The Wren: Semi-lit All Species Assassin RP. Accepting

[Derelict Draught]

Real full name: Marcus Malberry
Alias/nickname: Stalker
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Species: Human
Physical appearance: A young man with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He is about 5'11" and has a lanky build to himself.
Personality: Only a recent addition to the Wren. He is a failed lady's man and is often found to be a nuisance to members of the opposite gender as well as those of his own. Despite his frequent and highly annoying courtship attempts, he is a loyal comrade and, secretly, a kind heart.
Special skills: He is an excellent scout, often noticing minor details that others would miss and incorporating them into an operations successful completion. His personality combined with his training and studies of psychology has turned him into an exceptional distraction when required. Finally, in his many hours of failed attempts to impress others, he has logged an excessive number of hours at the firing range, either attempting to impress the ladies or simply trying to laugh off his latest failed attempt. As a result, his bolt action rifle rivals many more elaborate weapons wielded by the nonhuman personnel.
Rank: Surveillance operatives
Weapons: Macmillan TAC 308A
History: Malberry enlisted with the armed forces the day that he turned 18. During the year and a half that he served, he qualified for advanced training in marksmanship. During his first mission after his training was completed, his squad vehicle was hit by an IED. Surviving the blast, he was taken into custody and resisted his captors' attempts at interrogation, ultimately escaping from imprisonment. For several months, he survived off the radar and eventually was discovered deep within hostile territory. Returning home, he found a message leading him to an ice cream parlor.
Other:[/quote]

[Mystic]

Chanae sipped her hot chocolate in delight as she slinked into the empty library, a crackling fire ablaze in the fire-place. She sighed in content as she hurried towards the red, plush loveseat resting infront of the orange glow of the fire, climbing onto it without hesitation. She propped her legs up onto the cushions, snuggling into the soft love-seat, her head tilted to the side as she started to think.
"Mmmm..." Her eyes drooped in bliss, slightly humming to herself as she took another quick sip of the hot chocolate.

She glanced around the musty library, at the old bookshelves that were built into the walls, the dim litted lamps next to large, comfy recliners. The walls weren't completely built in bookshelves. There was acouple wide expanse of reddish-brown wall around the library, with beautiful paintings of meadows and other countries, lit up by the welcoming fire. Her eyes wandered down to the floor that was covered by a large shaggy red carpet. It was a very soft carpet, that was one of the reasons she loved this particular library.
She looked at the wooden coffee table infront of her, taking a long drink of her hot chocolate before setting it down.

She was tired, too tired to get up and go back to her room. Besides, her room didn't have a fire, and her heater was busted.
Mmm... I'll just have a quick cat nap, nobody would mind. She thought to herself, lazily sliding off the love-seat and dumping herself onto the soft shag carpet, getting as close to the fire as she could. She took off her now irritating jacket, throwing it beside her as she looked around, her head twisting to look back at the old oak door. Her icy blue eyes scanned around some more. She knew she was being paranoid, but The Wren had taught her to keep a look out before you let your guard down.

She pursed her soft lips in concentration, her nose slightly scrunching as she closed her eyes, a slight glittering light burning through her eyelids. Her body started to contort, her bones shifting and reshaping as her human form started to shift. She got smaller, her skin sprouting fur. Before she knew it, she was a fluffy grey cat.

Her feline eyes studied the room, arching her back and stretching her legs. As soon as she had come to a decission that no one had seen her, she curled into a grey, fluffy ball, her tail wrapping around one of her legs as she rested her head on her front paws, her icy blue eyes closing to welcome the sweet refreshment of sleep.

[Verdana]

[civilian-bait: Accepted! I'll put you up.

Erica: When we have more members, I'll be running a competition for those who want the job.

Moonflit: Is she currently in the Wren? I'm a bit confused. I will post now ^^]

[Mystic]

(Oh, yeah sorry, I'll mention it in my next post when I wake up)

[blue_dun]

Kasper pushed open the doors to the excercise room/gym and stopped for a second to consider what to do first. Virtually everything would improve his skills... Maybe another day of weight-lifting?
But then for some reason he suddenly remembered that the day before someone had told him to work on his lower-body strength. And when he thought about it, he realized that he had been at the bench a lot lately.
He ran a few laps around the gym and did some stretches to get his aluminum/titanium muscles warmed up, and then hopped on over to the leg curls machine. Turning the PSI pressure down in the hydraulics from an unusually high level to one more manageable, he sat down, and putting his black weight-lifters' gloves on, admired them for a second before gripping the handles on both sides of the seat and beginning to pump away.

[incompleteicarus]

Rayven pulled out the switchblade, mahogany handle inlaid with gold. Beautiful piece of work, although she wouldn't have been allowed to keep it if any of the higher ups found it.
Sooner or later she'd have to get to classes but before that she needed to sleep... or did she? Perhaps a while in the gym would do wonders for her energy levels. She walked around the kitchen and found some chocolate. Close enough to real food. She'd go up to the ice cream parlour if she wanted some more food. A hot chocolate would be nice. Or a fudge ice cream. Her stomach rumbled.
She snapped the chocolate bar in half and in half again. She placed two squares of chocolate into her mouth as she walked out of the kitchen. The soft chocolate melted. Rayven enjoyed the taste. She wandered through the corridors placing the squares of chocolate on her tongue.

[Verdana]

[It's okay ^^]

Bree did not have a noteworthy sense of smell. Her mother could address people by name without having to see them, because, she claimed, every person smelled slightly different. She could also smell tinned peaches from practically across the city. Why her mother had such an obsession with the things, Bree thought she'd never know. Nonetheless, she envied the ability. There was no doubt about it, Shaygrin's sense of smell was near miraculous. Bree did not have any such abilities, and was rather thankful for this most of the time. Being constantly bombarded with so many smells might drive her insane. However, there was one awful stench that never failed to get her pulse throbbing, never left her hackles settled. It unfailingly drove her up the wall.

That smell was cigarette smoke, and it was wafting down the passage to smack her right in the face.

Bree hated few things more than cigarette smoke. With chronic bronchitis at the best of times, cigarettes were guaranteed like nothing else to set her coughing and choking. Combined with the fact that they were dreadfully unhealthy and smelled dreadful, their presence seemed like a waste of space. To think that one of her allies would do such a thing completely wiped away her cheerful mood. The fact that it was gone made her fury even more pronounced. Her step became lighter, but in a rather predatory fashion that did little to soothe the observer. Her amber eyes narrowed into slits of disgust. As she got closer to the source of the stench, her eyes began to itch and her breath to hitch. She turned a corner with silent grace and the picture was complete.

She should have known it would be him.

Livid, she stormed over on silent lightning feet, hand outstretched for the offending object, still smouldering between the young man's two fingers.

Put it out, she snarled.

Right now!

.....

Ty had travelled the path from his workshop to the kitchen so often that his feet traced it without his conscious thought. Anticipation of food made him grin. He didn't resist eating because he didn't enjoy it. On the contrary, Ty loved food with a passion. However, he had a tendency to get so caught up in what he was doing that he wouldn't realise he was hungry for days. He made up for this by eating like a glutton whenever he remembered. Ty's sandwiches were works of art. Or, if you had a less optimistic mindset than he did, monstrosities that would lead to acute indigestion, if not something more severe, when consumed.

However, Ty decided that he would make an omelet. This was scarcely any better. One would think that there would be a limited amount of things that somebody could do to eggs.

They would be wrong.

As Ty strolled down the corridor, looking like a charred, still-smouldering creature out of a medieval battle tale, he began to sing tunelessly to himself in a rich baritone. The 'lyrics' of this self-composed song were whatever sounds he thought sounded quite nice in the moment. He closed his eyes as he worked through his little ditty. His feet knew the way to his destination, after all.

Ta-rumpity bumpity trrrrrum! Limb-squim squib, daa da da pumprum, liddily did, biddily tiddily bleep...

He noticed the faint scent of chocolate on the air. However, that didn't stop him walking straight into the source of the smell. The collision did the smaller person far more damage than it did him. He looked down with newly-opened eyes, a look of helpless, horrified guilt written all over his imposing face.

I'm terribly sorry, my eyes were closed. Are you alright?

[incompleteicarus]

Rayven walked into a large man. His booming voice filled her ears, she looked up. He was... steaming? He was wearing faded cargo pants, covered by rust and grime, a vest top that was almost grey and fluffy ...Hello Kitty slippers? Her eyes ran up towards his face. He looked extremely guilty behind his black hair and stubbly beard. What kind of man was he?
"It's okay, I should have been looking where I was going." She mumbled. "Sorry."
She slipped the last off her chocolate bar into her pocket and stepped out of his way. She felt her sword sheaths pressing against the wall. Her sleeveless shirt exposed her wiry muscles. She felt like a slither of nothing compared to this broad, tall man.

[blue_dun]

Joel had heard that voice, in that tone, so many times before, it almost sounded friendly now. Smirking, he took one last puff. "Yes, Maam." His first words of the day came early. Usually he wouldn't need to speak. But, Bree had caught him smoking in the corridor, again. He knew how much it annoyed her. And it always required at least two words to resolve the matter.
He snuffed it out against the floor and straightened up to go throw it away. Not like this smoke was a disappointing one. It was almost gone anyway. And he had another pack in the pocket of his black jeans shorts.

[Noel]

Ah, I’m so bored~ Riku thought to himself, glancing around at everyone else; all of whom were hustling around for one reason or another. He himself hadn’t been asked to do much lately; probably given how badly he had messed up last time he was sent to kill. He had successfully terminated the mark, but was noticed while leaving. Though sheer bad luck, a bullet had lodged in a rather vital circuit, and his system had completely shut down. He probably would never have woken; but fortunately, a curious passerby had examined the fallen cyborg, and accidently rebooted the system. Riku was gone within a minute after that. His various superiors were not pleased.

And therefore, Riku was bored out of his mind. It seemed that he was among very few who were almost always good-humored, most gave him a curious and somewhat displeased and surprised glances. Inwardly, he laughed, but he couldn’t break through the stoic demeanor that plagued them, not matter how annoyed he got them at his various attempts. Honestly, he couldn’t wait until something made events stir, maybe a bomb or something of the like, so everyday didn’t remain so uninteresting.