Of Honor and Demons

Community General Discussion
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Chapter One.

Several centuries ago, people used to tell crazy tales of little aliens in saucers that would come down and take you away… Who knew that the stories were actually true, or that even though they be human, they actually would be even more alien then you could ever imagine…

It all happened so fast, in a flash they showed up, shot my parents and snatched me away, all before we could even say a word. Soon I was drugged, and whisked-away to god-knows-where, only to wake up in a room with a bunch of other scared, confused kids of my age. From there, you know the story, the training, the hardship, the bonding with the squad you were put with… and the augmentation, only the story changes for me.

You see, they weren’t content with making me a spartan, no, they wanted more. As my brothers and sisters were sent off to their first assignments, I was carted off to another facility. There, they ran tests, did scans, more tests, measured me, all in the name of a new extra augmentation that would have me attached to even more metal than the bit that covered my very bones…

They had chosen me for my aggression, my undying will to slay and fight even when no-one else would… and when that fatefull day came that was combined in that unholy union of flesh and metal? I fought like hell.

They said I was out for weeks, asleep, though in horrific pain and torment as my body slowly gave in to the augmentations, but when I finally awoke, they deemed it a success. I soon was stumbling into the armory where my handler was waiting, and he filled me in on what exactly the parts were for, all while my skin had grown over the new parts, making me twice my normal size and bulk.

He put in simple terms, as I was more in tune with the raw spirit of fighting, rather than the technical side of it… It was a system that slowly regulated the stimulants and adrenaline that would flow into me during heated combat, while also fueling my rage by injecting bio-foam and morphine after over-exerting myself during moments of extreme distress and damage taken…

I had to take it all in, but once I had, it had become clear: The more I pushed forward in combat and fought more fierce, the farther in my slaying I could go…

He then showed me my suit I would wear, a modified SPV1 suit, designed to fit my bulk and compliment my strength, and after suiting myself up, I was led to a cryo-bay, where I was laid onto and locked into a pod, which would keep me sealed away in a combat simulation that never would end…

Until I was finally set free.

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Chapter 2

“Sir, you sure we should open this one? He’s been locked in there for the entire war!”

“Son, we didn’t intend for that, though we’re not going to be thawing him out just yet. He’ll be intergrated into an Anvil wargames simulation to see what has become of him…”

Years… a decade? Century? How could I know? From all this time spent fighting, I had lost the concept of time… until it hit me. A blinking object in front of me, while all of my eternal foes frozen in what could only be described as sweet silence, a moment of peace and serenity unlike anything I had known.

And then? Nothing. All I could see was darkness… that is until the simulation lit up, and it appeared to be a setup of a training sim of sorts, but way more high-tech than I had ever seen, alien even! Above, an announcer was heard, a human voice, something I hadn’t heard aside from my own in years.

In front of me, a display showed and read, “Wargames, Slayer”, and I readied my weapon for whatever was to come my way…

“SIR! COME QUICK!”
“What is it boy, you don’t have to shout!”
“Sir… this “spartan” isn’t your typical SII, they did something to him!”
“My god, these readings! Get me command on a secured holonet server, we’re going to need spartans more suited for this…”

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Keep it coming

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(Thanks! This next post will be my character info for the survivors, as his story will continue there… though I may add some side stuff here if I find the time for it~)

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Finding the time is always the hard part! That’s why I’m on here to suck in all your hard work in 1/10th the time.

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SYSTEM MEDICAL AND STATS FOR UNKNOWN PATIENT, NICKNAMED “THE DOOMED SLAYER” BY DOCTOR --------

ENTRY BEGINS…

The patient’s name, background history, rank, and most other info is lost due to bad records, and the conditions of where he was found. In my proffesional opinion, it is a miracle this man is alive on multiple accounts, though part of this may be due to his physical attributes contributed by his unorthodox augemtations…

PATIENT SPECS LISTED:

He is 1.5 times the size of even the largest recorded Spartan II, and his body mass and bulk seems to be of an oddity. At first we figured it was just his armor, but it was later deducted that this suit he wears is nothing more than a heavily modified bodyglove, and minimal armor. Further scans indicate parts of it appear to be grafted onto him, as if they are in fact apart of his augmentations… The suit is highly outdated, and it is of my reccomendation that it must be removed or upgraded as soon as possible, to avoid jepradizing this man’s life.

MENTAL STATE:

I’m no psychologist, but seeing as he has been locked in a never-ending combat simulation since he was sealed away, as well as never having any human interaction, it is safe to assume he may be rather dangerous to release without the proper precautions, hence why I am requesting a surviving team of Spartan II’s to oversee his opening and intergration, (if he is fit for active duty.)

FURTHER NOTES:

While the methods of how he got here, or where he was found is unknown, we managed to get a small piece of information regarding him: His modified cryopod was noted to be designated as “The Sealed Tomb”, and his project aimed to make the ultimate combat-rage-induced soldier… carefull restraints will need to be put in place to handle him under heavy scrutiny.

Doctor --------

END OF LOG

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Character Bio:

Name: Forgotten after being locked in a combat simulation for an entire decade.
Age: 35
Height: 9 foot (Augmented)
Weight: 400 pounds (Roughly)
As almost as big as a Spartan II with their entire suit on, minus the helmet and bodyglove-suit that are grafted onto him alongside the augmentations.Abilities/Strengths: Explosives, Heavy weaponry, strong enough to withstand recoil from normal firearms, can carry turrents and huge weaponry as if they were normal rifles, is an accomplished CQC Expert. Surprisingly cunning and tatical in combat do to a decade of non-stop fighting. Insanely fast and agile for someone of his size/bulk. His augmentations allow for him to endure loads of damage, while being fueled to move even faster and stronger the more engrossed into combat he gets, while having quick healing and enhanced strength/speed because of it.Weaknesses: Hates long-range engagements, stealth, and bulky, unusual armor. Extremely hard to calm down, takes his anger out around on whatever is nearby. Too big to fit in many vehicle types, as well as standard Spartan armor. Fights alone mainly, doesn’t care much for orders or saving/protecting anyone.Beliefs: He fights for honor, and ignores those who he believes are too weak to bother him. He doesn’t fight anyone for no reason, but when he does, he fights like hell to see them dead. Hates treacherous people, stays high-tech and updated to better get the job done, and isn’t afraid to try out and use new things.

(Posted this here in case anyone reading would like some more detailed stats for him~)

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Lost Chapter 1

(Author’s note: This would take place in his mind during the decade of the simulation, in which his memories would be fragmented at best from just constant, repetitive combat, thus why I can’t really find a spot to place this in the rest of the chapters.)

Glass… Smoldering ruins… Fire…

Utter desolation of whatever this planet would have been, an aftermath of what little intel sent to me has called “Glassing”. The finished product done by the newly encountered collective of alien races known simply as the “Covenant”.

I have no idea of what they want with humanity, nor do I care, only that if they caused destruction on this scale, and they wish to kill me, then they are my enemy, plain and simple.

But such destruction… I am thankfull this armor of mine is sealed, as I hear the gravel and glass crunch beneath my boots, see the clouds of dust, powdered glass, and ash blow across the barren landscape that has become this planet. Magma flows from cracks in the earth from the rupturing of it’s surface, and sharp, deadly formations of glassed remains of whatever had once dotted this landscape are the only landmarks to speak of.

I step with care, hoping to not find a hole in which my weight would shatter the covering, as well as looking for caves of jagged shards of shattered, smashed glass which could provide cover or entrances to bunkers left behind by the previous inhabitants of this planet. Other than the sounds of the dust storms and harsh winds, the planet was of a maddening silence, so when I heard the distinct sounds of a “phantom” approaching, I was already in cover as it flew in quickly and dropped off yet another hit squad before flying off again.

It was the usual formation, with an added twist: Three “Elites”, a typical pair of “Hunters”, and several “Skirmishers” intended to flank and overwhelm me. I loaded my rifle, ready to begin again as the Skirmishers took point, while the Elites stuck together, and the Hunters behind as a sort of overwatch for the rest. With a shrill cry the Skirmishers advanced on me, and I prepared my assault once again…