hiboy2004

Armani was dieing. It hit him like a bullet, actually, it was a bullet that hit him. A unseen sniper in the forward treeline has caught him in the leg with a well placed bullet, and he was dieing. Dieing isn't something most people like to think about, but when pressed into it, you can't help but reminisce.

Why did he leave his home? Some false sense of pride and defending his country drove him out of his country, and into the deepest pit of hell. He ran away and joined his local militia, against his mother and his father's wishes. And now he was dieing for it. Armani would die a killer, alone on a barren battlefield. His allies had been driven back by the U'Tuk's forces, and they couldn't waste time carrying their fallen comrades. So they left him, alone, to die, alone.

He thought about that, the fact that he was going to die alone. Then he thought of all the people who would die because he was dead. He knew something, something that could prevent a massacre of massive proportions. But now, all hope was lost for Muthanga (moo-tahn-geye), hundreds of innocent, and some not so innocent, people would die. And they would be as alone and desperate as he was. As the blood flowed from an open wound he was too tired to attend to, his mind started to wander. Whether from blood loss or lack of caring, he blacked out, never to wake again.

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Now, if you've made it this far, you must have alot of questions. Well, all will be explained in due time, but here is a brief overview of what has happened so far;

1. Armani is dieing.

2. He is alone, dieing alone, for his comrades left him to save their own skin.

3. He knows something they don't, and they are going to die for it, maybe.

4. Armani died.

So, that in mind, lets begin. The setting of this roleplay is in the fictional nation of Kuya (koo-yah). This nation is like that of Sudan, in that it is currently fighting a Civil war. The U'tuks, a major political party in Kuya, started a war with the tribal peoples of the North, the Opoliks. The Opolik leaders had spoken out against the U'tuks numerous times, and it had led to the point of riot. So the U'Tuk's took charge in their country, and tried to stop the rioting and unrest in their northern territory.

In an epic event known simply as "Death", the U'Tuk's open fired on a mob of unarmed Opoliks, killing over one hundred, and wounding nearly three times that. The Opolik leaders were outraged, and convinced every tribe to send it's best warriors to come to the capital of Muthanga, to be armed and outfitted for war.

SO! Now that you know slightly what is happening, we can get to the good part: the character sheet. I hate character sheet. It is a disgrace to roleplaying and is a lazy persons cheap out for actual writing. So, instead of a character sheet, YOU, the roleplayer, should describe your character in your first post. But before you can do that, you need to know what your character choices are.

We will be a group of Guerrillas. We're the poor peasants from the village who obtained weapons from the armory at Muthanga, and joined a elite group of fighters to vanquish the enemy. Now, elite is a very vague word in this case, because elite to the Opolik people is about par to most people. So we're not superhuman saviours that have unlimited ammo that can destroy everyone with one shot. This is realistic, not a sci-fi, one shot kill roleplay.

Oh, and with your naming, make it sound tribal. Armani is a stretch, it's more Italian, but I'm not too picky with naming. But your name can't be George Brett, or something of the like. Be creative.

So without further adu, let us begin. Oh, I forgot. I'll say this once, and anyone who doesn't follow this rule will be denied.


You must PM me to join. No exceptions.

No exceptions. Everyone must PM me their introduction, so I can judge and tell you what to correct.

NOW, lets really begin.

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Kumer (Koo-mere) held his AK-47 tightly to his chest, afraid one of these bigger men will take it from him. He was the elected leader of this elite group of fighters, the Touregs, but that still didn't mean he wasn't short. 5'6 to be exact. The average hight of an Opolik was 6'4, so he was a little subpar in that category. But what he lacked in height he made up for in intelligence. He was considered wise by the people of his village, so they sent him away to fight for them. Not a good choice on their part, but who's counting?

He sat down on a bench, nearly falling over as the sound of artillery being fired boomed from only 20 feet behind him. He placed his weapon, his father's AK-47, in his lap. It was his prized possession, his Father had used it in the defense of his home village, Yuma. It was deadly accurate, he shot it at least 3 times a day since he received notice he was going to war. If he was going to fight, he was going to be good at it.

It was very humid in Muthanga, which sat deep in the middle of a Jungle. His glasses, handcrafted by a lenscraft back in Yuma, fogged up from the humidity. He repeatedly had to wipe them off, and wipe his long black hair from his eyes. An annoyance almost as bad as the mosquitoes. Wait, I take that back, it wasn't even close to the mosquitoes. Constantly swatting at them and them biting him was BEYOND annoying. But he was a soldier, his tough guy attitude had to prevail. He can't complain, because that's a sign of weakness. He'll see more signs of weakness before this adventure is over, and they won't be from him.


((Ok, PM me your introductions, we'll begin when we get enough people that I see fit. Thanks for reading, and I hope you want to join.))

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