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Desirable Hunter

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                                            [[xxxxxxxxxxxxxxCreation from the Mind of bippa-san]]


                                            Name: Valen Raige Sonand, and I'm also known as La Volpe.
                                            Age: Twenty-seven, and getting older. I can already hear my bones creaking.
                                            Gender: Male. I ... was hoping that of all things would be obvious ...
                                            Race: Are you kidding me? Human! Common sense people, an alien can't look as good as I do.
                                            Role: One of the renowned human militia leaders.
                                            Gender Preference: At the moment, I couldn't care less, but I'm a little bit busy to be partaking in such carnal delights.

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                                            How I'm described: Ever since a young age, Valen has had a very calm, laid back personality. In his opinion a problem can always be fixed, but not if you're too serious or stressed about doing so. Life is too short, especially with the arrival of the Annunaki on earth. That's not to say that he isn't worried, especially for the wellbeing of the soldiers in his militia -- of course not. Valen, as immature and childish as it may seem, feels that there is more value to laughter than to tears or frustration. For this reason the other militia leaders may not take him very seriously, but they can't help but accept the fact that if anyone can improve morale it's Valen. He considers himself and his army as a group or guild of thieves, bandits and spies. They're close-knit and even have a blackboard listing who is leading in terms of skill and success, encouraging competitiveness within their ranks. Again, other leaders would probably disagree with the young man's tactics, but he could care less for their opinions. And that in itself is another trait: he is rebellious and not at all self-conscious. Unless he's actually seeking it out, he'll rarely take advice to heart. Being very physically active can relate to his love of speed and his habit of being incredibly impatient. Unless he's had a few drinks and a cigarette or two, Valen finds it difficult to sit down and participate in a meeting. He loves to be up and about and doing something. When in such a state it's especially hard for him to get a job done, though he'll begin several. The leader is also relatively stubborn and outright rude - while he won't mean it to sound quite so cold, he's prone to making remarks about another person's flaws and insecurities. However he does enjoying seeing a person's weaknesses. It allows him to get closer to them and to disect them piece by piece: their emotions, their fears, their history - all for him to know and to use, but also to protect. For instance, while he understands his younger brother's fears and may occasionally tease him about it, he'd never let anyone else do so. As he becomes more comfortable in his position of militia leader, he has steadily become more outspoken, going so far as to openly challenge the plans of other militia leaders and make crude statements about their strategic capabilities.

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                                            My life's story: He can still remember the way the world was before the Annunaki retaliated. The world was green, and the cities glowed like spilled firefly lanterns at night ... he'd play with his father and brothers in the dimming afternoon, climbing trees, being yelled at by mother when he leapt across to the roof of their house. His family originated in Italy with his grandparents, but his mother moved out to America thirty or so years ago, where she met his father. To Valen, his life was a good one - a slow process evolving from a boy into a man, but it was always enjoyable. So kind and cosy, even, that he was beginning to think that the rest of life would be this straightforward. But all of this changed when the cities came out of the water and attacked. Almost instantly the war was lost; the defensive forces had no knowledge about their enemy and thus their strategies weren't effective at all; if anything they were rushed and panicked. People fled to all sorts of places then. He and his fratello (brother) Tobias made it underground; his three other brothers hadn't survived make the escape. Neither did their madre or any of their grandparents. However, Valen's padre had. In fact he'd done better than that. As a high-ranking officer in the military who had only just retired from his position, he still wielded all of his vicious knowledge about warfare and survival. The people flocked to him. In a short number of months, they elected him as their militia leader, and he trained them in areas such as stealth, speed, flexibility and assassination. Valen believed his padre's view of battle was realistic. He preferred guerrilla tactics over anything - the sort of fight where if you have to only shoot once, but if you hit 'em and save a bullet, then that's better. But more importantly than both of those was the rule to never be seen ... or rather, don't let 'that one guy who did see you' live long enough to tell his mates.

                                            And so the training began. Valen was pushed more harshly than most other soldiers not simply because he had the potential (which he did -- or at least, Valen likes to think so) but because his padre was a protective man and didn't want to see his eldest son injured, killed or captured. They made their base an underground carpark, the entrance to which was sealed using a number of explosives, and the only exits being through the sewers. This little haven gave their militia and the families who hovered around them as many as three large storeys to make use of, as well as the vehicles that people had left behind in the rush.

                                            He was twenty-two when all of this happened, Tobi being a meagre fifteen years of age then. As they began to push back against the aliens, firing down on them from the rickety skeletons of buildings or by planting bombs in the roads they were known to pass over during routine patrols, Valen joined with his father in saying that the youngest living Sonand could not throw his life away in battle -- even now, that belief hasn't stopped, and Tobias is lucky to have even left the carpark in the last five years. Valen saw himself as being quite the opposite, however - he was mature, cunning, and fit. All that was required when it came to facing the Annunaki scum on the surface. Right? Unfortunately, the rules for going outside did not ban traits such as over-confidence and competitiveness. A year after having first been attacked by the aliens, Valen lost his right eye due to shrapnel from one of their grenades. It took him some time to become accustomed to the weakness, and ever since he has been hitting harder and harder -- the want for vengeance can be a stunning source of determination and ferocity.

                                            Three more years rolled on by. Valen was now twenty-six years of age, and Tobi was eighteen. Their padre had grown physically weaker and slower due to a number of injuries over the years, but insisted on going out during missions to give support and raise morale. As a result no one was surprised when news arrived of the militia leader's death. Another election was held shortly after their mourning period and much to his shock, the people had voted for him: Valen, eldest son to the previous leader. Tempted as he was to refuse the honour and remind the fellow militia members that this was not some sort of monarchy, he wanted to prove himself as a capable, intelligent commander. He accepted the role of power, but surrounded himself with wise members of their force for advice. Valen also encouraged more and more communication between himself and the other two militia leaders so that, if it was ever required, he could learn the opinion of an experienced role model. Also, on a much more serious note, that they would hopefully become attached to him to the point where they would rescue his army from between a rock and a hard place -- if it was ever necessary.

                                            His nickname and code-name La Volpe, which means 'the fox' in Italian, was derived from a rather odd incident where they found a fox in the sewers. It was half-dead, so his soldiers brought it back to camp in hopes of getting a meal. Valen rejected this, finding an odd attachment to the bony creature. They helped it to recover, but the fox was a shy creature and often fled, returning only every-once-in-a-while for more food and some social satisfaction. Within a month or so's time it stopped visiting and they found its body in the sewers -- it had swallowed something 'unpleasant'. Whether it had choked or been poisoned, Valen wasn't sure and wasn't looking forward to learning about. After hearing a comment from one of his followers about how he himself was like a fox: 'cunning, sly, cheeky, and usually hungry enough to eat something that obviously should be checked first', Valen rolled his eyes and attached the animal's orange-brown tail to his belt, where it now rests against his left hip. He did this not only to satisfy his soldiers' humour but also to remind himself of an old friend, and to make him stand out as an individual to his men if they ever need him.


                                            Last minute notes: 'Leader Sonand', as very few people refer to him nowadays, favours guerrilla and close-combat warfare over anything else like his padre - and also because he feels significantly less confident aiming with only one eye, despite the fact that most do this anyway to make their shots even more accurate. As such he arms himself with weapons such as a single-edged sword, a handgun for emergencies, and a sniper rifle dressed with a bayonet.
                                            A favorite song: Reprisal Man of Steel Remix

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Desirable Hunter

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                                            [[xxxxxxxxxxxxxxCreation from the Mind of bippa-san]]


                                            Name: Tobias Lase Sonand. My brother sometimes calls me 'bambino', which means 'little man'.
                                            Age: Nineteen -- rather young, I guess. Yet with all the bloodshed, I'm lucky to have lived so long.
                                            Gender: You ... you mean that ...? ... uh, I'm a male. Did you really need me to clarify that or did Valen put you up to this?
                                            Race: Strictly human, though there have been times I wish I could change that ... what, is it a bad thing to wish you didn't have to sleep underground?
                                            Role: Militia member. I don't really want to be a part of the fight but I want to keep an eye on my brother. He's stubborn but he needs all the support he can get.
                                            Gender Preference: W-... what? So crude ... I'm not certain, I've never really had the chance to think about it.

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                                            How I'm described: Being a relatively young militia member has had a toll on Tobias’ psyche. As the younger brother of its leader, Valen Sonand, he is viewed as some sort of ‘prize to protect’ by his older sibling and thus isn’t allowed to participate much in the warfare itself. This has left the younger Sonand perpetually trapped in a state of feeling useless and clumsy, despite having the potential to be something greater. He lacks his brother’s confident and social nature -- rather they’re opposites, with Tobias preferring to be alone with his work. When among people he is very quiet and tense. He lacks the communication skills to spark a lively, laidback and simple conversation, even people who he has known for a relatively long time. It could be debated that the only person that he’s absolutely comfortable with his older brother, although there are others throughout the camp that he is willing to speak with. He enjoys his work -- that is, repairing and enhancing electronics and machinery such as computers and radios. While he stands out in the militia for not being able to use a weapon effectively, people also respect his trade and let him work in peace because of it. Unlike Valen, Tobias is not at all excitable; he is very calm and logical, practically all of the time. Even with the arrival of good news, he’ll just smile and nod his head. He can work on a project for days on end without tiring due to a very determined and cool nature. It’s rare to see him become flustered if things ‘simply aren’t working out’. He’s mature, and while he has difficulty being sympathetic or emotional, he does not go out of his way to make others uncomfortable in their own skin. Tobias is a coward when it comes to confrontation and depending on the situation will either change the subject or run away -- even if the change is something he desires. He is a worshipper and wants to join the Annunaki for a happier lifestyle, yet if he ever saw an alien he would most likely try to flee. He is also exhausted of the stubbornness of his brother and the other militia leaders and wishes that they could see the benefits behind surrendering and joining with the aliens. Being emotionally detached as he is, and having been raised in an area where survival is key, Tobi will have no issues morally if it ever came to deceiving his brother into joining forces with the Annunaki … or, if it ever came to it, killing the older Sonand. As a human being he must work to preserve what’s left of his species, and if one man must die to save a thousand more, then so be it.

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                                            My life's story: Before the war, Tobias lived in a reasonably stable household of seven - sharing it with his two parents, two brothers and sister. It was somewhat uncomfortable, but that was the sort of strain he was accustomed to, and welcomed even. As pesky as his older siblings were, they could also slip into the roles of being his best friends at times. Recalling such memories also brings on the craving for fresh grass against the soles of your feet, or maybe for the smell of madre's perfumes rather than fuel and sewage mixed together. The aliens were ruthless in their invasion, but what else could he do, besides run and hope that he would survive? When resting, the younger brother to La Volpe is haunted by nightmares, twisted recollections of what could of happened. For instance if he stayed by his sister's side when she fell and twisted her ankle, or if he had somehow managed to locate their madre

                                            Last minute notes: <<anything else you want to add>>
                                            A favorite song: <<theme song? Optional>>

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Desirable Hunter

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█████████████████████████████████ v a l e nxxr a i g exxs o n a n d

                                      What a miserable place. Aliens or no aliens, he was certain that Italy would be in a much more ‘habitable’ condition, even in winter. He had never been there but his madre had told him stories about the distant country repetitively. And putting together the pieces of the puzzle that he could remember, the brunette had to assume that it didn’t snow in Italy. If it did, it’d be far away from the coast. Ah … he could practically feel the warm, salty breezes kissing his neck and face. How long had it been since he’d seen the ocean? Too long ... and the militia leader could not promise that the sea was even blue anymore. Hazel eyes fluttered open, and then slid up to gaze at the ceiling. The concrete was mostly obscured by pipes and wiring, but he could make out the cracks in the flattened grey surface, even in this darkness. ‘How much longer is this going to last?’ he asked himself, furrowing his brow. The buildings above could only take so much pressure. Soon enough, the aliens would probably decide to demolish this place, and what then? They were like mice faced with two traps: leave, and possibly never survive the escape. Stay, and be crushed by the skeleton of mankind’s engineering above. But the question was … how long? Cazzoriposarsi, pezzo di cretino! I’ll have to ask the other leaders. Maybe they’ll have more skills in surveying than myself.” There were no guards to listen in on his conversation, which made the man even more obliged to throw his troubles away. “But there’s no rush. That Annunaki bastardo won’t be down here for a while yet, and I’m sure this building will last a very long time yet. It’s only been five years.”

                                      The man known as La Volpe sunk into his chair, resting his boots upon the table edge. Five years. When the war had begun, presidents, prime ministers and monarchies agreed that the ‘cleaning process’ would take a few weeks, a month or so at most. They’d underestimated their enemy. Of course they had! Governments couldn’t be trusted! They were good at starting wars. Quando verrà fuori tutto il casino, and they were tired of playing ... well, that was when trouble occurred, because they just couldn’t finish those battles. “And look at our proud leaders now!” La Volpe laughed to himself, shuffling in his seat to cross his legs at the ankles. “Either they’re rotting in ditches or kissing those Annunaki feet. At last, Fate punishes the wicked and the power-hungry! But in these times … She also has a wicked sense of humour.” He couldn't help but smile out of bitterness. How many of the military's weapons remained? A few, knowing human beings. There would always be another gun, another missile, another nuke. And for all of his luck, maybe he could even get to them. But could he work them? Of course not. Because the fate of humanity was always placed in the hands of selected people: those types who might as well have painted a target on their foreheads. Cazzo,” he swore again.

                                      But now was no time to be upset over what couldn’t be fixed. God knows, he had enough time to whimper about their military disadvantages after he laid down to sleep. For now, he had duties that needed to be tended to. Unlike the men from just half a decade ago, this youth – Valen Raige Sonand – couldn’t afford to shrug off his duties for another hour’s sleep. Moving his feet so that the soles of his boots – which were unfortunately dirty, but he hadn’t thought about that when putting them on the table – were resting against the counter edge, he pushed his chair back and then rose. Standing took a surprising amount of effort. Whether it was due to fatigue or drunkenness, La Volpe wasn’t certain, but he wasn’t a man who generally cared for the source of problems – unless it involved the Annunaki High Templar, but that was about the only exception. He glanced around at his environment once more. The shelter his padre and he had built was quite small, no larged than a medium-sized caravan at best. It had been crafted from scrap metal collected from the abandoned cars at the parking lot in a tent-like formation, structured around a concrete pole that supported the carpark. The ‘living room’ area, which consisted of a table, a few chairs and some radio equipment (which most likely didn’t work due to an alarming lack of batteries) had no roof. They had to spare all of the resources for what was really necessary after all. Such a realist lifestyle almost made him envy his former self: the teenager who had spent his time trying to prove his ‘parkour’ skills at the skate park and almost losing his facial features on the asphalt.

                                      Not that his typical situation had changed much; it was practically identical, only that he was trying to avoid alien gunfire as well.

                                      One of the militia members that was patrolling the parking lot nodded to him as he exited his metal hut, and he returned the gesture. He wasn’t certain about the other leaders but in his opinion, the old formalities of professional armies were now useless. Everything was about respect and friendship; a tight-knit relationship that their enemies lacked … perhaps. From what he’d seen, they adored their ‘High Templar’ more than anything else in the world. “They’re pretty blind,” he commented to himself in a very soft but notable accent, once he had passed the other soldier. But then again, who was he to talk? Ninety-nine point nine per cent of human beings had also been very, very blind up until the minute that the Annunaki chose to rise out of the water and attack.

                                      A few young women waved to him as he walked by, eventually trudging down the slope that would lead further and further below. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, but he was fairly certain that the other leaders and his advisors wouldn’t need him; if they did, they could always send a messenger to notify him. The soldiers in the area would be helpful enough in sharing which direction Valen had travelled in, he was sure. Then again, many of the men and women here drank like adults and acted like children. He’d be genuinely furious if he couldn’t empathise with them; they fought to live, but they only survived. There was little happiness left. So they drowned away their sorrows in something cheap and hoped that would keep them from the edge for a little bit longer. Hell, he too would be as blind as a bat if not for the duties that weighed down on him. Vado e torno; I’m going out, just for a quick walk,” he corrected himself to speak in English instead, gesturing to the soldier who stood beside a rather ominous tunnel on the lowest floor of the carparks. How it got there he wasn’t sure. Maybe it had been the work of his padre, or some weapon owned by the Annunaki that they were still unaware of. “I’ll be back soon. I have my TCR with me in case of an emergency.”

                                      Even for him there were rules about whether or not he could leave. He had to be prepared with equipment that would provide communication to their ‘base’, which was generally what the carpark was referred to when not being called ‘the hole’. He also needed weapons and some basic first aid. A roll of bandage, tweezers, needles and thread appropriate for stitching wounds closed could be found in the numerous pockets attached to his belt, as well as his ‘TCR’: a handheld tactical communications radio. He’d plucked it off the waist of some fallen soldier when he, his padre and his fratello were first making their escape. It was useful, despite the energy it used to keep the instrument alive. As for his weapons, his knives were strapped to a brace around his torso. His sword hung at his left hip, the fox tail draped over its sheath, and his handgun rested at his right. He had chosen to leave the sniper at his home.

                                      The guard nodded and he passed through, immediately taking notice of the difference between the flat concrete and the rough, crumbling texture of the tunnel-floor. Soon enough even that luxury was gone, replaced with the slush of the sewers. Immediately he lifted a hand to his nose, stifling a cough. “God,” he cursed at the stench. As he grumbled beneath his breath, he saw something moving ahead and instinctively froze, reaching for his pistol. Valen’s hazel eyes squinted, straining to see in the darkness of the man-made caverns, but he relaxed when he saw the tousles of brown hair. It was another human. As the youth got closer, La Volpe recognised him and slumped completely. “Kevin, bambino, you had me worried. What are you doing down here by yourself?”

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                                      here is my wall of text~ hope you like it~!

                                      translations
                                      i don't know the first thing about italian so please don't hold me to this. translated using word reference.
                                      madre - mother
                                      cazzoriposarsi, pezzo di cretino! - f*ck ... relax, you fool!
                                      bastardo - b*****d
                                      quando verrà fuori tutto il casino - when sh*t hit the fan
                                      padre - father
                                      vado e torno - i'll be back in a minute
                                      fratello - brother
                                      bambino - kid / little man
bippa-san's avatar

Desirable Hunter

bippa-san's avatar

Desirable Hunter

bippa-san's avatar

Desirable Hunter

bippa-san's avatar

Desirable Hunter

bippa-san's avatar

Desirable Hunter

what's the bet that either Dai or Gaz see this?
bippa-san's avatar

Desirable Hunter

bippa-san's avatar

Desirable Hunter

blahddyblah
bippa-san's avatar

Desirable Hunter

bippa-san's avatar

Desirable Hunter

bippa-san's avatar

Desirable Hunter

bippa-san's avatar

Desirable Hunter

bippa-san's avatar

Desirable Hunter

damn give me a new page already

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