Spoiler: The Nature of this Rp It is GM Ave yet further. Ressurect the mechanisms en roleplay Spoiler: Rules of the Roleplay 1. All massivecrafters are welcom 2. GM Ave's word is final 3. Amid even my other roleplays, lethality is INCREDIBLY HIGH, expect to die if fortunes ebbs, and be wounded severely even amid the boons. Making multiple characters and new characters is encouraged. 4. This is NOT Aloria 5. No anime characters, or Sues 6. The rule system is an admixture of Fate, Torus, and a distinct system. In oppose to prior games, some measure of rules minutiae will be interred, yet most rolls will be Gm, provided you state your intents. 7. Talking is a free action unless annulled. 8. Use details, the motion of your body, the way devices are placed on you. 9. INvokes can alter a scene, or modify it, but the GM has invokes he can use against the players. Miles-long carcasses fuse with the sinewy soil. Towering hills follow you with their glowing, restless eyes. Cavernous, toothed orifices hide allmanners of twisted creatures. A vast, grotesque expanse of bone, skin, cartilage and meat, sometimes interrupted by rivers and lakes of bile, blood, and other noxious humours. Legends tell of an ancient time, when the world was different. Some say that if one were to dig deep enough, underneath all the flesh and bone and sinew, they would find enigmatic remains of what was before. But how, and why did things change? No one knows. Some say it was the will of a God; others believe it was the work of the ageless titans known as Dragons, or the Behemoths beyond them. Others claim there was nay an oth world, that the salt scented sky and lipid strewn cappliaries under the morass of regenerative rot is but deeper and deeper life, accursed and fetid in it's unending fecundity. From plains of bone, to the pools of optics, and sinewed canyons tensing and untensing to unknown commands. A misted sky, oft pungeant and humid, or dry and strewn with caustic salts. A world which is very much alive and tends to behave as a creature,driven by unfathomable logic. The fleshscape is always shifting, following the labyrinthine vision of an alien conscience. A bizarre, unforgiving ecosystem, embodying the alien intelligence of the world itself. A land of monsters... and a land of the countless clans of men. With eons wearing forth like the mars amid a bonetree, came the eras of artifacts mastered and cultured en mass through vat and controlled cancers woven into industries. INdustrial crafting of skins, sinews and synapses into vast conjurances alive yet still of mind. Woven of errant lives and eons of duresses. With ages further and reclamation of the living plains came advancement further. From one living plateau amid the void of reagents and aetheric biles came arterial stars and great craft of enamel coated glider limbs and caustic maws assembled with a madman's view of any creature. Behemoths and Dragons of prior ages tamed with tumour and nerve sundering into pliable beasts. This is the art of moulding mastered and mass produced in vat wombs and vast creches. From these came society in turn, from clans to clades of innumerate races and breeds genefused into vast assembleges and guilds that breath, bile and vigour amid the very heavens. From savagery, society in turn and then came forth guns and arms of keratin and woven plates of bone that breath slow, horrid breaths. To any stranger, to you they are the living pulse of the warrior and the wanderer. From one world came innumerate covered in countless people, and from them came we. The fighting spawn, woven of the series, the Formori, the broken and undaunted. We are the formori, admixtured and assembleges of flesh for the sake of task and war. Not slaves, not armigers for strange powers. Free and low clans in turn. We come in countless breeds, lacking a standard but the hematoma, a cluster of neural cells, reproductive matter and metabolic cancers, our cores astrewn somewhere near or in the body. Even the most maimed Formori can return from a core that's still living, a cluster of semi specialized stem cells and micro-autophagic glands that when vatted can reform and remake a body, slowly and unpleasantly over time. A noxious project that leaves mental wear. Yet with such came us, the immortal legions broken and remade constantly. This is the nature of fighting and work, eternal life in torment and profit . We are the luckiest of the unlucky bastards of broken genes and the REGROWTH System that keeps us eternal. To the pulsing stars with us, reclamation, expansion and war in turn. To the heavens shod in veins, for profit and what glories we can find. We are clad in ages of millitant evolution and countless shapes, from integrated mortar teams The nature of us is simple. We are the war clans of an empire clad in sinew and pus, a world of flesh from ancient and unknown processes before. Your gun, your armour, your rations and yourself are just the products of machines of organic gears and plates of keratin.. We vary, from vatborn inhumans to eugenic clans of human exemplars with bonehard muscles and harmonic communicators long grown from sound feeding worms. Everything is organic, what few metals in existance clad machines that eat errant stones and detritus, tanks of limbs and hissing mechanisms that expell distorted breath rich with the scent of blood. Hungering and vast fleets of flesh and ichorous veins maintain great bladder strewn cities that hang in the warm void. ANd here we are, fighting for empire-tribes and great craft that bar the genes hammered into new shapes and those skinned stars of rock and earth new to use, distant from the arterial stars. We hunt in ages of flesh and new metal hewn together in sinew and breathing ships that hold breath and ferment wind. We are the formori, and we've career and clan to uphold. We are the hunters, the builders and another cluster of sentient viruses that fight other viruses in the living universe. TECHNOLOGY- The mercenary or Formori is itself a constantly shifting often vaguely hominidae biomechanical warrior, labourer, and project. Keratin finds use as armour and blade edge, neuron wired communicators and biolumithic and glowing patches finding use in ships, tanks, and buildings, from great throbbing and membrane clad bacteria vats for rations, to great vien minors that tap the organic plasma of heart stars with undulating filaments. Plastic is rare but finds basic use where even the hardiest biomatter is unused and artifical mechanisms, repeating bile and bone shard firing rifles find use in war and organic crawling explosives are ubiquitous. Armour and organization varies from thick skins to armoured plating more built for a behemoth and genewelded ontot he hide and supplanted with symbiotic plating. War ranges from packs of synaptically linked hunter-killers to line and rank of mutagenic brutes kept in path by whip and drug injection. Ships tend toward the dichotomy of vast sized hive and wombcraft and swarms of smaller (Relatively) craft that undulate and swarm. What in another realm would be still and lifeless often undulates and crawls, melts into the flesh or stares with primitive eyes. Vehicles covered in blisters of optics, war banners and great organic wheels of chiton or rare living metal are utilized as tanks. Oxygen is generated from those rare craft that don't just filter from the cosmos itself, or convert thermal plumes into air fodder. Life is eternal if not snuffed and formori themselves vary immeasurably from carapace clad albino cave operations brutes, to tailed bog assassins with spines optical guns, to organic sensors spanned masses of void bearing artillery that float at the edge of a breathsphere and rain hell. From personal equipment comes rare use of organically smithed metal, plastics and living armaments woven of leathers and bone. All surrounding a REGROWTH Core of smart cancers taht preserve data and memories. with time and proper, if variable conditions you can plant and let a regiment reform and regenerate as needed. With centuries of experience come utility. Most warriors that aren't gathered from a clan or vat creche freshly, are used to being transposed out of their innate frame into something stranger. Getting blow to pieces, poisoned and ruined only to revive is just part of the job. MISSION (TO BE LARNED IC) NAME AND UNIT HISTORY (GET CREATIVE) TYPE AND SPECIALIZED BIOLOGICAL BASE (ex- MAGNUS OPNA VOID SUPPORT CLUSTER, Reptillian species base) Biology- Personality (Get some depth to this) Core location) SKills (Military) Ex- Rifleman, fencer, sapper, can actually find eatables, Skills (PErsonal) Equipment Backstory (From origin to prior conflicts) Abilities not covered in the above- Callsign.