IC: "Yep." said Hobar sort of to himself. "What type of sniper have you got there?" he asked. Hoping it wasn't better than his pulled his own up with his right arm which looked really stupid. 'Why for the love of odd did I make it on the left side?!' he thought very angrily. "Sorry." he added a little embarresed. After all with an almost useless left arm why put it on that side?
OOC: Pretty short post.

OOC: ...Eh. Haven't been posting since I figured there was nothing to do but...Eh. I shall eat Palms.

IC
Looked like he (Altair) was coming. Egamorf signalled to him to come and began running. He didn't want to get caught running off, after all. The flake (himself) risked getting into trouble by his superiors. He was a sinner. He put himself and his own wants first. He could still see that industrial palce in the distance...Presumably that old geezer Pere was still following, right?

Bored and carefree, Fromage skipped away, sighing at the dull landspace. Just scruffy barracks, confined within some wood walls...An object caught his eye. He whined and ran curiously over to it.

It was a harmonica. Probably used and left by some other poor slig. A little rusted too. Plus it was on the ground and had probably been in someone's mouth (Ick!). Yet he put his girly standards standards aside due to boredom and picked it up with his organic arm (How he hated having his plastic one sewn on by that controlling doctor. How would he wash his armpit now?). He blew into the wheezing metal and trotted off, making up a tune as he went on.

I haven't really done a roleplay in a while, but i'll try. :D

Name: Known as Whicker, real name unknown

Gender: Male

Species: Mudokon

Alliance: Tree hugger

Rank: None

Age: 28-35, age unknown

Physical Description: Tall and lean, dark green skin w/yellow and white tattoo stripes down his arms and legs, pale eyes, thick leather mask over his entire face w/paramite teeth bordering the sides, black sholder sash w/cape, long, trailing black loincloth w/paramite teeth sewn at the ends, a single black feather is braided into his ponytail, which he dyed black and blue
Equipment: Heavy wooden weapon decorated with bells and red ribbons, its a cross between a battle-axe and a hammer

Biography: Was a scrubb working in Rupture Farms until he was shipped off with 50 other muds to work in a seperate factory. As the heavy caravan transporting them passed through a lush valley they were ambushed by a large, unidentifiable creature with massive smashing fists. It killed the sligs' driving the caravan, crunched the hell out of it, and vanished. Whicker was the only one to survive and wandered for days through the forests and hills, hopelessly lost. He stumbled upon an abandoned mud temple hidden in an ancient cave where he found his hammer-axe and clothing, and made a home out of the building's remains. He learned every secret passage and entrance to the complicated temple's miles of underground tunnels, hunted his own food, vowed to hunt down the monster that killed the 50 innocent muds that traveled with him in the caravan, and has been a little emo inside ever since. C:

(The abandoned temple is a few miles from the fortress, and is extremely well hidden)

D&D: Neutral-good

---

A particularly short scrab with a limp in its left hind leg rooted around in the underbrush, eager for something to satisfy its grumbling belly. It grunted as it pushed through leaves and dirt with its beak-like snout, its small, watery eyes wary and alert. It was unable to hunt due it its injury, and it would make an easy target for Whicker.
The dark mudokon gripped the handle of his hammer-axe, his pale yellow eyes bright with concentration.
Poor beast hasn't even noticed me yet, he thought, blinking sadly. It must be so hungry it can't think straight.
The scrab's head shot up, causing foam to fleck the nearby trees. Its head rotated hungrily and it made small whining noises, begging in his own language for something to eat. Whicker hopped silently forward, careful not to rustle the leaves, and raised his weapon over his head.
BLAM! Gunshot from a slig's rifle rang through the forest, followed closely by voices.
"...this way... I heard something this way!"
Whicker looked up in suprise and ducked into the leaves, holding his weapon close to his chest. The scrab sensed his movement and bounded forward, its head swinging around wildly as it struggled to pinpoint the sound. Whicker could hear sligs clearly now, rummaging around in the forest. What the hell could they want? He wondered, backing up into the foliage. The scrab reared up on its back legs and bolted forward towards the sound of exploring sligs, its jaws dripping and his chest bellowing in a savage roar. Startled voices rang in the air, and gunshot shook the forest to its roots.
With no time to think Whicker ran down the narrow path ahead, ducking to avoid being seen. He could only think of one place he would be safe; the Mudokon Fortress. For now, anyway. He leapt over a mound of gnarled roots and ran onwards, swinging his weapon to clear away low-hanging branches.
Finally he saw the tall trees circling the fortress, and he smiled to himself. He jumped inbetween two of them and shimmied himself deeper into the roots and leaves, panting heavily. The sound of sligs and scrab alike died into the distance. Whicker didn't see it, but deeper in the forest the scrab licked its jaws and dug into the flesh of a freshly-caught baton slig, the corners of its face curled into what was almost a smile.
Whicker sighed and slowed his breathing, still wary of attacks.

OOC:
Uh.....what?

IC:
Palms watched Hobar exit the hut, and followed him out. He split company with the slig and walked down his own path. For a second, he though he heard a strange melody, but than pushed the thought out of his head. This place was to morbid for anyone to play music. Palms did a quick survey of the battlefield. Not much to see. Turning slowly, he looked at a few of the other sligs near the barracks. He saw Hobar talking to a slig with a sniper rifle, and a little battalion of sligs that looked pretty prepared for action. Then, suddenly, the melody came back to him. Palms turned swiftly. Too swiftly. His back gave him a reminder that he wasn't completely healed yet. With a grimis of pain on his face, he looked back towards where the music was coming from. He saw the slig with the plastic arm had a little instrument. Damn that slig. Palms still had some plans for that slig. The anger ebbed away from Palms slowly, and he turned to face the battlefield once more. Corpses littered it. This place was hell.

OOC: I might add another charactor. For now I'm going to wait.
IC: Stumel woke from his nap. Sure he had slept far to long, he rubbed his eyes. He sat up and wandered the camp for a while until his venture led him just outside when a noise caught his ear. A harmonica, not that he knew it was called that. A rather girl-like slig was playing it. It was a wonderful sound, putting Stumel at ease. He slid into a sitting position where he simply listened. So beautiful. How could it be so lovely when nothing else in his world was? His wonderful thoughts were peirced like an arrow. The unmistakeable stench of vomit filled the air. With his rag and water he clensed the spot just so he could listen to the sound in peace. He almost fell asleep with comfort. In his trance, he forgot where he was. All that mattered was that the sound continued. It filled his brain to the brim like a glass of water, and it was as though nothing existed but the music. Drifting off he would like to have said to the slig how that music was so wonderous. He smiled. Not a wicked, twisted smile, but a true smile. Humming along he sat on the hard ground that felt like a cushion with the music drifting around like feathers from a pillow.
OOC: Stumel likes the music.

IC: "I gotta SVD sniper its pretty good gets the job done and all that" Dengar replied what type have you got.

Altair ran after Egamorf.

IC:
Skrishiy had been circling above the fortress and giving surveillance for a long time and after a while he grew bored and his mind began to wonder. because of his daydreaming he was no longer guiding his mount and the circle he was going in gradually became wider and more oval until, without knowing, Shkrishiy flew strait out of the mudokon fortress and directly towards what any slig would have recognised as the slig barracks.

IC: Hobar had gotten his answer and was wondering what an SVD rifle was when he heard him ask about his own. "Let me see." he muttered as he looked under, over and under again for some kind of trademark. At last he found a small print on the barrel. "It's a GL89 rifle. Hang on I think I have a little pad saying some stuff about this rifle." He replied as he began to search everywhere he could store things and finnaly found it in the bottom of his gun holster. Skimming through it, it seemed that the GL89 rifle was quite a normal gun for mid-rank snipers. "It says it's something for middle-rank sligs." He added. "Ah well. Have you seen those expiremental ones at Vkker's labs? They don't have a name but they look nasty and fun." He thought about how much he longed to have one. No other rifle would be better. He would be on top. 'But you can't have everything in life.'
OOC: Nothing from Stumel as he's humming along with music.

Not sure if all of my characters are going to correspond with the rules, want to make another character called Elen, Az's sister, but as a meetle rider, or winged calevry for the tree huggers, would that be ok?

Name: Az

Gender: Genderless (But technically male)

Species (No non-Oddworldians, and keep wildlife to a minimum): Mudokon

Alliance (Tree Huggers [Fortress] or Land Muggers [Barracks]): Land muggers (Or nuetral will explain in my bio)

Rank (In correspondence to Alliance): Was trained as a piolet

Age (In comparison to Human Lifespan): late teens

Physical Description (include both body and clothing, you may provide picture if you wish): Green skinned, but covered with grey, red, crimson and black warpaint, in a simular colour to the mudokon warrior warpaint.
Wears salvaged outlaw armour, made of rusty steel, think of a ned kelly style suit, and a WWII style pilot's helmet, with crimson lenced night visioned googles.

Equipment (what the character carries, other than his/her/its clothing): An old pistol called Maggie, left behind from an outlaw, several vyker stength inhancing drugs, non of them meant for mudokons. Piolts a slig copter, equipted with an unreleiable turret and severale bombs stolen from the flying sligs.
Biography (the characters past): With the gaining tension between the industrailts and local mudokon tribes, the vykers labs 19 called for it's eggs to be brought to the mother ship, however, the cargo was intercepted on the way by meetle raiders, and several of the eggs were taken, including the only other egg in his batch, which would become Elen. As a result, Az was breed up feeling lonely and excluded from the other scrubs, but was trained and cared for by a engerneering slig called Yabbs. This was considered a sign of weakness, but their freindship soon showed, but before they could be descraced, their talents were realised. They rose up the ranks together, Az becoming an ace piolet, and Yabs becoming co piolet, altough he was average at flying, his skills in engernerring and with a turret and gun became a valuable asset.
The pair become one of the most succsessful pair, and so were given their own slig copter.
Az never cared for the industrialists, but Yabbs was as close to a brother as he could be to him, and despite his ambitions to find his sister, was convinced that his people were a misguided cause. Even so, he was determined to save his people from their fate, and bring an end to his fighting, but he had no life outside of the fighting with the industrialists, and he was as good as dead to them, so he was persuaded to become a piolet only, for he could never kill a soul, let alone one of his own people.

Was going to create 3 characters quite a bit ago, but got hit by writer's block, which effected my profile making, so here's one for now.

Name: Yabbs

Gender: Genderless (But technically male)

Species (No non-Oddworldians, and keep wildlife to a minimum): Slig

Alliance (Tree Huggers [Fortress] or Land Muggers [Barracks]): Land muggers

Rank (In correspondence to Alliance): Co-piolet, engineer

Age (In comparison to Human Lifespan): late teens

Physical Description (include both body and clothing, you may provide picture if you wish):
Yellowly green. Wears a matching helmet to Az, like most other sligs, bare chested, but is adorned with tatoos. Wears simular headgear tp flying sligs. Muclely aswell, due to his big bro training (though he was only subjected to stereriods once)

Equipment (what the character carries, other than his/her/its clothing): An average slig gun, equiped with a scope, a sligcopter equipted with an unrealiable turret, parichute, bombs, parichute and a flying slig machine (what ever it's called),
Biography (the characters past): Was born from a war veteran father, and breed in a squadron of elite warrior sligs, he was always a disapointment to his patrol. He was oringanly desinated to become a big bro, and so took part in heavy physical activities, and yet, despite his bulk and agility, but one thing bothered everybody, he was heavily tramitised by his job, and by violence.
His father assumed steriods would kick this instinct out of him, it didn't. So after only minor steriod treatment, he retained the normal look of a slig, however, much more bulkier and faster than an average skill, as his accuracy was undeinable, yet he was still useless according to the Glocken owner, and scedualed to be terminated, but it was his father's influence that kept him alive.
He then became an engineer, but his father's reteirement meant that he had no longer any say in his position, and was declared to be descraced unless he become useful with a gun.
He then encounted a sad mudokon attempting to look in the archives for his true history, they soon become best freinds, and under his influence, the mudokon became an ace piolet, and Yabbs become co-piolet, in charge of everything else, from rallying other troops, turreting, and giving valuable stratagies, something inherted from his father. He promised to not kill Az's people were he could, despite there forced service to what began to look like a war. But under the under the watchful eye of his superiors, he knew it was always going to be hard.

OOC: Srry for doing nothings, I is lazy and consider this thread kinda dead since Sparky said she lost interest...Ah well. I can try.

IC
Egamorf the young selfish mudokon ran, regardless of whenever Altair or Pere were following. He just wanted to get on with with things and go see the industrial place...In truth, he wanted a 'better' place to live. He wasn't too familiar with all of this native stuff. He could still see that towering building inthe distance...

(Industrial Fortress)

Fromage skipped away merrily, blowing a tune he had made into his harmonica. It was all his...Unless it got nicked off him. Some loser slig would have to go through a lot of bslaps before he'd let them get away with it. He walked like a woman with his head held high, before soemthing caught his eye. His infra red mask vision caught sight of a warm-blooded body running...On two legs...Towards the fortress? He growled like a mad chihuahua, screamed like a madwoman and ran towards this figure. An invadar? Who did they think they were? Abe?