Thread: Claymore RPG: [First Mission Epilogue]

OOC:

A few things I wanna say before the epilogue begins. Mainly it's about post format, while most people most in a way that's easy to read, others do not. A simple layout helps that, for example:

At the top of your post, have your name. Something like Name, but you can vary that a bit, .:Name:.

Text is normal, don't do any long run on sentences that end after 3 lines. "Speech text" should be in quotation marks and bolded (highlight the text and press ctrl+b to do it easy). "Thoughts should" also in quotation marks, but should be in italics (ctrl+I). You can colour the text if you feel you must, however if you abuse it and use overly bright and stupid colours that make stuff hard to read, then I'll just say no to color in the future.

You can't control the actions of NPCs, I said this before, I warned people in the last mission (without fear of anything) and reminded gently etcetc. You should all be used to this by now so I don't expect to see it. I will only allow it if you clear the action/speech with me first. You also can't control the actions/speech of any PC unless you get their consent to do so. So ask in the other thread or PM them and get clearance. Don't rely on this though, since I'll only allow NPC control if I feel you need it. Also, don't go around controlling other people's characters because someone's being lazy, or they haven't posted in a while. Be patient and all that.

Absofuckinglutely no godmodding. Zero tolerance with this, do not disregard what I or Miria have said about an action and go off in your own little world doing whatever you please. Remember, we control the outcomes, you decide the course of action.

That's all I have to say for now, but if I think of something else or someone else thinks there's something that needs to be added (let me know) I'll add it later. Enough with the psuedo nazi-ness, let's get on with the game. Sorry for the delay, I slept longer than I thought I would.

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IC: [Black Suit debriefing]
The suits had waited for everyone to settle down. Some were later than others and some in better shape. Everyone stared at their handlers, silent and cold. The chills sent down the trainee survivors spines came from the gritty anticipation. They were about to see if they had made it into the ranks of the greats. Some were nervous, others excited, all burned with a passion to be a help to the world.

The the darkness approached an old man dressed in black. His cape glided across the floor, but didn't hide his body. His hood reached around his head, with strand of hair curled around his neck, blowing in the wind across his chest.

"Good job, young trainees," the man said, pausing slightly to look at all the survivors left "today was your final test. A mission to see who would get to be instated, as a warrior. And become that which they most want." He raised his hand as he finished his sentence, beckoning forth another being. A female warrior, the one with the weird hair had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and stood silently next to the man. "Today was not just about how well you can fight. There are many other factors that decide the outcome of battle, you will be judged and evaluated based on many things. Your potential is being decided, and soon you will have the results of your final mission."

He looked at all the trainees, there were 20 in total, but a few caught his eye. "This will be a competition between all of them, I wonder who will prove the most valuable in the end." Slowly his eyes panned across Sisteena, Lindy, Cecily, Alerian, Deimos, Arc, Farleen and Kaiserin. He was surprised to see 2 males had survived. According to the reports, every male sent in the field had either died or awakened. "They will be amongst the last of the males still in our ranks. Perhaps it would be especially wise to keep a close eye on them." He continued to muse quietly, while the trainee's became restless. One of them spoke up though "What will happen to those who don't get instated...um, sir." a fellow trainee said, voice quivering with fear.

"There are always spots open, we will consider those who have yet to be ranked in the future if need be," he stopped for a little bit, seemingly remembering something as he had pointed his had at a black suited on the far left of the line. The man nodded and walked away swiftly, he continued "those people might be called upon sooner than they think."

Worries filled the mind of the 20 hopefuls. What would become of those who weren't ranked and weren't called upon in the future?

"We are going to finish our deliberation, we will call you together when the time comes. Please, rest easy until then." The man turned around, cape and hair gracefully following suit, he walked off into the distance with the warrior and the rest of the handlers following him. All the trainees could do was wait...

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OOC: You can talk for a while now, talk to people you haven't done so yet and so on. Rankings coming soon =P Yes, yes, I know you're all waiting to hear them lol

OCC: Just decide to start things off thought I haven't decide which other character will Arc talk to beside Deimon. Anyway let's get this started and do it in Elcura format.

IC:
Arc

Arc quietly listened to the black suit and female half-breed warrior's speech as he observed them as close as he could. Arc was most intrested in finding out who will make the ranks and what ranks they get but can't do anything about that now. Arc figured, "Hmmm... I think they are only seriously considering about half of this group and it appears Deimon and I are some of the ones that are being considered. However I don't like that crack in that guys poker face when he looked over Deimon and me. Was that dissapointment or shock? And judging by the lack of male, half-breed trainees, probally both."

Then a fellow trainee spoke out in a voice quivering in fear, "What will happen to those who don't get instated...um, sir?" During the brief pause after Arc thought, "That is an intresting yet dangerous question I would really like to hear the anwser to this." The reply give by the man in black was. "There are always spots open, we will consider those who have yet to be ranked in the future if need be," the man in black then gave a thoughtful paused before he continued with, "those people might be called upon sooner than they think." "Oh so pretty much he saying that we won't last long due to either dying or awakening but, don't worry those who aren't chosen will soon be filling those position and any other place they needed filled. How nice of them?" Arc thought sarcasticly. Then Arc contiuned with a worry, "Too bad, that is what is most likely to pass."

"We are going to finish our deliberation, we will call you together when the time comes. Please, rest easy until then." said the man in black as he turned around and left. The warrior who was with him and the handlers follow suit leaving all the trainees to there own devices. "Now, is a good time to meet other half-breed. Some of them may make good comrades," Arc thought. Arc then whispered to Deimon who was still by him, "Deimon it looks like this is a good time as any, to make friends with other warrior or future warrior. And by the look of the looks that guy in black gave us we are going to need all the friend we can get."

.:Black Suit:.

The black cloaked handlers gathered to analyze and grade the survivors of the massacre, a total of 20 out of what was originally to begin with 200 aspiring trainees. It was a disastrous loss in some ways and a they caught the feeling reflected on some of the faces. Nontheless this was the common procedure as standardized by the organization long before any of the trainees had been born. It was a difficult battle they just underwent, non of the cloaks blamed them for the trouble. Afterall, a first hand experience in combat never produced too much survivors against a nest of yoma.

Sun had long vanished to be replaced by the glow of the brightly lit crescent looking down on the company of warriors below. Though they were tired and some heavily injured, they were alive from the unlucky rest. As the trainees attended to their injuries and recovered their lost vitality, a woman walked towards the cloaked men of the Organization. She greeted the rest gathered and was greeted back by Rubel "Agrias I see you've turned up then I assume Rimuto himself is busy? I see you brought Lans with you as the escort." The woman nodded and with her arrival they began to rank the survivors.

"Trainees, you have all done exceptionally well. I am happy to see so many had survived compared to our last generation. It is regrettable but though you have survived the ranks will be issued out to those who have performed above our expectations. However, keep in mind that as Ortre has mentioned vacant places will be avaialble in the future. With that I commence the ranking."

She took the Claymore of the one they refferred to as Lans and drew specific symbols on the ground with each name assigned to the insignias.

Kaiserin
Kaiserin waited nerviously while the bosses talk to them. She wasn't paying much attention to the black cloaks, she was more concerned with the trainee she had dragged up the mountain. She wasn't around with the rest of the trainees, a couple of black cloaks had taken her straight away, without saying a word to her. She fidgetted the entire time the man was talking, not even stopping when he gazed over all of them. Her legs trembled under her weight, standing up was a challenge, and every second was a test of endurance and she was steadily failing. It was quite clear to her that she would have to practice her skills more, as the small amount of stamina transferred left her incredibly fatigued.

Kaiserin looked over towards the other trainees, the only ones she recognized were Sisteena and Deimos, although she didn't know their names. She looked at Deimos and blushed a little, remembering her accident in the tree and then glaced over to Sisteena who seemed a little preoccupied (she was not a master of observation, she took everything with a grain of salt), remembering her encounter with that powerful beast.

"What did they say those things were?" She thought to herself. "Handlers always did talk a lot, they sure like the sound of their own voices" She thought she thought, but the reality was she had said it out loud. "Ah crap..." She also said, with her eyes slowly narrowing shut while looking down at the floor, like a pitiful dog. Luckily the handlers had already walked away to dilberate their discission. She sighed loudly raising her head in relief, "That might have ended badly..." She thought, looking around to clarify her thought really was a thought.

"Trainees, you have all done exceptionally well. I am happy to see so many had survived compared to our last generation. It is regrettable but though you have survived the ranks will be issued out to those who have performed above our expectations. However, keep in mind that as Ortre has mentioned vacant places will be avaialble in the future. With that I commence the ranking."

Her head perked up as those words were said. She was completely in her own world until that was said. Her eyes widened in anticipation.

"Kaiserin, 47."

"WHAT?! 47?" Was this a joke? She looked around at her fellow warriors, no longer trainees but symbol baring halfbreeds. She was happy that she had a rank now, but not only was 47 last, it was so far away from home. The handlers had shown the warriors where they would be stationed. She would have to rank up quite a bit to attain rank 40 and be able to visit home. She was feeling a little shy, rank 47 was often looked down upon, but all were low ranked so it wouldn't matter anyway.

Lindy

Lindy stood at attention till the Black coats left. She then looked around at the other 20 or so surviving Claymores and was relieved to see that Sisteena was among them.

"Erm what are the others without rankings going to do? Will they need to go through another test like today some time soon?"

The many injured and exhausted Claymores did not encourage Lindy to walk up to them to strike a casual conversation. Instead, she went to aid the many others who were injured.

"We'll be assigned to the various areas soon. I wonder whether I will need to under-go any covert mission in towns?"

Though it had been a long and tiring day, Lindy was still optimistic about the future and am glad that she had finally received her rank.

"I will be able to finally see how the outisde world is like! Maybe I can get to know more interesting characters and try out the various food delicacies in towns soon."

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OOC: Feel free to chat with Lindy, she's a friendly character.

Alerian

Stands still and listens to the black coats while scanning the other surviving trainees without doing any unnecessary movements until the black coats left.

“Thinks to himself: Errrrrr they even mistook me for a woman? and it seems that I didn’t received any rank either. Well they said that there will be another chance for us then it will be another exam of massacre I got to prepare myself.”

Still with Lindy since she is the only person he is familiar as of yet helps her in aiding the injured trainees and talks to her.

“It seems that you received the highest rank in this batch congratulation while I didn’t receive a rank hahaha. Well do I really look like a female seriously because it seems that they always mistook me for one.”

Waits for Lindy’s answer to his question with a serious look on his face.

Lindy

"Well, you do look pretty. Think positively! I am sure that you will get to charm many others in towns with your pretty boy look." Lindy replied Alerian with a smile, hoping that he would cheer up.

"Do you think that there will be a possibility that we will get posted to some mission together? Though I have received rank #40, I am still unsure what my duties are."

Lindy helped an injured Claymore to a clean spot so that she could rest. Turning to face Alerian, Lindy said, "And don't worry Alerian, I am sure that you will be joining the ranks soon. It is, after all, you who found me back in the woods. You're pretty good in hiding your Yoki aura."

*Lindy stomach growled*

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OOC: Lindy is hungry after a hard day work

.: Deimos :.

"--by the look of the looks that guy in black gave us we are going to need all the friend we can get."

Deimos shifted his eyes to Arc without moving his face from where the organization's representative had stood. The waning moon silhouetted the gathering's features and cast sinister depths to ghostly flesh as they awaited the verdict on their ranking.

He glanced away. Shrugged, then murmured in return. "Friendship's no merit in our line of work, Arc. Especially since we're two of the last of the males. If not the last of them, perhaps. We may as well be hated all the same. But I'll not block you from making friends. Do as you wish.

"If you have any luck, see to it you pick one of these girls to accept your black card one day. It's the only way we can die with something human left." Deimos smiled without warmth, cold as the winters of his childhood. "I'm afraid I'll probably throw you into the fire like I did to that yoma, if you were to give me your card. Fire cleanses everything, you know."

His opinion stated, Deimos searched for a spot to rest. He found an outcropping of rock just at the edge of the crowd, to their right, and there at its foot he stuck his sword upright. For a moment he caught the eye of another Claymore--

"Oh. So she made it out, that woman who fell from the tree."

The tattered remnants of his cloak rustled to a wind borne by night's descent upon the mountains. Deimos sat in the dirt, closed his eyes, and tried to reach at a place hidden from all human perception...

"So. I can feel yoki again. I have got to get this ability under control to at least become comparable to my suppression of yoki energy to tiny tendrils of aura."

Relief eased what little tension showed on his face.

"Hmm? Ah--someone's speaking. Are we going to know our ranks now?"

Deimos opened his eyes. Blinked. The roll call had begun.

"--Arc, 46. Cecily, 43. Deimos, 45--"

"Third." The word sounded like an insult. He sighed, internal thoughts resigned if a touch amused. "Must've been due to my setting that forest fire. But I've no ambition--if that feeling can still be called that--to rise up in rank. I'll not be their pet.

I'll slaughter as many yoma as I can hunt down. That is all there is left of me.

Mother. I hope you are well. Here I am now, my own weapon against the beasts who killed Father."

Deimos crossed his arms and glowered at the moon.

Alerian

Alerian loosen his serious face and smiles a little at Lindy’s reply.

“Well guess I’ll take your word for it well and I’m just happy to hear your word. As for getting posted at the same mission together there is always a chance that we’ll be in the same mission if fate desires it but I must have a rank first for that to be possible."

When hearing the grumbling sound off Lindy’s stomach. “Well it seem that you are hungry lets find something to eat what do like because you can find many edible thing here in the forest and I’m quite sure of my hunting skills.”

Smiles at Lindy when he finished his sentence.

Cecily ~{@

Cecily began to count the number of surviving trainees, each one battered and bruised but some in worse shape than others. “This is all that’s left? There’s only twenty left including me and Farleen,” she said to herself. The silver-eyed blond was horrified at the results of the mission. More than a hundred had set out that morning and now a tenth of that number was remaining. “We were dead the day we were picked up by these cloaks… the chances of living again is as thin as a hair’s breadth.”

Cecily turned her downtrodden eyes to the briefing’s campfire. The sight of scarlet cracks on the burning pieces of firewood soothed her petrified heart. The dancing embers swirled behind wandering flakes of ash. The black slivers flew up into the midnight sky, finding their place beside the feint glimmer of stars. “To each piece a soul…” the warrior whispered to the evening wind.

The designation of ranks was about to begin. Instead of being eager to hear the given posts, Cecily was preoccupied looking at a wayward moth fluttering near the fire. Suddenly the moth’s wings caught fire and it began to descend into the heart of the flame. Cecily's dangerous first mission involuntarily flashed before her eyes, but she snapped out of it when she heard her name- “…Cecily, 43, Deimos, 45…”

“43… to balance a briquet or szabla by its blunt edge upon one’s head while holding a pair of ornate daggers in both hands… hand gestures, foot movement, hips swaying appropriately to the rhythm of the drums,” Cecily mumbled softly to herself. Her rank number was the same number of the practice set she had before her family was killed that fateful night. Before she could reminisce any further, the halfbreed raised her head with a strong determination to continue by her promise. Finished with her self-encouragement, she started looking at the other claymores and began to memorize their faces, their names, their symbols and their ranks.