Role play Live : Group : The Carrendar Dynasty

Lorewall 2E Time Line.

Rocket man.


Carrendar (CharlotteCarrendar)

TonberryShuffle -==- As limited as his knowledge may have been of events while he was semi-comfortably tucked away onboard the steampunk TARDIS he still knew enough to be wary of the impending explosion of some kind. Not that he’d tell anyone else of course; the mention of ‘fireworks’ being the extent of it all before the whole conversation and chain of events had moved onward. The cop of course getting terrified one way or another whether from MERCY’s demonstration of her dangly bits (hah!) or from Kyle’s overly exuberant desire to get into the cop’s pants. Which the explosion was perfect cover for.

The first chance he got and the fleeing cop was his. Kyle’s physical limits far exceeding those of the bare-bones human and in virtually the blink of an eye the man was overtaken. Not only that but he would have been grabbed by the scruff of his neck and hefted as if he weighed nothing at all before Kyle just as effortlessly half-carried-half-drug the man to the far side of the explosion and disintegrating building in the same short sprint.

Even with the cop in hand once on the other side he did take a momentary reprieve to admire the destruction. His eyes getting wide and a glassy sheen spread across them once again like a kid on christmas morning. Sheer delight filling him from head to toe. “Awesome….” The cop of course was bitching, screaming, and futily struggling to break free all the while.

Finally with a shrug Kyle’s hand forcefully came down into the cop’s gut. Through his shirt, through even anybody armour he may have been wearing (they do where I live), and past his squishy flesh. From his embedded hand branched outward sections of his own body. Dark gun metal gray limbs that could only be described as root-like. They interwove with the bones and muscles and invaded blood vessels and his nervous system. Even before his own eyes the cop would begin to disintegrate himself as his very being was getting devoured from the inside out. A process of course that Kyle had made as painless as possible by intercepting every single nerve signal he could while transmitting those of pure ecstasy.

The whole process would have taken a while and for Kyle to don the pants even seconds longer. By the time he was finished Kyle was left standing there bare foot, free balling, and with the towel tied around his neck like a cheap super hero’s cape. Eyes scanning into the dust and debris for what was left of the fight.


Carrendar: – M.E.R.C.Y had forgotten the arrival of Kyle for now, taken up instead by the one to cause the collapse of the building, just moments before. Speaking to her with a sense of bravado, and paying compliments, which had no real effects on the cyborg due to her lack of emotions, the cyborg continued her cross legged pacing, guns trained upon the being, who was able to avoid the eye dart she had launched from her eye socket. “Your tendrils… Data extraction statical limbs, correct? I must say, for a female to carry such things is a beautiful sight indeed.” Spartan quizzed M.E.R.C.Y, with intent to possibly distract her from her game. The very tendril like cables swam about the air behind her, like writing sea snakes, all menacing and designed to kill, or extract data.

“Very..perceptivez…Comrade. Now…either youz goingz do attack…again. Or dake me out for drinkz…no?” The Russian cyborg purred, her trigger fingers twitching, as she turned her wrists, so the back of her hands were facing up, the guns now side on. If anything, the cyborg was damn sexy.(Yes..yes she is) Parading before the newcomer, with no hint of fear whatsoever. As he was taking in internal readouts of her form, she was doing the same. Stream lines of data was flashing over her left eye, with everything from his basic physical statistics, to heat signals, and a search for metals on his body, possible hidden weapons, he had on his person.

It was turning into a standoff, but would Kyle, who managed to get into the policeman’s pants, make this into a mexican affair? Si?


Subsequently, Spartan was amazed with the female cyborgs well plotted movements. So feminine and refined like a cats, yet dangerous and ready to kick off for the kill. Strange thing females are. One could say they are literally more machine than anything else. Such a turn on it was to see a female machine orchestrating the kill in the depths of her mind for him, but he knew this was for keeps. He should be paying more attention to the streams of data scrolling across his optics HUD instead of peering through it at her, but damn it was intoxicating at on a binary level for him. Whelp, it was until the Russian purr kick his ass out of the fantasies “Very..perceptivez…Comrade.  Now…either youz goingz do attack…again.  Or dake me out for drinkz…no?” Voice of a Russian scarlet, the movements of a well practices escort, and the murderous intent of a black widow… God damn it all to the junk yard. What else could he ask for.
Thankfully, with his vocal possessors still intact, luckily not severed by the Russian scarlet widows claws, perse. He gave a cock of his head to the left and smiled whilst keeping attention on her… lower extremities. A chassis like a farrier and the attitude to match, but nevertheless he’d have to keep her stalled and hold out long enough for the 1024bit RSA encrypted message transmission to reach his flight tech and armor components. If all was to go well, he’d be jetting around shortly in a few minutes… minutes that could turn into a DDoS (distributed denial-of-service attack (DDoS attack) due to some heavy weapons, or even the blasted cyber tech tendrils she was so happily wielding. Mercy… More like Callous and Cold.. In an attempt to keep the conversation up he returned his attentions to her and smirked as he spoke. “Heckler & Koch MK23… And twins at that too! Talk about scandalous.” In the recesses of his processors he kept debating about getting one of cigars out to give her, maybe they could share? No… She’s a killer not a lover.
Just in time… His words were doing as they needed too do to keep her stalled and to break his thoughts away from the smoke he so dearly wanted. — Flight Tech and Armor Components: 45 seconds out.— Flashed across the optics HUD of his left cybernetic eye. Better late than never, he thought but, he really needed to reprogram it to give a fucking response to his singles “I know you’re picking up on the in bound projectiles but, don’t worry your pretty little processors… They won’t even touch you” Spartan he relayed the message in a binary coded transmission to her, leaving it open for all to decode it they wished too. But it wouldn’t matter, his F.T.A.C was already en-route. With a thruster pack being the means of transportation for: two cylindrical arm sleeve armaments forged from titanium and coated in ceramic with one carrying a single 750ml bottle of Хреновуха (Brand of Russian vodka.), upon the top of the thruster pack set magnetized in place, one of the heavy engagement version of Spartans Reverence 1070 Busters along with two .50 caliber 6 shot revolvers holstered via belt off to the right side, blaring into sight. “It would seem as if your readouts misinformed you, young machine.”
“I’m not just going to be sent to the scrap heap without a fight… ” He growled as his left foot inched forward.<E>


Tonberry Shuffle -==- Kyle stood there as a spectator more than an active participant up until now. He was clearly within range and was at a distance where he couldn’t even be misconstrued as some passerby. He was there for the ride. Spartan’s words were sinking in as well as the conversation pieces from Natasha–whose moniker of MERCY he still did not known– urging him on. He couldn’t just let this one go as it was.

Both of his hands shot upward with palms facing either of them. The wrists twisting slightly to draw attention. “Whoa, hold the phone right fucking there. You’re treating this way too much like some yes or no, black or white, right or wrong nonsense. We can’t be having any of that. This is clearly a ‘cake and eat it too’ situation. So, why do you have to fight OR drink? I always prefered ‘and’ myself.”

Kyle’s position changed just enough to side step towards what was left of the Cop’s outfit. His hand shuffling through it as he crouched with his eyes still angled towards the two of them. “We can even make a drinking game out of this one. We even have options on the kind of shots we take.” A devious grin as Kyle freed a magazine from the officer’s belt; the weapon it belonged to long gone of course.


Carrendar: – “If I ztill drank….it vould be dhe vodka…Comrade.” The cyborg retorted, a devilish grin appearing upon her face. Clearly, she had been to hell and back before even arriving in Lorewall, for the skin on her face in places, was peeled back, and she was showing parts of her exoskeleton beneath. Both guns still aimed squarely at the being’s chest, but then the cyborg’s head ticked sharply. (M.E.R.C.Y)- Operating system – target stalling in communications.- radar…detecting. incoming objects. Projectory..5..7..9. warning systems engaged.- The cyborg took a step back, and then raised her head skyward, where the faint outline of projectiles hurtling down was caught on her eye scope. The cyborg’s head lowered again to her combatant, just as Kyle was entering the picture.

” This is clearly a ‘cake and eat it too’ situation. So, why do you have to fight OR drink? I always prefered ‘and’ myself.”

Hearing Kyle coming up behind her, she shot a look over her shoulder and shouted angrily in russian.

(Russian translation: “Get out of the way!”)

The cyborg then whipped her head back around, and started to open fire upon the being before her, both revolvers releasing multiple rounds of bullets to his chest. If he was the cause of this, he was going to be taken down before whatever was coming hit the planet.


“Shame for you, you’ve activated m…” Cut off in a blaze of point black gun fire, and with every metal jacketed round striking its target. No human, or cyborg would stand tall against something of destructive force without he right armor or build. Now it was time for Spartan to put on a show. With ever round ramming into hit chest, a step back was taken till the amount of shock had done some actual damage. After about 5 shot from each, the rounds had pierced his metallic skin and forced its way in, but was halted by a secondary layer of carbon fiber skin But the force couldn’t be canceled out as the rounds kept coming and he fell back flat against the pavement with optics flickering an iridescent red before cutting out indefinitely….
Fleet Commander Jackson, Who’d been         watching via optics up link transmitted from Spartan… Dropped to         his knees. Not once did it ever cross his mind, his “son” would         die so quickly. Hell, from the reports he had went over from         Spartans old missions, this should have been a walk in the park…
Was it true what head quarters had         stated? Was Spartan really out of date? Was he at a disadvantage         technologically? “By Reverences name… Spartan..Why? Was this how         you wanted it?” Shock had flooded through the Fleet Commander as         he stared down at the cherry wood flooring in the command deck…
In the deepest recesses of his processors, Spartan was enjoying the view being build from his radar and other sensory units housed in his chest. “What a drag…” The slumbering titan thought. “Only a few seconds longer and I would be dead…” On the outside where Mercy stood looking down at him, his F.T.A.C was arriving just as scheduled. – F.T.A.C- Systems nominal, commencing engagement processing- the line of binary that ran through his CPU had translated. With a whirl of his internal gears and mechanical fluids rushing into over drive, the iridescent red glow of his optics returned followed with him hacking up a silver fluid that dribbled over the brim of his lips.“M.E.R.C.Y, you are a killer at nature and programmed with much more than you are giving off. Now let me show you more than you see through those streaming eyes of yours.”
It’s devoid of words. A machine is that of a machine… In most case but, that analogy hardly applied applied to Spartan, he was more human than anything at time. The will to fight, the drive to improve, and the emotions he was prone too. Something about him was abnormal and it was the key factor in allowing this unit to survive for so long. With the gears winding, and his mechanical joints creaking, he shifted upwards and extend his right hand out, as if asking mercy for a hand up… But it was just a ploy.
Not a moment too late they were… Clanking and clinging, the sounds of wires and hoses rushing out from his internal supports, arm sleeve armaments forged from titanium and coated in ceramic sliding down his arms and locking in to place. The metallic belt the held his .50 caliber revolvers wrapping around his waist, and the thruster pack with it’s magnetic hold on the Heavy Engagment Reverance 1070 Buster fussing into his back and locking into place on the back of his ribs in spine, only to root themselves into his central cybernetic nervous system. The power armor was locking into engagement mode and activating a priority protocol and forcing sleeping equipment to surface and the main attachment being a red holographic read out appearing over his right eye, a new facial appearance had been taken on the right side of his head. More tubes and wires with a patch like metal housing covering it and his right eye, with the center of the read out noting visible and revealing a high speed camera.
With out any more hesitation, the thrusters ignited, lifting him back onto his feet with a single 360 degree rotation. “Ну, привет … Sexy … “ (Russian::Well, hello there… Sexy..) Menacing new tone had been adopted in this form, his vocal processor being sent signals to become more threatening. “Come now…” he roared as his thrusters flared and the hoses that ran over his body began to glow cherry red from the instant warm up being ran. As he settled, he presented the bottle of vodka brought with the  F.T.A.C unit. “But first… A drink..”<E>



TonberryShuffle -==- Kyle was now at a loss. While one method of communication used by the duo in the form of transmissions in various wavelengths of the electromagnetic spectrum–even using the binary language– he could understand. Even as peculiar and as impressive as that may have been for him he still lost out on entire sections of the conversation thanks to the switch to Russian.

Even with MERCY’s body language Kyle didn’t get excited at whatever prompted her to attack. A slight tilt in his head and he peered upward then back to the male that she had initiated combat with once again. Barrel’s flashing as super heated gasses and still burning powder escaped their lengths. The sound of the miniature explosions, the resonance felt against his skin, all sensations he had been without for far too long.

His breath caught–even if he really didn’t need to breath– when the ejected equipment had made it to their destination. The armor plates and new bits of armor latching onto Spartan and for once Kyle wasn’t caught with his jaw hitting the ground. His right hand just moved with its palm facing upward in something of a questioning gesture. “So no drinks..?”

Before an answer could be acquired in a language he understood he was already walking away and towards the nearest -intact- car still left on the road. Whatever its make or model the civilian vehicle would have still be subject to his machinations. His body lowering into a crouch and fingers grasping just beneath the edge below the door on either the frame or the frame rail. His whole body moving and just like that he’d flip the whole thing onto it’s side so its undercarriage was facing him. Whatever the hell he had in mind now was left to the imagination.


Carrendar: –  Bullets whistled from the smoking barrels of M.E.R.C.Y’s twin MK32’s and found purchase into the chest of Spartan; each bullet’s impact sent him back step by step, till he fell down.  M.E.R.C.Y’s body bore the kick back of the guns, with both feet firmly planted, but the strain barely visible to the naked eye.  The cyborg’s facial expression altered from one of determination, to that of curiosity, when the target not only took the shots at point blank range, but survived them as well.  No blood, no torn skin.  The bullets should have gone straight through the man, but clearly, by his reaction, he was no human.  M.E.R.C.Y’s chest rose and fell with her artificial breathing reflexes activated, as she slowly lowered her arms, and with a flick of fingers, the spent magazines slid out from their holders onto the ground.  So…weapons of men had no effect upon the being before her.  M.E.R.C.Y simply re-holstered her firearms, with an audible grunt passing through her lips.

“Let me ask you something… Does a Machine like yourself ever experience…..fear?”

“Fearz..comez from lack of knowledge….Comrade.”  Again with the rich Russian accent, the cyborg answered Spartan with logic, since M.E.R.C.Y was capable of holding a great deal of information, gathered from sources easily obtainable online and from previous programs installed in her, when she was created.  Spartan continued his propaganda of prowess, as the rest of his armaments was hurtling from a ship high above.  The cyborg’s head twitched to the right, then up, as the incoming projectiles closed their distance, right as Spartan let her have it verbally.

“M.E.R.C.Y, you are a killer at nature and programmed with much more than you are giving off. Now let me show you more than you see through those streaming eyes of yours.”

His outstretched left hand, gesturing for her to help him up, was nothing short of a sham, for the moment his fingers widened, the body armour segments all started to clamp onto his form, and each part slid and locked into place with its counterpart.  Piece by piece, second by second, Spartan was becoming a cybernetic giant, with twin cylinders attaching to his arms, and the backpack directing onto his back.  Making a move at this point, was futile, with Kyle in the background, spouting off.  With weaponry consisting of .50 calibre six shot revolvers, that were hoisted on his right hip, by way of a metallic belt wrapped around his waist, it was joined by a second buster blade, that hung vertically in the centre of the new thrusters unit on his back.  Hoses and wires all acted to attatch and complete the building process of the armoured cyborg.

With a new tone to his voice, Spartan again tried on with the charm, speaking in her native tongue, and calling her of all things; Sexy.  Roaring at her to “Come and…have a drink.”  The cyborg went on the offensive immediately; with a quick one two step, and then a hearty forward right legged kick, that was aimed to strike him right between his legs.  The cyborg let out a war like cry; putting effort into blowing him backward enough to gain herself the space and time, to go on another counter offensive.  M.E.R.C.Y was on the ball. <3>


Disappointment settled in as she nailed him between the legs with a deafening clang. “More machine…Than man at times, Ma’am.” He rebuked towards her kick as he clamped his legs. “Emp, fire.” (Elector magnetic pulse)  within the confines of his chest, a whirl was being generated, followed by click. Suddenly, the thrusters of  F.T.A.C ignited and pushed them upwards, his optics set upon her and his face stern as they both rushed upwards into the sky. His internal read out running upwards. – elevation: 482 M– And it kept rising. Though she was dangling from between his legs, his left hand released the bottle and reached down to hoist her into his arms. “Your humanity… it’s been suppressed and even seemingly lost… a beauty it would have been If you would have retained it..”
Again he sighed knowing what it could do to this piece of art he was hefting into the skies. Spartan didn’t want to destroy such a thing, but it was truly incapable of humanity. Nothing but destruction it craved. Nothing but blood it wanted. As they both raced upwards, Spartan looked down upon her and reached up to pull her into his arms only to redirect his attention skyward. “Why does something as beautiful as you have to be so damn dangerous. Your like a black widow…. Beautiful to look at, deadly to touch.”  He said to himself aloud.
Machines don’t shed tears.. Do they? Sometimes, Spartan was more human than machine. From the corner of his left optic, a grouping of nanobots formed and ripped away, only to be followed by a light reflecting trail as they rockets upwards. —- 2414 Meters—- The elevation read out scrolled out. As he’d reached his destination in the atmosphere, he released her hesitantly… No normal cyborg would usually survive a fall from this distance, especially once rocked with an EMP. “I’m sorry but, I can’t let a murderous machine without emotion run rampant…”
He watched as the female began to drop… Machine.. Man… both are prone to error, and both given the right circumstance can show emotion but, now spartan was standing by and watching as Mercy dropped… What was his next course of action? With his death hawk wavering in the air rushing him, Spartan took held his look upon Mercy and sighed. They’d rushed mile and half upwards into the sky, and he feared she may not survive this.. or was it that he knew deep down he’d rush after he to keep such a fate from falling upon her?