HL2RP² Character Epilogues

[Ricsow]

music
As the invasion of the gene-worm came to a crushing end, so did an era.

With nothing left for them on the Red Coast, the Reclaimers quietly disbanded just as quick as they came, and it's key members soon scattered off around the world.

Warren Barr, former leader of "Lambda's Finest", former co-leader of the Reclaimers, and former engineer for D22 succeeded in his one true goal in life, despite all odds.

The horrid contraptions he worked on for the Combine, the people he promised he'd protect and let down, and failing to save his wife from being captured and killed by combine forces after rebellious acts, all of them left him wanting nothing more but to save more people than he ever killed. A feat that, due to the deadly effectiveness of his former career, seemed impossible to him.

But despite that, he and his allies saved the world. An entire planet's worth of people saved was much more than he ever expected, but was always craved by him.

With his purpose in life fulfilled, Warren would go on to do one final tour of every place he had visited over the last 15 months except Romania, before settling down for good. But not before one thing was done.

After setting up one final memorial for his fallen brothers, Roger Berkhoff (@fabevil) and Karl Warren (@Lex), Barr went mostly silent over public comms, rarely being seen outside of meetups or gatherings with those he spent 15 months with.

Where or if he still continues fighting is unknown, but rumors have surfaced of a small pub somewhere on the outskirts of Scotland that is suspiciously titled 'The Barr'.​

 

[rob]

This image goes hard

 

[「🖤 Morpho-Syntax 🖤」]

yoo incredible

 

[Bounter]

In the tranquil wilderness of Romania, amidst the towering trees and the gentle babble of a nearby stream, Luke Walters had finally found the peace he had long sought after the tumultuous war against the aliens of Race X. Retiring from a life of rebellion, Luke had settled into a simple existence at a refugee camp, surrounded by the natural beauty of the landscape and the warmth of his newfound community.

Luke's days were filled with quiet routines and the comforting familiarity of routine. He spent his mornings tending to the gardens, nurturing the earth with hands that had once wielded weapons of war. In the afternoons, he would stroll through the forest, lost in thought as he reflected on the trials and tribulations of the past.

But Luke's peaceful retirement was soon disrupted by news from his friend John Doe @WstStranger , who had ventured to an old abandoned combine city for family matters. Concerned for John's safety, Luke couldn't ignore the call for help. Despite his desire for a quiet life, he knew he couldn't turn his back on a friend in need.

With resolve in his heart, Luke embarked on a journey to rescue John, guided by the memory of their shared struggles and the bond forged in the fires of war. Along the way, he encountered another friend, Jessica Fowler @NiGHT , who had been kidnapped and taken to a facility for experimentation by remnants of Race X. Luke knew he couldn't abandon Jessica to her fate, and so he vowed to free her from captivity.

As Luke's journey unfolded, he found unexpected allies in the form of old acquaintances. Among them was Randall Clark @Bounter , a former member of the GTC, who was providing medical aid to John after he had been wounded in a skirmish with a combine named VICE-8 @Zack . The encounter had left Randall injured, but his unwavering determination to help his fellow survivors mirrored Luke's own sense of duty.

Despite the dangers they faced, Luke and his companions pressed on, confronting VICE-8 and capturing them in a bold display of unity and courage. But in an unexpected twist, VICE-8 was eventually reformed, their heart softened by the compassion and forgiveness shown by Luke and his friends.

In the end, Luke's retirement was not defined by solitude, but by the bonds of friendship and the shared journey towards healing and redemption. As he returned to the tranquility of his refugee camp, VICE-8 at his side, Luke knew that his days of fighting may have ended, but his legacy of compassion and resilience would endure for generations to come. And amidst the wilderness of Romania, he found happiness not in the absence of conflict, but in the strength of the connections that bound him to his friends and the promise of a brighter future forged from the ashes of war.

Wait, me giving you meds is after Gene-worm or am I being dumb
Also hell ye

 

[deathwolf]

music
As the invasion of the gene-worm came to a crushing end, so did an era.

With nothing left for them on the Red Coast, the Reclaimers quietly disbanded just as quick as they came, and it's key members soon scattered off around the world.

Warren Barr, former leader of "Lambda's Finest", former co-leader of the Reclaimers, and former engineer for D22 succeeded in his one true goal in life, despite all odds.

The horrid contraptions he worked on for the Combine, the people he promised he'd protect and let down, and failing to save his wife from being captured and killed by combine forces after rebellious acts, all of them left him wanting nothing more but to save more people than he ever killed. A feat that, due to the deadly effectiveness of his former career, seemed impossible to him.

But despite that, he and his allies saved the world. An entire planet's worth of people saved was much more than he ever expected, but was always craved by him.

With his purpose in life fulfilled, Warren would go on to do one final tour of every place he had visited over the last 15 months except Romania, before settling down for good. But not before one thing was done.

After setting up one final memorial for his fallen brothers, Roger Berkhoff (@fabevil) and Karl Warren (@Lex), Barr went mostly silent over public comms, rarely being seen outside of meetups or gatherings with those he spent 15 months with.

Where or if he still continues fighting is unknown, but rumors have surfaced of a small pub somewhere on the outskirts of Scotland that is suspiciously titled 'The Barr'.​

thank you for the image

 

[PepicWalrus]

Spoiler: XCOM Chimera Squad - The Reborn Steel City

The HL2RP Multiverse is a vast network of different realities, a tapestry of many different interconnected threads held together by Vortessence. This timeline reaches a fraying point, spanning off into many directions to be woven into new stories. This is just one of those directions..

HALF-LIFE 2 ROLEPLAY: AFTER-LIFE

The last few years have been a tumultuous endeavor for all. The world has been left forever changed, the fabric of reality weakened hanging by threads. Resources drained by the Combine and consumed by Race X. War almost re-sparking at least three times bare minimum but thankfully to the vast changes the various factions underwent and dedicated leaders of the various forming factions in leu of The Geneworms defeat a treaty was signed formalizing the formation of The Populus.

The Combine
The Combine following the Geneworms destruction began to become dismantled en masse, almost as if on a trigger with the Geneworms demise all of Civil Protection and the Overwatch Transhuman Arm was branded autonomous. Synths set loose into the wilderness roaming like untamed animals. Few would only know the truth, as the tyrant slugs crawled into their holes to act from the shadows.

The Transhuman

The Transhuman Arm with their shackles believed to be broken split into three paths. Some have tried to incorporate themselves into this new Society, although a mistrust from the general populace remains reflected in the many laws that slowly strip Transhumans of their freedoms, having to wear markings that dictate their origins openly and the most recent decree to forbid any form of new Transhumanisation.

There are those that gather into nomadic tribes that traverse the vast Outlands that still remain. Taming rogue synths to carry them along. Taking camp near the new cities when they need to trade for survival but seldom allowed or desire entry. These gatherings have also grown beyond just those who have been augmented but also those who support, Half Stalkers who didn't get fully converted or those who hope to find a way to become augmented themselves.

Then there are those that seek to find themselves, to understand their new place. A gathering that follows a spiritual path referred to as The Convergent . This is by far the most tolerated sect of Transhumans, however mystery surrounds the monastic congregation the need for the life preserving supplements that Transhumans normally need to survive claim to no longer need it in those that follow this path. How this is possible or if there's truth behind it remains a closely guarded secret and topic of discussion among those that would love to pry into it.


Civil Protection

With the treaty signed only a select few Civil Protection were trialed for the choices made during the occupation, a lot of it was posturing giving up a few sacrificial lambs to let the rest go free. As a whole Civil Protection broke, some would come together to form remnant insurgencies, but many would put aside the masks, some walking away for good but others finding perches in all echelons of the society to come. Many plot and plan in secret, pushing their own agenda.

The Resistance

The many unaligned groups that make up the Resistance would slowly choose their own paths, some dispersing, some evolving, and some pushing towards a brighter future. The uncountable lives lost for their cause, for a brighter future being paid off.

Lambda

Lambda, the spark that lit the flame to get this far remains. Splitting into two primary divisions. Lambda Research & Development leading the charge on bettering humanity with new technologies, and the Lambda Peacekeeper Agency. At the head lead by the elected Director Barney Calhoun who'd dedicate himself ensuring security and safety for the new society to be, although when he could spare approval for them he'd personally lead search teams for his two missing friends who had last been known departing from White Forest heading to the arctic circle, eventually they'd find their crashed Helicopter and, in the same region parts of an empty Aperture Science dry dock but no ship to be found.

Lambda R&D
Lambda R&D is the leading research foundation, although not the only one that has sprung up. However with official backing the ability to get approval on sensitive projects is far easier then compares to independent organizations.

The Lambda Peacekeeper Agency, a task force that deals with keeping order when the day to day Enforcers aren't enough. Taking on insurgents, terrorists, and missions approved by The Council. A variety of agents have been enlisted since its formation From ex resistance fighters, Vortigaunts, Transhumans, CivPro Reformants, and even the likes of alien grunts among other sentient life forms that slowly keep arriving. Strike Teams are geared for highly specialized missions. With a lack of centralized military and each of the Treaty Members having their own priorities and personal defense groups. The LPA was created as a unified effort that all provide for.

Vortigaunts

Vortigaunts once the war was over spread to all corners of the world, some involving themselves deeply with the new political sphere acting as council members, consultants, or just living life to the new adaptive society. Diversity slowly creeping into this section of the Vortigaunt population, some leaning more feminine then masculine and other more human-y trends being adopted.

On the opposite spectrum others have sought out to finding secluded corners of the Outlands to establish small enclave communities. Vortigaunt only communities that keep to themselves away from the new ways of life.

The Populus
(name credit to Ricsow)

The formation of a new Government that varied different species, and people were happy with was not easy to manage. A council formed with representatives from all walks of those that now call Sol their home. Society began to heal despite the growing pains, cities rebuilt incorporating all that they could rivaling the metropolises of old Earth, The Populus was formed. Technology advanced by the left overs of the Combine Overwatch, minds of vast differences unchained by oppression to build a better tomorrow. With time the effects of the suppression field finally began to wear off, and the first new generation in over two decades was born. The planet they come into is scarred by horrors they'll never begin to understand and thankfully so. Visible scars that will not fully heal for many centuries, if ever.

To lead this new alliance a council of representatives was formed, representatives from the many walks of life that now exist to ensure the needs and rights for their people are met. It is a time of political powerplays, many decisions still need to be made and those in elected seats push their agendas heavily. The future is uncertain as the laws could go any direction.​

All is not perfect with this new Society however. While the freshly built glimmering spires tower high, the pits in the foundation go low. Under the gleam of the upper cities is a harsh reality that everyone cannot be provided for. That many get cast to poverty and in turn look to other methods of survival. A rampant underbelly of crime lords, gangs, mobs, and poor dredges of society live.

With these vast new advancements not all seek to use them for good. With regulations so fresh or not decided upon yet and an abundance of unregistered alien technology laying around many seek to develop unapproved technology that proves to be dangerous. Dark Matter becoming a highly sought after resource. Weapons, Augments, Unethical experiments all proving a dangerous and slowly growing problem in the lower cities.

And despite all that the Benefactor Menace still persists, a looming threat as these enigmatic malefactors remain at large their existence becoming prominent in the final stretches of the war. One of The Populus' promises is to see these threats neutralized. Although there is whispers that their influence can be felt in all dark corners. Conspiracy Theorists believing even top officials still listen to these puppet master and that they never stopped pulling the strings. in the final days of the war one of these entities came forward to the Resistance and helped in the defeat of the Geneworm and brokering peace afterwards, several others of these came forward in different regions and now assist in helping find their fellow Shu'ula'thoi. The same conspiracy theorists also lament the misplacement of trust upon these few.

Concept
This is the first draft of what would of become of the world under my interpretation . An XCOM Chimera Squad inspired society that sees the adoption of all the alien influence that has happened upon the world rather then shun it and return the world to the ways before the combine. Featuring a dichotomy akin to Piltover and Zaun, two symbiotic sides of the same coin with high tension between them.

This would have a heavy focus on true character freedom, characters not chained down by faction restrictions and every kind of character could fit any role from Vortigaunt politicians to Transhuman Gang Members and your allegiances being entirely character driven. On top of this there'd be hidden among all areas of society Combine Loyalists who now act in shadows. Anyone could be secretly pushing an agenda and that threat could come from all directions.

I'll probably continue to write stuff about this in my spare time. As mentioned this is just a first draft so a lot still needs to be cleaned up. If it is of interest to anyone then please share your own interpretations on this and stories set in this possible future, and truly feel free to go in any direction with no limitations. It would help expand and influence such a setting. Thank you, remember this is just one possible outcome for this world and perhaps in the future if given the opportunity this timeline will be taken out of stasis.​

 

[Gyarik]

A letter was left somewhere not far from the coast of Kaliningrad, inside an abandoned shack.
There is no obvious signature written on it, however a date appears before everything else.

Spoiler: Song

"16 - 03 - 2024"

It has been a long while since the last time I had any chance to write. Although I feel like there isn't much left to say for me, I still wish to express my thoughts on the current affairs; one last entry before my service turns to a different direction.

JURY-3, SWORD-4, HUNTER-5. I remember all these designations, yet I refuse to speak of my old name, my "real" name. Eventually, it will be forgotten, just like most of my past memories. I have no doubt this is for the best, Overwatch always knows what is best for us - and Civil Protection. Losing what remained of my humanity was only a necessary step towards evolution, and still... I have a few, lingering sentiments.

With DAGGER-3 and SPEAR-1 deceased, I wander alone to my final directive; before I, or rather, Garrison 314 is voided of any further duty. And it will remain as such for months, years, maybe forever, until we are needed again - if we will be needed ever again. Regardless, the only Ordinal I've followed since the very beginning, and a soldier that I waited to welcome in the force for months before, now nothing more than nameless corpses resting under a decomissioned blacksite. A fitting end for sure, both served Overwatch well until the very end, and for that, I have a odd sense of cherishment for these two comrades, hence I dedicate these words to them.

One must move on however, even if I am now left without purpose or a mission; whether or not deterioration will get to me before it is too late and I begin talking to ghosts, only time can tell. For once, I can say I feel accomplished in many aspects of my service: all regrets were already taken away through ascension, but back then it felt as if I was "incomplete", not done with this line of career. Doubt has been a weakness of mine for as long as I can remember, even now I am uncertain of what the future has in store for the Transhuman Arm; not relevant though, I personally do not hold worries for myself anymore. On the contrary, I have learnt to put my trust in the Ordinals, the Commanders and, most importantly, Overwatch. It is all that matters.

Civil Protection, the Officers of G314 to be exact, stood their ground in being so adamant on avoiding ascension, some securing themselves a position in the highest rank for that purpose only, others openly shunning the process of transhumanization, and the ones who instead chose to directly defy Overwatch and attempt to turn against it. Despite this, I still hold respect for the Officers who survived the worst perils we, as a Garrison, have faced, as well as other units I somehow still remember, yet have already passed away or gone elsewhere: JURY-2 and HERO-0, disappeared without a trace, but not forgotten for all we have endured in City 24; HUNTER-3 and the previous HUNTER-5, sacrificed for the greater good when needed the most; VICE-3, long-standing statue, perhaps for his own betterment; DEFENDER-6, a Rank Leader like no other; DEFENDER-3, always on point with her duties, despite having been at odds with each other on several occasions; and many more lost deep within my replaced memories.

I am not good with closing words, however I can say one last thing. To every individual who still believes in Overwatch, post-human or not, our time to truly "live" again will appear in due time, as all that is left for us is patience, and in patience I shall believe.



// People mentioned \\

// DAGGER-3 + JURY-2 | @Provingmedusa \\
// SPEAR-1 | @Eviction Notice \\
// HERO-0 | @Laura \\
// HUNTER-3 | @STUCK IN A CAKE \\
// ex HUNTER-5 | @Toriwarior30055 \\
// VICE-3 | @Syntax (nice untaggable name) \\
// DEFENDER-6 | @RedMan \\
// DEFENDER-3 | @Simman102 \\​

 

[「🖤 Morpho-Syntax 🖤」]

good when needed the most; VICE-3, long-standing statue, perhaps for his own betterment​

OH MY GOD YOU'RE STILL GOING WITH THIS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 

[PepicWalrus]

I am not good with closing words, however I can say one last thing. To every individual who still believes in Overwatch, post-human or not, our time to truly "live" again will appear in due time, as all that is left for us is patience, and in patience I shall believe.


​

Do Transhumans dream of synthetic sheep?

 

[Subeh]

cecilia

 

[constantdisplay]

05/11/26 - Church on the Hill

​

She never planned to be a soldier - and after being whisked up into conflict and events that were almost entirely out of her depth as she left the forests of Czechia and the outpost she'd lived in as a refugee - Kelly managed to settle down again following the death of the Geneworm. Parting ways with friends and allies, some she'd lived alongside with for more than a year now - she moved further up the coast - following the old mission directions of a Lambda agent. She found an outpost ironically formed by refugees that had passed through Outpost Berkhoff as part of their exodus from City 14, an idyllic built-up church on a hill.

With months passing since his death, she finally scattered the ashes of Alexander Gal into the Baltic Sea - the ones she'd been holding on to for way too long, trying to move on. As time passed, she slowly transitioned back to living the life of a provider - a fisherwoman, scavenger and forager for the outpost - as it grew out of it's original Lambda-serving purpose, becoming more of a small town. The painted logo adorning the church faded and peeled under assault from the sea breeze. Slightly embellished tales of vortal teleportation, icythosaur hunting, advisor combat and time travel made for good campfire stories.
​

 

[avralwobniar]

Wait, me giving you meds is after Gene-worm or am I being dumb
Also hell ye

idk ask chatgpt

 

[Blitz0012]

Spoiler: Song

Central Geneva, a dark office in the Palace: a letter sat on the absent desk of the Director of the International Aid Concern. A missive from one of many inspectors, who'd finally made contact with the team following some notable rebel cells.

Spoiler: Attachments

@Random - Fedot Pushkin
@Blitz0012 - Roger Woods

​

 

[RedMan]

Spoiler: Theme

THE FATE OF VALENTIN VALK
Some time following the deployment in the Outskirts of Bucharest, Romania. Rank Leader DEFENDER-6 from Garrison 314 is invited to a private meeting, a dropship shortly arrived and took him away; traversing many miles Eastwards. The sleep-deprived rank-leader sat alone in the drop pod. Tapping his boot away in rhytmn to the sounds of the synthetic engine, as he pondered to himself about the nature of the meeting.

The journey was short, but distant.

A firm thud eminated from the bottom of the drop pod, the doors promptly opening, and the light reached out into the dark confines before being disrupted by a dark figure whom approached the dropship. The tapping of the boot ceased as DEFENDER-6 looked outside.

A familiar Unit, a Compatriot, a fellow Custodian. A replica of his ideals.

A quick exchange of formalities was underway, before DEFENDER-6 was escorted into the Outpost; which sat slanted on the side of the mountain.

The halls, the corridors, and the offices were deprived of colour. The personnel demonstrated absolute discipline and silence whilst working; a silence that was otherwise disrupted by frequent beeping of nearby computers and telecommunication devices. The white artificial light exaggerated the pale skin of Clerks and Watchers housed within the Stronghold.

After navigating the maze, the pair found themselves at the end of the corridor, the door slid upwards. Revealing a meeting room occupied by a large blue rectangular metalic table, a set of cushioned seats each occupied by a masked Custodial member. A notable corkboard stretched across the wall; filled with pins, notes, and threads interlinking everything together.

Audible footsteps eminated from behind DEFENDER-6; heavy clunky footsteps.
An Overwatch Commander, a member of the Custodials, spoke up from behind DEFENDER-6.

"<:: DEFENDER-6, RANK LEADER OF GARRISON 314. PREPARE TO RECEIVE JUDGEMENT."

The heart sank as dread settled in; the shivers running on his back.

"<:: YOU ARE CHARGED WITH FIVE COUNTS OF 99; RECKLESS OPERATION. :>>"

"Wait. What?"

"<:: ONE COUNT OF 182; INACTION. :>>"
"<:: FAILURE TO UPHOLD COHESION WITHIN GARRISON 314. :>>"

"This is untrue! I have mad-

"<:: THREE COUNTS OF 183; CONSPIRACY. :>>"
"<:: FAILURE TO EXPUNGE DEFECTORS. :>>"
"<:: FAILURE TO PREVENT AND EXPUNGE RANK LEADER DEFECTORS. :>>"

"This is bullshit. I have organis-"

"<:: SUSPEND IMMEDIATELY. :>>"
"<:: ONE COUNT OF 422; CAPITAL MALCOMPLIANCE. :>>"
"<:: UNSANCTIONED AUTONOMOUS ACTIVITY WITHIN GARRISON 314. :>>"

"<:: CUSTODIALS, STATE YOUR VERDICT. :>>"

To speak against the Overwatch Commander would be a cardinal sin, it feels like I have a parasite wedged between the lungs and throat which prevents me from speaking. Clogging up the thousands of words.

"<:: GUILTY. :>>"

These Custodials are corrupted and infested with degenerate ideas, the same elements which inhibited the Overwatch Security Council in City 24.

"<:: CHARGE AS GUILTY :>>"

I cannot run away, the doors behind me are blockaded. The MP7 rests on the back sling; the USP rests in the holster clipped over the top; the two HE and two flash grenades sit side-by-side on the belt; the knife attached to the boot pointing downwards.

"<:: WE THINK GUILTY. :>>"

I see the letter from the Armbands pinned on the corkboard. It is too far and dark to read it from the distance. I do not recognise it as the letter that I had once received from them.

"<:: SEND HIM AWAY AS GUILTY. :>>"

In contrast, the picture of that girl next to the letter is familiar; it is the one that sat on the snowy mountain side and spoke to me over the radio. The Elizabeth. Is she somehow involved in this situation?

"<:: THIS IS NO CUSTODIAL, GUILTY. :>>"

Maybe it was one of my Watchers that plotted this downfall; VICE-3, maybe XRAY-0?

"<:: GUILTY. :>>"

They don't know what I can do. I could strike now and escape.
Quickly toss a flashbang dead centre onto the table.
Turn around and unholster the USP.
Fifteen bullets. One in the chamber.
Turn around once more.
Fire into the shoulder and head of each participant within this room.
This would leave me with the Overwatch Commander.
A singular bullet may not be enough.
Not enough time to unsling the MP7.

"<:: ABSTAIN. :>>"

Wishful thinking...
To think the years of training, leadership and experience.
Led me to this very moment.
To be killed by my fellow compatriots.
To plot and kill my fellow compatriots.

"<:: YOU WILL PROVIDE A VERDICT. :>>"

I cannot end the Custodials of Protocol.
It is the only hope for the Combine.
Perhaps I am the cancer that is holding it back.
It needs a ruthless and strong leader.
To which I am not.

"<:: GUILTY. :>>"

The Jury had spoken.
No one will remember me.

A short click and bang.
It quickly faded to black.
The heartbeat withered with each passing second.​

 

[deathwolf]

On 20.06.2048, Harland Roscha and 40,000 Vortigaunts suddenly vanished overnight, many theories have spun about what may have happened to them, but no one truly knows.

Charge of the Final Brigade

I
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the fourty thousand.
“Forward, the Final Brigade!
Charge for the core!” he said.
Into the valley of Death
Rode the fourty thousand.

II
“Forward, the Final Brigade!”
Was there kin dismayed?
Not though the soldier knew
Someone had blundered.
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.
Into the valley of Death
Rode the fourty thousand.

III
Synthetics to right of them,
Synthetics to left of them,
Synthetics in front of them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with beam and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of hell
Rode the fourty thousand.

IV
Flashed all their energies bare,
Flashed as they turned in air
Rending the synthetics there,
Charging an army, while
All the universe wondered.
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right through the line they broke;
Hunter and Soldier
Reeled from the vortal stroke
Shattered and sundered.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the fourty thousand.

V
Synthetics to right of them,
Synthetics to left of them,
Synthetics behind them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with beam and shell,
While horse and hero fell.
They that had fought so well
Came through the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of fourty thousand.

VI
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the universe wondered.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Final Brigade,
Noble fourty thousand!​

 

[Oswald]

Jury-0 sat amongst his fellow protectors, feeling the rumbling steps of the terrorists coming down the hall to finally destroy this holdout. They had truly lost, The zealot of Union felt the truth of his fate breathing down his neck.

<:: We have lost Null-Jury...::>

Another piped up stating.
<:: I wasn't a monster like the rest of you, you two took joy in what you did. You deserve this. ::>

The two Ultra-loyalists turned their heads and stared down the handful of men Jury spoke to his Frater
<:: He is right. Once the truth is shown we will be hung. ::>

With a swift motion, he lifted his weapon on the unsuspecting men and gunned them down. Fish in a barrel until there were only two
<:: I see, they cannot spread the truth, Wise decision Null. ::>

Null-Jury nodded once and motioned to the door which his partner approached dropping his gun ready to give up to the enemy combatants but Jury had other ideas. Removing his mask as he shot his man in the back, with a sadistic smile plastered over his face.

"No loose ends."

Null-Jury would surrender himself to the enemy, stating those within were hardliners willing to fight to the death, lying his way through to a light sentence and 'de-unification' the monster of Garrison 3.1.4 being let free back into the wild to assimilate into this new world.​

 

[Dan]

Edquardo Delfuero dies at 64​

"Everything for everyone,
and nothing for ourselves"

We are deeply saddened to announce the passing of Dr. Prof. Edquardo Delfuero-Villarosadas, (known 'Fuero,' or 'Lalo' to close friends,) formerly of Chiapas, Mexico, and the New Spanish Republic of Cristal. On March 26th, 2029, at the age of 64, Delfuero fought his final battle with late stage lung cancer in the Cristalan commune of Anibal. Edquardo requested his passing was not to be described 'peacefully.'

Fuero participated in the 2023 liberation of Geneva and was veteran of several anti-Combine & anti-fascist campaigns in his homeland as well as Switzerland, Romania, the western microstates of Bosnovan Kingdom, Nuova Venezia, Andorra-Barcelona, and Montpeiller. He was a key player in the establishment of República Cristal, and the previous dethroning of tyrant king Rosalez.

Edquardo was a revolutionary and a guerilla, as well as a general surgeon and midwife. At his heart he was a teacher, learner and lover of the world. He enjoyed fishing, reading, a nice coffee, a well cooked meal, and time spent with friends of which he had many.



Alongside his great companion Franklin Weaver, his socialwork and research in Bucharest lead to the advancement of childcare and natal health practices for women post-suppression field.

Delfuero was preceded in death by his parents as well as his wife, Dominica, and his son, Federico Jose, who were both victims of the first Combine invasion.
Though not survived by blood relatives, in his later years he was surrounded by students and children who knew him as 'tío,' and his loss will be felt by Anibalan locals.

He spent his final days in the Anibalan Wellness Centre under the care of his own colleagues. In his final act of charity, he has donated his body to science.
Staffers of the community clinic have announced their decision to rename the establishment, 'Hospital Conmemorativo del tio Fuero.'

In tandem, the Anibalan University at which he volunteered has adopted the name 'Weaver Institute,' by the late doctor's request.
Edquardo has described Franklin Weaver as 'a man with a heart strong enough to share the burden on his shoulders.'

Lalo was a source of inspiration and guidance to his students and Godchildren. He leaves behind cherished memories, valuable life lessons and great contributions to newly emerging medical fields.
He has saved countless lives including my own.

Prayer Services will be held on Thursday, March 29th at 2:00 p.m. at Loren Funeral Home. A formal military burial will be held at a later date to be determined.

-

-​

-​

-

~​

hillsides ring with
"FREE THE PEOPLE!"
or can i hear the echoes
from the days of '39?

 

[Appetite Ruining Kebab]

REPUBLIC OF GENEVA, SOLOMON KNAPP UNIVERSITY
YEAR 2042
SYMPOSIUM ON RESONANCE HOMOGENIZATION & XENOSAPIENT EVOLUTION
by Masum Khan Afridi



“...Therefore, we must accept that the world has irreversibly changed, and will continue to irreversibly change. We live in a metroplex where the oldest trees harbor roots of xenoflora, where dogs engage in play-behavior with houndeyes, where seagulls flock with Manta Rays and vortikind serve proudly in government with men. This planet no longer belongs to us alone; and it is all the more vibrant for it. Neighbors are the greatest remedy to our hubris, a moderation that does not disparage our achievements. To fear the emergence of Homo Xeniana now is to stray from our basest instinct to exist in harmony with nature; whether that nature be of our world, or that of another’s.”


There was a standing ovation. He took a moment to collect himself, hobbling to his desk to sip an otherworldly substance through a traditional mug.

The room was strongly ventilated; the spores his body produced were sucked away into shafts before they reached the participants. This was the humane alternative to placing a glass panel between him and the audience, though it hindered the capacity of his lungs, an ironic feature of a public speaking occasion.

He wasn’t fond of visiting the city these days. In a way, he figured, it was the soldier’s curse; no matter how much you fought for a land, you’d always lament what the next generation turned it into. But there was something truly disappointing about the Geneva of today; a shelteredness that beckoned old depravities, a desperate clinging to a bygone pre-Combine era, and a prejudiced fear of all things alien - as if the aliens hadn’t helped them win the war - as if the old days they romanticized hadn’t brought this world to the brink of extinction and beckoned the unspeakable malefactors.

None of that stopped the ‘Nativist’ movement from taking hold, of course - and their xenophobia had only intensified since the Rank Leader Trials of June, the near-breakout attempt and the ensuing massacre fanning the flames of dormant unrest.


All the more reason why he needed to be here. He was the poster child of the Xenian Enlightenment Society, an unwilling celebrity whose every word was twisted and misinterpreted as both a bludgeon and a shield by allies and enemies alike in the ongoing culture (and biology) war. He was not just any ordinary ‘Wildman’ - but one who had gone through a remarkably harmonious transformation with the alien organisms that lived in his body - not to mention a veteran of the Freeman Revolution. Even those faces in the lecture hall that had looked at him with disgust would treat him with the courtesy of a hero, though more often than not, it was those who infantilized him under a gaze of scientific curiosity that tended to get under his skin.

“I will now take questions.” He declared, and to his misfortune, one such face of curiosity lead the query from among the crowd.


“Mister Afridi - while it is a well-researched fact that our generation inhales microspores on a constant basis, many of us live to the end of our lives with only occasional infections, most of them treatable by modern larval solutions. Some say that X.E.S advocates the avoidance of medigel therapy in these cases to cut back on healthcare costs, while others believe it is a vortigaunt conspiracy to deprive humans of essential resources. How do you feel about accusations that you’re a spokesperson for the willful zombification of the people?”



‘The willful zombification of the people’. He felt a stab at his heart and a primal indignation course through his veins. How dare this child compare biotransformation with parasitism? He readied himself for a measured reply, but his demeanor was hard to disguise in the late stages of his evolution. The gills along his neck exhaled an intense orange discharge, causing a recoiling motion from some in the room and stiff tension in others. The once-curious face before him had wilted into a deer in the headlights of his wrath.



“Let me begin by reassuring…”



---------------


"You must pace yourself, Afridi."

"Pace myself." He spat as he held onto the vortigaunt's shoulder, his exhausted body helped along by the being's frame. "My vessel has transformed at breakneck speeds. It is an effort to keep pace with myself alone; let alone the pace of Lambdan society."

"You called him an inferior species. It does not serve us to unflatter the humans."

"He implied I was no better than a zombie. A parasite. Need I remind you that I had to grant peace to my father under such circumstances?"

His alien steward remained silent. Submission, understanding, frustration - he did not need to look at this being's face to take in the complexity of his emotions. There was too much rapport over the decades to leave room for base misunderstandings. Not even the regret for his outburst needed verbalizing.

But sometimes he indulged in a good look anyway. How they shared their features between one another - the expressive tics, the vocal inflections, the simplest of habits. When he looked at one of them, he saw all of them. Weaver, Qhunnata, Abe - this one before him was each and none at once. He wondered if one day his own face might dance along theirs in the Vortessence. His mind had opened to certain unforeseen inputs, after all.


But for now, he had to leave the city. They put him in an express teleport chamber to avoid the Nativist demonstration in the campus yard.

It was the countryside where he felt most at peace. The empty roads were the canvas of his thoughts - whereas the sky above was a canvas of its own. His regenerated eye picked up on color bands not visible to homosapien sight. Today, he spotted the shades of what looked like background radiation from a supernova. At least 170,000 light years away. He'd remember to write a report to Geneva tomorrow.

For now, he had a more significant duty. He carried a bundle of larval extracts in his bag - the payment rendered to him for enduring the unpleasantness of the citygoers - and there was someone at home who needed it.

He entered his cottage and the pleasant smell of something warm filled his nostrils and opened his gills alike. A flavor of Kashmiri blended with Xen tea. He held a distinct memory of Cecilia's recipe throughout the decades. Him and Nadia had not just perfected it, but discovered wonders and variations only digestible to Xeniana.

He poured his supply of extracts into the incubating egg which held the developing embryo of his daughter. The capsule bubbled with life, and so did the movements of the life within.

He locked himself in his study for the rest of the night and scribbled words into a paper thin sheet of crystal.

'A Guide to Portal Forecasting' he began.​

 

[Cindy]

REPUBLIC OF GENEVA, SOLOMON KNAPP UNIVERSITY
YEAR 2042
SYMPOSIUM ON RESONANCE HOMOGENIZATION & XENOSAPIENT EVOLUTION
by Masum Khan Afridi



“...Therefore, we must accept that the world has irreversibly changed, and will continue to irreversibly change. We live in a metroplex where the oldest trees harbor roots of xenoflora, where dogs engage in play-behavior with houndeyes, where seagulls flock with Manta Rays and vortikind serve proudly in government with men. This planet no longer belongs to us alone; and it is all the more vibrant for it. Neighbors are the greatest remedy to our hubris, a moderation that does not disparage our achievements. To fear the emergence of Homo Xeniana now is to stray from our basest instinct to exist in harmony with nature; whether that nature be of our world, or that of another’s.”


There was a standing ovation. He took a moment to collect himself, hobbling to his desk to sip an otherworldly substance through a traditional mug.

The room was strongly ventilated; the spores his body produced were sucked away into shafts before they reached the participants. This was the humane alternative to placing a glass panel between him and the audience, though it hindered the capacity of his lungs, an ironic feature of a public speaking occasion.

He wasn’t fond of visiting the city these days. In a way, he figured, it was the soldier’s curse; no matter how much you fought for a land, you’d always lament what the next generation turned it into. But there was something truly disappointing about the Geneva of today; a shelteredness that beckoned old depravities, a desperate clinging to a bygone pre-Combine era, and a prejudiced fear of all things alien - as if the aliens hadn’t helped them win the war - as if the old days they romanticized hadn’t brought this world to the brink of extinction and beckoned the unspeakable malefactors.

None of that stopped the ‘Nativist’ movement from taking hold, of course - and their xenophobia had only intensified since the Rank Leader Trials of June, the near-breakout attempt and the ensuing massacre fanning the flames of dormant unrest.


All the more reason why he needed to be here. He was the poster child of the Xenian Enlightenment Society, an unwilling celebrity whose every word was twisted and misinterpreted as both a bludgeon and a shield by allies and enemies alike in the ongoing culture (and biology) war. He was not just any ordinary ‘Wildman’ - but one who had gone through a remarkably harmonious transformation with the alien organisms that lived in his body - not to mention a veteran of the Freeman Revolution. Even those faces in the lecture hall that had looked at him with disgust would treat him with the courtesy of a hero, though more often than not, it was those who infantilized him under a gaze of scientific curiosity that tended to get under his skin.

“I will now take questions.” He declared, and to his misfortune, one such face of curiosity lead the query from among the crowd.


“Mister Afridi - while it is a well-researched fact that our generation inhales microspores on a constant basis, many of us live to the end of our lives with only occasional infections, most of them treatable by modern larval solutions. Some say that X.E.S advocates the avoidance of medigel therapy in these cases to cut back on healthcare costs, while others believe it is a vortigaunt conspiracy to deprive humans of essential resources. How do you feel about accusations that you’re a spokesperson for the willful zombification of the people?”



‘The willful zombification of the people’. He felt a stab at his heart and a primal indignation course through his veins. How dare this child compare biotransformation with parasitism? He readied himself for a measured reply, but his demeanor was hard to disguise in the late stages of his evolution. The gills along his neck exhaled an intense orange discharge, causing a recoiling motion from some in the room and stiff tension in others. The once-curious face before him had wilted into a deer in the headlights of his wrath.



“Let me begin by reassuring…”



---------------


"You must pace yourself, Afridi."

"Pace myself." He spat as he held onto the vortigaunt's shoulder, his exhausted body helped along by the being's frame. "My vessel has transformed at breakneck speeds. It is an effort to keep pace with myself alone; let alone the pace of Lambdan society."

"You called him an inferior species. It does not serve us to unflatter the humans."

"He implied I was no better than a zombie. A parasite. Need I remind you that I had to grant peace to my father under such circumstances?"

His alien steward remained silent. Submission, understanding, frustration - he did not need to look at this being's face to take in the complexity of his emotions. There was too much rapport over the decades to leave room for base misunderstandings. Not even the regret for his outburst needed verbalizing.

But sometimes he indulged in a good look anyway. How they shared their features between one another - the expressive tics, the vocal inflections, the simplest of habits. When he looked at one of them, he saw all of them. Weaver, Qhunnata, Abe - this one before him was each and none at once. He wondered if one day his own face might dance along theirs in the Vortessence. His mind had opened to certain unforeseen inputs, after all.


But for now, he had to leave the city. They put him in an express teleport chamber to avoid the Nativist demonstration in the campus yard.

It was the countryside where he felt most at peace. The empty roads were the canvas of his thoughts - whereas the sky above was a canvas of its own. His regenerated eye picked up on color bands not visible to homosapien sight. Today, he spotted the shades of what looked like background radiation from a supernova. At least 170,000 light years away. He'd remember to write a report to Geneva tomorrow.

For now, he had a more significant duty. He carried a bundle of larval extracts in his bag - the payment rendered to him for enduring the unpleasantness of the citygoers - and there was someone at home who needed it.

He entered his cottage and the pleasant smell of something warm filled his nostrils and opened his gills alike. A flavor of Kashmiri blended with Xen tea. He held a distinct memory of Cecilia's recipe throughout the decades. Him and Nadia had not just perfected it, but discovered wonders and variations only digestible to Xeniana.

He poured his supply of extracts into the incubating egg which held the developing embryo of his daughter. The capsule bubbled with life, and so did the movements of the life within.

He locked himself in his study for the rest of the night and scribbled words into a paper thin sheet of crystal.

'A Guide to Portal Forecasting' he began.​

me when ARK writes a story using my lore

 

[Lewis!]

the emergence of Homo Xeniana

The Clamp has FALLEN.

@slick @ShaVeK HaChaver 814 @Merlinsclaw