Reyna
03-14-08, 09:44 PM
Name: Reyna Isheen
Alias: Reyna
Age: 23
Apparent Age: 23-24
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Class: Sergeant
Hair color: Platinum Blond
Eye color: Yellow-gold
Appearance: Thick blonde hair is pulled up into twin ponytails to the sides of her head, held in place by a pair of large spheres and dull yellow ribbons. Under each uninviting golden-white eye is a streak of olive-drab greasepaint that matches her heavy combat jacket. A navy blue bodysuit keeps her comfortable in most climates. She errs on the side of “functional” rather than “attractive”.
Personality: Take one part woman, add in two parts military father to four parts Marine training for every smart remark. Blend together, then throw away anything that isn't essential to the mission at hand. She'll get the job done and she won't leave a man behind. She was rumored to have a soft spot for cute, fuzzy things for a while, but that information was lost and "proven" wrong when she went rabbit hunting and proceeded to blow the rabbit's head clean off with a well-placed round.
Abilities:
Ki Strike: By channeling her physical energy into her limbs the instant before a strike, Reyna can increase the force of any unarmed strike by a time and a half.
Ki Shot: Even though her guns are inoperable due to having no ammunition, Reyna has learned to channel her latent ki into her magazines and is capable of releasing “bullets” that are, in all respects, arrows made of energy that act identically to real arrows. She can release one shot per post and must “reload” clips after eight shots. (Three when fighting another player) Reloading takes three uninterrupted posts.
Hand-to-Hand: Raised by a military father, Reyna learned from a young age how to take care of herself in a fight. She has skill greater than the average fighter in various forms of unarmed combat including karate, judo, and submission techniques.
Rifleman: With her rifle retrofitted to fire her unique shots, her accuracy has fallen to that of an average bowman. She can reliably hit a stationary target at fifty paces, but moving targets are shakier at 3/4 of that range.
Equipment:
Combat uniform – offers slightly more protection than your average clothing
Combat Jacket – Heavy cotton/nylon
Combat Cargos – More pockets than should be necessary
Combat boots – Made to be abusedCombat Knife (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:KA-BAR.jpg) – Standard-issue KA-BAR knife, twelve inches long with seven-inch blade and five-inch grip.
M-4 Carbine – No ammo, but still functions via Ki-shot.
Binoculars – Good for doubling her visible range. Also equipped with a night-vision module that is currently non-functioning.
History:
It wasn’t pretty. It never is. What started out as a traditional HALO insertion in a “peaceful” part of the pacific showed us why we do what we do. I was first out of the hatch… and damn lucky at that. The jump light was green, so we went… how were we supposed to know our pilot had turned coat? Then again, what else could we expect from a flyboy?
It was night, and there was no moon to be seen behind the thick clouds. That’s why we chose this night for it. Maybe it was why he chose this night for the raid. They were MIGs, and like always, there were two of them. Jason, the third jumper, was the last one to make it out before the devil paid us a visit. I don’t think the pilot knew they were planning on taking down the whole plane. All I can remember over the headset was some sort of Korean, then someone screamed and our ride wasn’t there anymore.
They couldn’t see us—we could only see them thanks to their engines—but chutes would give us away. It was going to hurt, but it was better than dying.
“Black one to Black two and three, we’re going into the LZ hot and heavy. Pop’em at 7500 and pray for the best. Maybe the devil will cut us a break this time.”
Because we really were doing the devils work. The mission was simple: go in, clean house, and the hilo will bring you home. I made my decision before my feet hit the ground and bullets started flying.
“Scrap the mission boys, I don’t think big daddy’s comin’ to bring us home after this. We’ve got no CommO and our Demo probably enjoyed that fireball the MIGs gave us. Let’s show them how a Marine deals with a SNAFU!”
I still don’t know how it happened. AK-47s opened up from our target before we even hit the dirt, but the three of us still managed to survive. Or, at least I think we all survived. The last thing I remember was a bright… flash. Next thing I know I’m falling out of a hole in the sky and my parachute’s still deployed. Oh, it’s also the middle of the day in the middle of nowhere. I somehow managed to survive the fall again, but it’s strange. I have no idea where I am or how I got here.
I do know one thing, though. If I ever get back home, I’m killing whatever bastards did this to me.
Alias: Reyna
Age: 23
Apparent Age: 23-24
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Class: Sergeant
Hair color: Platinum Blond
Eye color: Yellow-gold
Appearance: Thick blonde hair is pulled up into twin ponytails to the sides of her head, held in place by a pair of large spheres and dull yellow ribbons. Under each uninviting golden-white eye is a streak of olive-drab greasepaint that matches her heavy combat jacket. A navy blue bodysuit keeps her comfortable in most climates. She errs on the side of “functional” rather than “attractive”.
Personality: Take one part woman, add in two parts military father to four parts Marine training for every smart remark. Blend together, then throw away anything that isn't essential to the mission at hand. She'll get the job done and she won't leave a man behind. She was rumored to have a soft spot for cute, fuzzy things for a while, but that information was lost and "proven" wrong when she went rabbit hunting and proceeded to blow the rabbit's head clean off with a well-placed round.
Abilities:
Ki Strike: By channeling her physical energy into her limbs the instant before a strike, Reyna can increase the force of any unarmed strike by a time and a half.
Ki Shot: Even though her guns are inoperable due to having no ammunition, Reyna has learned to channel her latent ki into her magazines and is capable of releasing “bullets” that are, in all respects, arrows made of energy that act identically to real arrows. She can release one shot per post and must “reload” clips after eight shots. (Three when fighting another player) Reloading takes three uninterrupted posts.
Hand-to-Hand: Raised by a military father, Reyna learned from a young age how to take care of herself in a fight. She has skill greater than the average fighter in various forms of unarmed combat including karate, judo, and submission techniques.
Rifleman: With her rifle retrofitted to fire her unique shots, her accuracy has fallen to that of an average bowman. She can reliably hit a stationary target at fifty paces, but moving targets are shakier at 3/4 of that range.
Equipment:
Combat uniform – offers slightly more protection than your average clothing
Combat Jacket – Heavy cotton/nylon
Combat Cargos – More pockets than should be necessary
Combat boots – Made to be abusedCombat Knife (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:KA-BAR.jpg) – Standard-issue KA-BAR knife, twelve inches long with seven-inch blade and five-inch grip.
M-4 Carbine – No ammo, but still functions via Ki-shot.
Binoculars – Good for doubling her visible range. Also equipped with a night-vision module that is currently non-functioning.
History:
It wasn’t pretty. It never is. What started out as a traditional HALO insertion in a “peaceful” part of the pacific showed us why we do what we do. I was first out of the hatch… and damn lucky at that. The jump light was green, so we went… how were we supposed to know our pilot had turned coat? Then again, what else could we expect from a flyboy?
It was night, and there was no moon to be seen behind the thick clouds. That’s why we chose this night for it. Maybe it was why he chose this night for the raid. They were MIGs, and like always, there were two of them. Jason, the third jumper, was the last one to make it out before the devil paid us a visit. I don’t think the pilot knew they were planning on taking down the whole plane. All I can remember over the headset was some sort of Korean, then someone screamed and our ride wasn’t there anymore.
They couldn’t see us—we could only see them thanks to their engines—but chutes would give us away. It was going to hurt, but it was better than dying.
“Black one to Black two and three, we’re going into the LZ hot and heavy. Pop’em at 7500 and pray for the best. Maybe the devil will cut us a break this time.”
Because we really were doing the devils work. The mission was simple: go in, clean house, and the hilo will bring you home. I made my decision before my feet hit the ground and bullets started flying.
“Scrap the mission boys, I don’t think big daddy’s comin’ to bring us home after this. We’ve got no CommO and our Demo probably enjoyed that fireball the MIGs gave us. Let’s show them how a Marine deals with a SNAFU!”
I still don’t know how it happened. AK-47s opened up from our target before we even hit the dirt, but the three of us still managed to survive. Or, at least I think we all survived. The last thing I remember was a bright… flash. Next thing I know I’m falling out of a hole in the sky and my parachute’s still deployed. Oh, it’s also the middle of the day in the middle of nowhere. I somehow managed to survive the fall again, but it’s strange. I have no idea where I am or how I got here.
I do know one thing, though. If I ever get back home, I’m killing whatever bastards did this to me.