull off from the station before reaching into his faded desert fatigue trousers and pulling another bottle he had fastened to the back of his calf along with a cigar.

With a long drink and a heavy puff he put his hands behind his head. "Wonder what I got thrown into to?" Edited by Darth Vader
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Name: Erin Auria


Age: 21


Gender: Male


Personality: Erin is like two sides of a coin. On the field, he is a ruthless tactician bent on controlling the flow of battle. Off the field, he is a quiet man who keeps to himself while working on his speeder. He does tend to rub authority the wrong way, and enjoys doing so. If he's given a task to do though, he will complete it as efficiently as possible. Despite his anarchist tendencies, he seems to inspire those around him to do their best.


Region: East


Specialty: Mechanics, Tactics, Scouting, Sniping, and Cooking.


Mech: Fox


Erin stands at 5'11", and is very skinny. He has reddish-orange hair and brownish-red eyes. He is usually dressed in his preferred outfit of leather pant that lace up the side tucked into black motorcycle boots and a red tank under a ripped white tank. His armaments are always kept handy, which consist of two custom designed and built pistols with built in silencers strapped to each thigh and a high powered anti tank rifle slung across his back.


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"You've got to be kidding me." he groaned as he stepped into his garage. He set the box of parts he was carrying onto an open space on a nearby workbench.


"Is that anyway to greet your commander?" asked the man that had caused the earlier comment. He moved towards the parked speeder. "Impressive ride you got here. Built it yourself from salvaged alien tech?" he asked, running a finger down the side of the vehicle.


"Yeah. But you didn't come here to check out my ride." Erin said as he walked over with some tools and started to work on the speeder, smacking the guys hand with the wrench as he passed. "So spit it out. Why are you here?"


"To the painful point as usual." he shook his hand in pain, rubbing where he got hit. "I'm here because you've got new orders. You're being sent to Central. Don't know why it took so long, but it looks like you're getting the boot." he said, trying to get a rise out of Erin as he handed him the folder with his orders.


"Good. I could use the time to look for more parts. This baby is really gonna fly when I'm done with her. However, how are you going to replace your best strategist and scout? It's not like anybody else came close to my scores on the last challenge." he smirked as his jab took the fluff out of the man. "Oh, well. When do I leave?" 


"In two hours. Transports getting ready now, so you have time to pack your bags."


"Don't need it." he said as he closed the panel and packed up his tools. he thumped the wall by the work table and a storage locker opened up to show a packed sea bag. He then began to to load his bag and various boxes of tools and parts into the speeder. "I'll be taking my speeder, it's way faster than any transport. Besides, if I'm going to do any scouting, I'm going to need the best equipment with me." he added, walking over to the weapons locker and strapping on his pistols and stowing his sniper in the car.


"That didn't take long... How long have you been packed?"


"Since I got here. Never hurts to be ready to move out."

"Talk about paranoid."
"Nope, just prepared." with that said, he hoped into his speeder and drove out, wondering what lies in store for him.
Edited by Nyxian
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  • 2 weeks later...

Name: Charlette Von Lee


Age: 21


Gender: Female


Personality: Wither on or off the field. Charlette observers before acting. Her actions got her called Maniac Char. Always enjoying destroying things.

No matter what it is. Doing so after she observers so not to make a mistake in what she does. Very outspoken and blunt in what she says about people

and situation.


Appearence: 2vkylv7.jpg Standing at 5 foot tall. Always has a pair of red goggles around her neck. Dyed her red hair emerald green as to rebel against her family. Due to the state of the world, her eyes turned green as her hair at an early age.


Region: North


Specialty: She carries a few weapons of choice. One is a modified tri-barreled gatling gun that uses an energy converter to generate the rounds on the spot and use electric propulsion instead of gun powder. Another is a .50AE hold over desert eagle using modified rounds on the same principles as the ammo for the gatling gun. The last is a broken sniper rifle she found while rummaging through the ruins of an old military base. A .50 bmg M82 sniper rifle.


Mech-Animal: Tiger


Snippet: Charlette is part of a roaming gang in the northern underground region that attacks the gangs that goes around and kills the people trying to make ends meet. Not a very well respected gang as the militia still considers them a threat. Though the militia won't go after the gangs and most other gangs are not willing to go against the leader. Maniac Char. Sometimes referred to as the emerald death. Every gang leader that challenged her ended up in a body bag and their gang absorbed into her's. Their known for having something green on their body at all times. Most dye their hair. Charlette has been observing a new gang that came from the west that's been beating not only the smaller gangs but the people as well for what ever they have. 


"Boss, these new guys are ruining our rep." One of her lieutenants said as the others are whispering to each other.


Charlette looks over her lieutenants and officers as they all chat about the situation. She sighed as she stands up before grabbing her broken weapon.


"Oh shit, she's got that old thing..." One of her lower officers says to another. "You know what that means."


"Yes I'm going to go challenge the leader of that gang for dominance. Take care of the place while I'm gone." Charlette says before leaving to challenge the leader of the other gang.

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Ok, I'm either gonna start this tonight or tomorrow depending on when our last member get signed up for it. That being said, Zien i'm gonna ask you to make just a few tweaks to your sign up. Mainly just the part on how your character leaves. Keep in mind we're supposed to be chosen to protect humanity and save the world. The fact that your character is in and runs a gang doesn't bother me. But all of us are supposed to be a member of the underground factions put together to put a stop to the threat of our world. Your supposed to be approached and spoken to by one of the higher ranking member and told your transferring stations. Once that change is made and our last member gets signed up this is will going up and getting started. Either tonight or tomorrow so keep an eye out. 

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Name: Kiba Akin Cloud

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Personality: Kiba is very outgoing and friendly toward about anyone he meets. He is very enthusiastic about his work unless it involves hurting others. Unfortunately, still not quite in adulthood, some of his teenage traits still stuck. He doesn't quite know how to deal with women, so he tries to avoid conversation with them unless they're his superior. Whenever not on the field, Kiba spends a lot of his time painting things from his dreams to keep himself from focusing on the current situation of the world.

Appearance: Kiba stands at roughly 5'7", weighing in at about 156 lbs with an athletic build. His skin is slightly tanned which contrasts with the white hair he inherited from his mother. His dichromatic eyes make him stand out even more so, his left a dark brown and his left is an icy blue color. He has slightly longer canines than most other people, though he has never been seen biting anyone. 

Region: East sector

SpecialtyKiba excels at close-quarters combat, whether in hand-to-hand or with a weapon in hand. He is only somewhat proficient with firearms, using a desert eagle as his weapon of choice. When confronting an armed enemy, as opposed to drawing his own weapon, he often disarms them and uses their own weapon against them or putting them on level playing ground in hand-to-hand. Like his father, he's been used for scouting the fields, having inherited his father's stealth.

Kiba carries a modified falchion into combat that has the ability to super-heat the edge of the blade for a short period of time in order to cut through metals or heat just enough for emergency cauterization on the field.

Mech-animal: Griffon

Snippet: "Ensign Cloud, reporting, sir!" Kiba said to his commander, saluting as he stepped into his commander's office. His commander stood from the desk, raising a hand in order for Kiba to relax. "You sent for me, Commander Jinrai?"


The man on the other side of the desk stood up slowly, blonde hair unbunching from being up against the back of his seat. "That's correct, Ensign." He cleared his throat, looking up with light brown eyes. "For starters, I would like to congratulate you, Ensign. You're being graduated to Lieutenant for your hard work, son. You've earned it," he said, approaching Kiba with a nod, adorning him with his new medal before his face grew grim. "You're far too young for this line of work, Kiba, but you're being called for a greater mission in Central."


Kiba's excitement for his promotion died as soon as he heard his Commander's last line. "W-wait, but I just got promoted here. Why am I being transferred, sir? Did I do something wrong?"


His commander shook his head with a smile. "Absolutely not, Lt. Cloud. You've done excellent work, and that's exactly why you're being transferred. They see that you have potential, and since you're as young as you are, I'm sure they can appreciate a young body to help the cause there."


Kiba wasn't sure exactly how to feel about the transfer, but he knew it would be his duty regardless of his feelings. This wasn't an optional thing for him to waste any time thinking about. It was more of a "So when do I leave, sir?" situation, which he inquired of his superior.


"As soon as you can get your things together." Kiba's commander extended a hand. "Hope to have you back soon, son. Be careful out there," he said with a smile.


Kiba smiled, shaking his hand with a nod. With one last salute, he turned and exited the office before making haste to his quarters. He packed everything as quickly as he could, being careful with his artwork and packing it into a hard case with a shoulder strap. Once his small room of belongings was together, he hopped on the next shuttle to Central, curious as to what he had in store.

Edited by Kayin Cloud
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