Valhalla

[bloodgunsnfun]

WARNING: YOUR CHARACTERS CAN DIE IN THIS ROLE PLAY!!!

Your character dies then goes to an unknown world, the world appears to be similar to medieval times, there are differences, like races and and basic outlining to the world. The world is given the nickname Valhalla by the travelers from "other worlds". Your character has to be considered a warrior. They can be other things but they are a warrior first. The character can be any type of warrior from history that we know of. The world has civilizations and towns but is always at war. Valhalla is the warriors world anyone who has the qualities and has been a warrior enters this dimension upon death. When your character dies 30 minutes prior to there death the get sent to Valhalla with everything they that's theirs in there immediate vicinity. If your character dies and isn't with his/her weapons he/she is still eligible for the transfer. If their weapons are not with them or around them they don't get them on the transfer.

Your characters are considered the enemy to the natives, your character will be killed if given the opportunity. There are few who don't think like this and will take your character in rather then kill them. The natives have slightly pointed ears and eye are random colours this makes them harder to spot. The Lords of the countries understand that your characters are not from this world and cant be trusted.

Name:
Age:
Sex:
Weapons:
Occupation:
Description:
Date of death:

[bloodgunsnfun]

Name: Laura Verchiel
Age: 32
Sex: Female
Weapons: L115A1 sniper rifle, Anzio anti material sniper rifle and case, M1911 custom pistol. two pistol clips, four .338 clips carried on person. (twenty five 20mm rounds in the case and three .308 clips, four 9mm clips in the case) Ghillie suit, Combat knife.
Occupation: Private contractor
Description: Blond hair, green eyes, scar on the left temple to her jaw. 5'8
Date of death: December 15, 2014

Name: Trent Renolds
Age: 49
Sex: Male
Weapons: Claymore, Longbow 30arrows, patchy plate armor
Occupation: Barbarian
Description: Graying brown hair, Hazel eyes, 6'4
Date of death: july 25, 1308

Name: Luke Greeves
Age: 17
Sex: Male
Weapons: Shiv, Remington 870 shot gun rubber bullets 8 rounds
Occupation: Death row inmate
Description: Orange hair, blue eyes, 5'7 tattooed
Date of death: October 30, 1998

[bloodgunsnfun]

Laura calmed her breathing as she aimed at the targets head, her nerves calm collected and ready for anything. Her 'hide' in perfect concealment and her weapon ready. The target a well known south African Militia general. She didn't want to take the job, something was off. The general had no guards, not a single rifle in sight. He's just drinking his tea on the porch of his hut. She squeezes the trigger, her suppressor does its job. His head explodes she sees the familiar puff of red mist and he falls off his chair his cup crashing on the porch. The sound of birds flying away as she waits. {Somethings not right this was easier than the briefing described.} She thinks to herself. The sound of a helicopter in the distance, and trucks roaring towards the house. The trucks arrive then quickly the men hop out of the truck and begin heading in her vicinity. "I've been set up." She whispers to herself. {If they knew I was coming then they know what to look for.....Sh*t....} Her eyes flashing to each man caring assault rifles, M4's, Scars, Type 95's. Weapons they shouldn't be able to get there hands on. {So I've become a loose thread that needs to be burnt off.} She aims at the first mans head squeezes, red mist. Quickly aiming on the next target she fires dropping them before they realize what's happening. Taking seven down then the men all hide behind trees and are firing at random back. The bullets fly over her. She continues to pick them off. The helicopter comes into sight. And begins firing at her location. {They have some heavy backing and financiers.} She pulls her ghillie top off and the top of her hide, then jumps to her Anzio. The men begin their advance again, firing at her. She lays down aiming for the motor and fires. The sound is comparable to thunder and the 20mm round soars through the air crashing into the helicopter's upper cabin just under where she wanted it to hit but it'll do. She pulls the bolt back letting the three round mag do its job. She feels a searing pain in her left shoulder, her hand shoots over to it as she looks. a hole in her shoulder and an exit wound. {Hit the muscle but not the bone.} She turns the barrel towards the asshole who shot her....squeeze... BOOOOM. The person and the area around him gone. The area gets scattered with bullets one hitting her left ankle and one her left forearm. She rolls quickly falling back into her hide she begins to fade then, realizes her situation again she gets up not realizing she actually blacked out for a bit. Then grabs the L115 and gets ready to fire and then realizes the men are already there. "Damnit.." She whispers. She raises the rifle to shoot the man standing above her but only meets a hale of bullets....... She's greeted with darkness and absence of thought. She tries to open her eyes and this time is greeted by a blinding light, she blinks. Quickly looks around seeing her equipment, feeling a pain in her arm she reaches her hand up then sees the blood. The bullet wound still there on her arm not visible due to the ghillie suit. {......... Sh*t.} She quickly draws her M1911 with her right hand and aims at the closest person. {A Man in SWAT uniform.....} Her eyes narrow.

[Raven]

Name: Ryan Villein
Age: 28
Sex: Male
Weapons: A revolver and a pistol, a pocket knife, and his /body/. 70 rounds. 10 is for the revolver.
Occupation: Gangster
Description: Strawberry blond hair, violet eyes. 5'10". Has a few tattoos - not many, and not extremely obvious.
Date of death: November 3rd, 2012


Name: Francis Foster
Age: 17
Sex: Male
Weapons: Wooden stakes (2), cross-shaped knives (3), cross bow (30 bolts). Holy water, garlic, mirrors?
Occupation: Vampire hunter
Description: Black hair, pale, pale grey eyes, 5'8", has a lot of scars.
Date of death: April 9th, 1212.

Name: Kumair Penn
Age: 21
Sex: male
Weapons:
Occupation:
Description: black hair,
Date of death: 5th January, 2463

[Raven]

The revolver cylinder spun and he watched it, even though it was pointless for him to do so. Even watching it spin, he could never know which bullet would be the real one. Most of the slots were merely empty, there would be a tense moment, the pulling of a trigger, and a click, but some had blanks - to keep them on their toes - and one had a real bullet. This wasn't the kind of game he usually played - if he did, he doubted he would have made it to twenty-eight.

He put the cylinder back in place.

He had to play it now. This was bigger than him. The man he would have once called his uncle with fondness in his voice smirked as he watched him, even though he had flipped the hell out ten seconds earlier at the blam of a blank when the gun was aimed at his head. This game decided everything. It decided who would rule the city, who would get Lizabeth... and who would be dead.

He pulled the hammer back.

He wondered if whoever got the bullet would realize just before they were gone forever that they had lost. He hoped the bastard did. He hoped that Thane Chaze would bite the bullet, and he would realize that he had lost everything, especially his daughter. Hate boiled inside of Ryan. He hoped the old man's life flashed before his eyes, and he hoped he realized everything he'd done.

He pulled the trigger.

BLAM. That was the second blank. Now there was just the real bullet left.

Only there wasn't, and it wasn't. Blood splattered the walls as he fell to the floor of the room where they'd been doing it. Now all he could hope was that Thane finally got pinned for his murder. But it was an obvious suicide. He should have made Thane do it, at least He couldn't stand the idea of Chaze just moving on with life, brushing him away as little more than a pest. How dare he?

White light filtered through his eyelids, and he opened his eyes. It had been a dream, he'd won, and this had been nothing more than a dream. But when he woke up, he was in a white area, so near a fountain he could feel the spray of it. He'd never seen such a place, and he knew LA pretty damn well. So where the hell was he?

[Crymzun]

Name: Idris Akil Al Veroncia
Age: 22
Sex: Male
Weapons: Scimitar, 22 Throwing Knives, Pouch of Rosary peas (another pouch in powder form), 8 inch long blade dagger,
Occupation: Assassin
Description: Black hair that reaches to about mid forehead. Silver eyes, a light skin tone similar to Italian but dark enough to show his half Arabic descent. 5'10
Date of death: October 14th 1529

Name: Quinn Oliver Clark
Age: 21
Sex: Frequently
Weapons: Savage 110 BA, 2 magazines (five bullets per mag) of 338 lapua mag bullets, 3 Magazines of 300 Win mag. Standard M1911A1 pistol 3 magazines (7 bullets per mag.) Bullet proof Vest, Combat Knife
Occupation: Captain Rank in Special Weapons And Tactics
Description: Short brown hair, Blue eyes, White, In standard Special Sniper Operations attire. 6'1
Date of death: May 22nd 2014

[bloodgunsnfun]

Trent looks up from the ground, mud covering his face. His only thought survive this, the whole war, don't die, fight and survive. He swing his claymore taking of his opponents head, he moves on to the next one. Looking at the heavy Calvary coming in. {To think I was planning on retiring tomorrow.} Lunging forward aiming for the horses weak points in its armour. Cutting its head off. Then turns to face to rider falling off then sees his men getting over run by the Calvary. He reaches out pulling his son out of the way of a horse about stomp him into the ground. The rider thrusts a spear into Trents chest, he turns taking the blow and protecting his son. He grabs the spear and turns lifting the rider off and pulls the spear out. He slams his sword into the riders chest. "Ruuun!!" He yells to his son. Three spears go through his body as he falls onto his face.... White light creaping past his eyelids, he opens his eyes to see a fountain, and a white room.

[bloodgunsnfun]

Luke sits on his 6'2 dead cellmates body, lighting a smoke. "Well the boys in blue ain't gunna like this." his Irish accent thick. He waits tapping his foot on the bar of the cell. The inmates rioting on the other side of the cell door. He listens to the do to the cell block open and hears the click of the tear gas grenades being pulled, and lobbed into the cell block.. "Time to work, huh." He puts the cigarette the dead cellmates hand, flips him over taking his shirt and wrapping it around his own head.

(Gun shots, Rubber bullets.)

The cell door cracked just slightly, he pulls the dead body over top himself. The guards passing by zip tying there hands behind there back. "Hey, we have a casualty over here." One of the guards to the other. "No chances, tie him." The other responds. The door opens he walks over holding the Remington towards the body, reaching behind himself grabbing zip ties from his belt. Leaning down flipping the body over, Luke reaching from under the large dead body grabbing the gun and thrusts the shiv into his neck, turning his wrist and pulls. The guard falls back against the wall holding his neck. Luke puts the shiv into his sock, grabs the shotgun and crouches over quickly grabbing the extra 6 rounds off the guards vest shoving them into his pocket. He taps the guard on the shoulder. "Hold on I'll get help." He runs out of the cell firing at the guard standing in his way of the door. Sliding through the door, into the court yard and runs to the fence hole he made the day before. crawls through towards the next fence grabbing the pliers next to the hole. And starts cutting the next fence.

(Hearing a shot.)

Pain in his leg, he falls trying to still cut the fence sliding out. The taste of freedom right there. He limps to his feet. Another shot he fall to his knees. "F*ck me...." He coughs up blood, rolling to his back. He closes his eyes {Just gunna take a nap....} He feels cold and like he's floating. He sits up looking around, water all around him. He lifts his hand moving the water, confused.... He sees people standing around in the white room. looks at the fountain that is spraying over top him. Standing up out of it. "The hell is going on?"

[Crymzun]

"Idris your contact has hired two more other people to assist you on this mission"
The grey robed figure shifted his position to look at his informer. His silver eyes mimicked the beams of light provided by the full moon. "Was the message that i work alone delayed? Or does he think this will just be ignored?"
"He wanted me to give his apology on the matter as well.. however he is going to triple his asking price."
"Triple it? Alright, rather odd for last minute changes. When and where do i meet up with them?"
"The location is yet to be confirmed bu-"
"Yet to be confirmed? i leave tomorrow"
"Yes, the high risk nature of the job calls for such safe precautions. But, back to the matter at hand the meeting place will be Salzburg, Austria"
"That's a little out of the way is it not?"
"Yes that is why Transportation is being provided... tonight, 2 hours from now at the front gate."
"I'm starting to get uneasy from all these last minute changes. Thank you, you'll be paid when i return."
" *if* you return my friend."
Idris simply ignores the comment and hops off the porch two stories up. He lands with a roll and prepares for his departure... He walked into the pub in Salzburg and sat down at a table with two other individuals hiding in the corner table. With a quick discussion and a small meal they systematically left and regrouped outside the city, heading out towards Vienna. Idris ignored the other two completely and they didn't really talk much anyways, even to each-other. They reached Vienna and snuck past the Ottoman empire soldiers into the city. They waited three days until the scheduled time. Idris looked down from the walls of Vienna out at the opposing army "target Pargali Ibrahim Pasha confirmed" he looked at his other two accomplices and he scaled down the outer skirts of the wall running towards the target, Idris drew his Scimitar readying to slit the high ranking leaders throat when he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. He reached towards it thinking it was an arrow and found a dart instead. He looked behind him meeting his 'comrades' eyes and watched as he lowered a blow gun. His vision began to blur and his muscles went weak. His partner turned around. Idris drew a throwing knife off muscle memory and watched it leave his hand, and soar through the air, Off target but hitting his mark. The throat of his partner almost exploded in liquid and he watched his partner fall first. Idris had his world rotating around him, and he kept marching towards the head of Pargali. He fell to his knees and stumbled trying to regain balance. Many soldiers stood around him and had their swords drawn, wanting to be remembered as the ones to kill the infamous Venician Assassin. He felt the blades pierce his chest, arms and legs and travel through his vital organs. The pain was numbed from the drug as he watched himself bleed out. He fell backwards staring at the sky and watched a raven take flight. He moved his eyes to the face of his target and received a boot in response. It went dark, darker than the Ravens feathers he was just staring at. Then it was bright, Not just bright but White, gleaming "Is this.. the afterlife?" he found himself muttering that among other things. He looked at his arms and legs and no longer torn robes confused. He stood up having his balance and finesse back and looked around the room at the other strangely dressed individuals. Backing himself up, getting out of main sightlines trying to figure out exactly what was going on.