Gall_

Isn't the redraw a royal pain with an Archery/Mind blaster though?

Nation/Apport would be either an Archery/Mind Blaster or Assault Rifle/Mind Blaster. Yet to decide on it

Superstrength scrappers
Loincloths
Quivers
3D face masks
Underwater maps
More cossie parts/patterns/textures
Textured masks that MATCH the rest of the outfit!

Yeah by me :P

Have an idea for an American Indian archer/mind called Nation (unless its taken). He's a psychic/telekineti archer who draws power from public feeling/national pride/spirit.

Might call him Apport instead, have him a teleporter too.

Phytopath, Two minutes til Cadre breakout

Alfred's escape into the general population of riotring prisoners was somewhat unexciting.

He stood, immobile in direct sunlight. Drawing as much power from the sun as he could, his mossy, crusted feet rooting themselves in the thin topsoil of the yard. Every now and again a thorn would erupt from his bulk and be propelled by unseen forces at anyone that drew too near. He waited, and fed, and watched.

Machine gun fire tore earthy chunks from his flank, provoking at last a direct response from the man of mulch.

He sneered, closing his eyes and summoned help from the roots in the soil under his feet. Entangling, razor edged tendrils erupted from the ground, grabbing the Longbow gunner, the vegetative teeth tearing at his legs. He screamed once, before Alfred's now fully thorned fist punched through his throat.

The Flyer was approaching fast. Alfred focused his energies on moving at last, striding across the bullet torn prison yard. A grenade landed next to him, the muffled explosion more than adequately ripping his left arm off at the elbow. Incapable of feeling pain as others did, Alfred merely grunted his disgust and moved on, trailing torn and ragged plant matter from the horribly bloodless wound.

The others had reached the Flyer, climbing on board as he rounded the wall it had sheltered behind. He had just grabbed the handrail of the wing door....

The explosion threw his impressive bulk back thirty feet. Longbow flamers surrounded him as he bellowed in fury, before shrieking in terror as their flames engulfed him, pouring superheated gas onto him until nothing remained but ash. Ash, and the hand he'd left behind on the Flyer's handrail.

The Flyer lifted off, hitting its boosters to clear the prison wall before the heavy guns could be brought to bear. As the others settled back in their seats the hand trembled, seemed to visibly swell in the sunlight, then fell from the Flyer, shower the streets below with countless parachuted seeds.

THEN

The sun sank low over the tree line. The sounds of the day faded gradually, replaced by the chirrups of crickets, the ribbits of toads and frogs and the calls of various nocturnal predators, awoken by the coming of dusk. Wet, sucking sounds permeated the swampland, the signs that larger predators crept through the pervading blackness. A deep gurgling bubbled up through the swamp water, a predator, it seemed had passed below. As the sun finally closed its great yellow eye the night sky burst with sounds, fireflies whirled and danced their way through the mangrove, dodging creepers and vines with an agility no pilot could achieve. And yet, amongst this bounty, this enviable eruption of wet, clinging life, a sense of the alien arrived.

Alfred Leshii ran. He might have been running for his life, were you to view the thundering footfalls of his approach for that of panic. But he wasn’t. Not yet. He saw himself as a hero. A warrior that fought for the protection of animals, for the defence of the natural world and fought for, simply, what was in his frenzied mind, the greater good.

The laboratory building sat on an artificial island among the mangroves, surrounded somewhat limply by rivulets of razor wire. Not really sufficient to keep anyone out, this was just as well for Alfred’s sake. He deftly pulled his less than impressive five foot three, bear chested frame under the wire and made his way to the maintenance access marked on his map.

The building was empty. The staff having left for the weekend left the buildings simple but autonomous systems to feed its test subjects and maintain the various drug administrations. Alfred forced the doors to the animal cages and began to release the imprisoned creatures one by one, chasing them to the open world outside and to his believed freedom.

Convinced of their escape he went about his other business in the maintenance tunnels, positioning the explosive charges Emmett had prepared for him. Arming them he started to make his way out of the compound, unaware that the charges weren’t kind enough to give him time enough to escape.

The explosion caught him from behind. The concussive blast shattered his body, the flaming chemicals vaporised his flesh. And the mangrove drank the remains.

-----------------------------------------------------

NOW

Leshii opened his “eyes”.

The guards watched him from behind the protective glass that separated him from the world outside. The intravenous pack that fed him with a meagre sugar-saline solution also force fed him a specially prepared tranquilliser that restricted his cellular activity and emotional variation.

His grey, membranous eyes blinked once as a WALDO entered his room cutting away fresh roots and shoots and spraying his massive bulk with a weak herbicide.

The guards weren’t taking chances. Not since his last two attendees had gotten sloppy and had been torn apart by his thorned limbs as a result. ‘D’ Block had its share of cocky guards, just as much as the other prison wings.

-----------------------------------------------------

THEN

Weeks passed.


Dew ran down the lower vein of the leaf, dripping slower and slower as its source ran dry. The night had been cold, but in the swamps some things colder lay on the moss crusted roots of the mangroves. Something monstrous and rotting believed itself to be a man, standing horribly waist deep in the salty, stinking water. It let out a low moan then lay limp again. In the distance it heard an entirely alien sound, a regular but un-patterned drone like the small creatures it watched fluttering from flower to flower, only this was louder. Curiosity again seized the shapes mind and it rose from its mossy pit and began striding through the ever-darkening swamp, following the direction the noises seemed to come from. It crossed several small streams before it saw a new stream. This new stream however didn't move, it made no sound and remained flat and grey. The shape stood gazing at the grey stream confused that the sounds it had followed had come from this silent immobile strip. It stepped tentatively onto the strip, feeling the surface was more rock like than water.

At that a dark shape with flaring lights pouring from its front came rushing at it. Befuddlement and interest froze the rotting figure in its tracks as it watched the oncoming shape approach faster. At the last minute the shape, clearly a car, swerved and the driver strained to stop it from skidding into what he perceived to be a bear. He almost succeeded.

The left wing of the car, a dark green saloon struck the green rot hard, steel crumpling with the impact. The impact scattered the rotting thing in every direction. A green, stinking stew of plant matter sprayed the road, car and the trees from whence it had come. The driver pulled away limpingly then sped away, his driving now erratic, desperate to flee.

Several hours passed before the rotting, plant thing had reassembled itself in a twisted mockery of the human form. It stood then, gazing along the strip in the direction its attacker had fled in. Grunting loudly it began walking, just out of sight it followed the road, seeing a strange tree by the roadside that had shapes emblazoned on it.

"Paragon City, 60 miles ahead. We welcome weary travellers."

The shape didn't realise the significance and continued walking.

-----------------------------------------------------

NOW, D BLOCK

“Mr. Leshii? Sorry, would you prefer, Phytopath?”

Alfred looked up.

“I have a proposition for you....”

The rotting, plant-mulch matter thing that had once been Alfred Leshii grinned a foul, peat stained grin.

Rapid Assault, Protection, Investigation, Evacuation and Rescue


Pure genius!

How about calling them

The National Guard?

Anyone seen or used it yet?

I should be on tonight, I'm on global as @Redsight if that helps?

Wow! Thanks, Big Lunk

Yep this sounds like a laugh!

Size of a Cow by the Wonderstuff

Jeez, that takes me back.....

Dear.....

Hell I've never been good at this.....

Hey, my name's Relay....Danny Foster even.

I work in a TV Repair shop over in Skyway, money's lousy but it's about as good a job as I can get on account that nobody wants a mute working for them. Not going to give you any b/s about saving the world or anything like that. To me the grant represents something more personal.

Why should I get it?

I'm honest. The money'd go towards paying my way. My costume's forever getting damaged and repairs cost big time if I can't fix it myself. With the grant, I could buy myself a decent outfit, maybe one of those new fangled micromesh weave things I saw in the window at Icon. That way I could have more of a chance when I'm out there doing "my bit".

Anyway, we gotta stand up for the little guy, right?

Yours Hopefully,

Danny Foster

[ QUOTE ]
many discarded / damaged suits there must be out there after all this time and all those heroes.


[/ QUOTE ]


Which is kinda the route I'd be heading in....

I for one spend/spent hours coming up with names I like. Sadly, though, most are already taken :/

[ QUOTE ]
I know I'm going to be spending the next few months plotting!

Also, we could do some previous RP plots as flashback arcs.. Requiem War anyone?

[/ QUOTE ]

YES PLEASE!

Awesome....AGAIN!

LOVE that mask!

Wallflower - The Ziggurat Penitentiary. Now.

Prisoner Number D359-88 Z
Alfred Leshii
Human/Plant Mutate


"You shouldn't let that walking tater get to you, Greaves. He can see it you know, see that he frightens you. Hell, knowing that freak, he probably pollinates just thinking about it. Pollinates. Get it?" The portly old guard, Harper, prodded his rookie friend with his nightstick.

"Yeah I get it, Harper. Thanks. So what's his deal anyway?"

"Al? He's a funny onion, heh a funnion...." Greaves groaned in dismay.

"Yeah, well, anyway Al is a classic case of power falling into the wrong hands. He was an Eco Warrior, that what they call it? Yeah well, turns out Al broke into a lab, released a ton of animal experiments, spilled all sorts of new fangled biological material too. Idiot managed to blow himself up in there too. Turns out some "friends" of his wanted him dead. The bomb timer was all wrong."

Greaves pulled the incinerator from the wall rack outside the cell.

"Yeah? So how're we still looking at him?"

"I was getting to that, rookie! Well turns out some weird bio matter got splattered over him before the bomb went off, the explosion tossed him into the air leaving him broken and bloody. The stuff, the bio whatsit? Well it repaired him, or replaced him or something. Either way, he was alive. But only his memories were still human. You're looking at a rare find, Harper. A gin-yoo-wine plant man."

He pulled the cell door open as the rookie aimed the incinerator.

"Ok, Tuber...." He winked at the rookie, "time for your daily exercise. Wouldn't want you taking root now would we?"

The restraints snapped free, releasing the monstrosity. Al felt his freedom, celebrating it by stepping out of his water bath.

"And nothing funny, ya big fruit. Or we'll be having baked taters for lunch." Greaves waved the incinerator.

Al didn't respond, he simply strode past. His massive frame dwarfing the two guards, the green pallor of his vegetative flesh made Greave's stomach lurch...

The man root seemed to straighten as sunlight hit his sun starved flesh. He finally smiled as the guards withdrew to a watchtower, leaving their mossy prisoner to mingle with the other prisoners.

Wallflower

Alfred Leshii hung limply from the wall to his cell. His feet still bore the majority of his unnatural weight, but they did so with a wilt that was further cemented by the fact they were immersed in water. The cell's lighting was dimmed, just enough to see but not enough that he would be comfortable. He blinked inhuman, pale eyes as the IV in his arm was replaced by a mechanical arm. The scant nutrients provided just being enough to support life not nurture it. He smiled weakly as the waldo retracted, noting the fear in his keepers' eyes.

Buying it tomorrow, I'll look for you if I get a copy

What would the bind be that would trigger a) Lightning field b) Flight then c) the spacebar?

[ QUOTE ]
----------------Primary-------------Secondary
Blaster--------Dark Blast-------Dark Manipulation
Controller--Electric Control-----Cold Domination
Defender---Thermal Radiation-------Fire Blast
Scrapper-----Super Strength---------Ninjitsu
Tanker ------Electric Aura--------Electric Melee
Brute-----------Claws-------------------?
Corruptor-------Archery------------Trick Arrow
Dominator----Dark Control----------Dark Assault
Mastermind-------N/A--------------------?
Stalker-----------?----------------------?

[/ QUOTE ]


Seconded!