HL2RP Authorizations Applications [TEMPORARY]

[TorrentGamer ?Romney2012]

THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS! DO NOT CHECK UNIIL THIS IS GONE!

Player Section
Steam Name: --[NOTHING]--
Age: 16
How long have you been Roleplaying? (can be any game): About, 2 years.
How long have you been playing Serious GMod RP?: Roughly speaking, about a year.
Character Section
Authorization(s): One 9MM handgun /w three 9MM clips.
Name: Johnathan McDonald
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Affiliation: Anti-Citizen
Write a detailed in-canon back-story how your character obtained these authorizations.

[/b] PART 0: CITY TROUBLES [/b]

Soon after the portal storms, when all of the nations of earth had fallen,adn the combine took offical rule, Johnathan McDonald was
another citizen, transported through the once Russia to City 15. He soon arrived off the train, asking one of the units about the
where-abouts of his origonal girfriend -


What will these authorizations give your character in regards to perks or defects?
What do you plan to do with these perks/defects?
Will anyone else need these auths? (If so, list OOC and IC name(s))
Extra Notes (optional):

Denied, you cannot post work in progresses here. Please reapply when the full application is completed.

[The Mysterious Stranger]

Player Section

Steam Name: Rioteer

Age: 15

How long have you been Roleplaying? (can be any game): 3 years.

How long have you been playing Serious GMod RP?: 2 years.

Character Section

Authorization(s): Shotgun shells (5 packs), Pistol rounds (5 packs).
Crossbow and a few crossbow bolts (3 packs)
Crossbow Authority
If the crossbow does not get accepted, the AR2 and Pulse rounds (3 - 4 packs) will exchange that.
Civil Protection suit (torn up, 50% of worn-out kevlar, scratched mask.)
If the suit does not get accepted, the refugee model will exchange that. Male Refugee model, group 02, male 09.
v flag authority. (lower cap.)

Name: Jake Kingstone
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Affiliation: Rebel or Anti-citizen

Write a detailed in-canon back-story how your character obtained these authorizations.

 Shotgun shells, Pistol rounds, crossbow and crossbow bolts, crossbow authority.
 Jake Kingstone was out of the outlands by now, thinking of his friends and what dangers would cross them and even his own soul. His boots crumpled against the hard sand like crunchy leaves as he made his way to some broken vehicle seen in the distance. He dropped his backpack to the side and kneeled down, examining the broken vehicle parts and what caused the accident. He then spotted a arsenal crate, he looked around and noticed a metallic bar. He crawled over to it and grabbed it, then leveled it underneath the crate and start to use it as a lever. Pulling down, the cover popped open and a jackpot was seen. Shotgun shells and pistol rounds, which would be great use for some survival against any enemies that would criss-cross his adventures... and some crossbow bolts held in a plastic wrapping, many of them with the sticker "HEAT THE BOLTS LIKE A STOVE," which gave out a clue what they were used for. He looked for any other arsenal crates but they were all cracked open, possibly looted from many other refugees. He rose himself to his feet and cornered around the buggy, he then noticed a dead rebel laying by it, in his hand was a weapon - crossbow manufactured from scraps - which was a crossbow. He then wiped his face in eagerness and yet grabbed the crossbow, putting it to his side. The rebel had a kevlar suit but it was badly shot up by some type of unearthed weapon, the AR2 ofcourse. He grabbed the crossbow and hesitated "I gotta' take this from you, you had hard times with it and I am goin' to face some hard times with it too. I hope you had a better experience in that world than you had in this world. Rest in peace, buddy-o." He grabbed his duffelbag and slouched it against his back, overlayed by a large backpack. Crossbow held in hand and yet the ammunition that rumbled in his duffelbag. A long journey was held torwards him.

 A non-mankind made weapon. The AR2. - AR2
 Coming across another unfamiliar incident, this time it was a broken APC vehicle. A few shrapnel layed around it as overwatch units were layed around it, even the gunner was... well, let's put it this way, incapacitated (body limbs taken off or injured) Jake watched in disgust as he noticed a AR2 weapon and yet some more arsenal crates, this time these arsenal crates didn't hold much but some pulse-rounds. A dead refugee was seen in the distance holding a paper in his hands. He grabbed the paper and noticed a single code held on it, the frequency... What could this hold?

 The code - v and Vflags:
 He held the code in his hands and started to tune the code into his radio, once done, he heared people talking until a loud voice was heard. "Who are you and what are you doin' on OUR frequency?" "I found your... guy dead. A code appeared in his hands and yet... I thought I should contact you." "What?! He's dead? What did you do?!" "I did nothin'... Look, I am sorry for your friend but he got shot up by overwatch." "Hrm... Alright, I should owe you for this, a buggy will arrive at your area with a pack of arsenal crates, they will send it where you want it to go, even faraway. Thanks for contacting us..." He smiled and put his radio away, acquiring some resources and supplies for the future. Slowly, the radio began to shake on his jeans belt, he grasped ahold of it and began to put it against his ear. "One more thing, we'll deliver supplies DAILY and we mean DAILY, your shipments will come in day-by-day, slowly but it will do.... we hand out shipments to everyone who helps us, don't talk about where you got this... now, good luck out there..."

 The scope - Scope used for the crossbow:
 The warehouse was dark and gloomy as crickets began to let out a siren of crackling-like sounds. The warehouse was gloomy and had a feeling of peace. "Wish Dave and Skyler were here to see this..." As he looked around, he noticed a forklift that haven't worked for years and yet it would stay that way, even boxes and planks were on the ground. A garage door was pummeled with a ram, it looked like a bull rammed the garage door, due to its condition, the door itself is probably jammed. Looking around, he found a box with the writings of weapons.

 HUNTING RIFLE PACK.
 SCOPES [TWO DIFFER.]
 AMMUNITION PACKS
 TOOLS
 HUDSON BAY COMPANY, CANADA.
 ROYAL CANADIAN MILITARY PACKAGE #20934

 Opening up the pack, some of the wares weren't there. A hunting rifle was seen but it was broken, it was barely hanging together! A scope was laying by it, shiny as new. He thought of the crossbow he had earlier. He took it out and tried manufacturing the scope together, it was successful as it slid on the railing. As he heard the beeps of something, it was something alright... It was the beeps of a radio! He then felt his heart racing, he then went over to the garage and tried prying it open, doing so successfully, he crawled under the tight space which was barely open for his body. AR2 Pulse Rounds flashed and tried hitting Jake but it missed by a inch. A firefight was storming the warehouse as a shielded buggy drifted infront of him, they yelled "Get in here!", he sprinted torwards the buggy and latched onto the back. Grasping onto the pole of the buggy, he slid across the pavement as the buggy was accelerating at a rate of speedness, he held onto dear life, his legs scrambled against the moving pavement as it scorched his skin like heat! He looked behind him and noticed overwatch shooting at him, they hit him in the leg as he screamed in pain "Agggghhhh! Fuuuck! Ooohhh... That hurts like hell!", a blood trail was seen coming from his leg as it made a trail behind the buggy. He raised his crossbow slowly and pulled the trigger as the recoil was absorbed into his arm, the bolt flinged right at the unit and hit him across the head, nailing him against the wall like a poster. "Bastard..." He then tried getting onto the buggy as he threw the crossbow into the front seat, he noticed his boots sliding across the pavement. Successfully, he dragged himself in and inhaled deeply, hesitating "The fuck is wrong with you? I was slidin' across the fuckin' pavement while YOU were driving?!" "I had to, look... I won't do it again." "You better not do it again... Now, let's get outta' here."

 That uniform - Civil Protection suit:
 A few months were passed on as Jake Kingstone was still out of the outlands. He was dropped off by the stranger of the escape buggy. The sky began to darken and the rain poured over his citizen suit. The flu began to swipe into his body as his body turned cold, like the tempature bar. He started to feel some snot come out of his nostrils, his head felt more nascious as the headache appeared and yet he felt alittle weaker than before. "Urrrgghhhh... What a pain this is. I need to get back home soon but... I have a journey ahead of me." As a few hours passed, he came across some APC tracks, in the middle of those tracks was a Civil Protection unit in a dead state. Inside his neck was a crossbow bolt, which punctured the defensive collar on his uniform and went right through his neck, killing him in a slow horrid death as the jugular vein stopped working properly. After examining the unit, he dragged him into a shack as a blood trail began to appear. Inside the shack was a few tools on the wall, some were missing, as he looked around, he noticed a bed in the corner of the shack, a desk full of papers, a working bench, crates and even some gas cans that were empty. "Abandoned by its inhabitants, I sure was lucky if I wasn't one of them..." hesitating as he shook his head in shame. He then layed the unit on the table as he started to use some special tools from the bench to cut open his suit, over a few hours straight, he finally cut off the uniform and put it over himself. He looked great in a mirrow ofcourse and even disguised as one of them. The vo-coder couldn't work, one of the goggles were cracked, the bio-signal was turned off, the kevlar was almost useless and the gasmask couldn't resist the gas. It made a good piece of armor though.

 Torn out - Refugee model:
 Due to the trip out of the canals, his accidents from tripping, falling down, cutting himself, scars and scabs appearing, his hair getting dirty and never even taking a shower and shot up. His facial details were changing from before. He looked different and didn't even look like Jake anymore but his voice stayed the same.


What will these authorizations give your character in regards to perks or defects? Yes, below is a list of them.
 +Ammunition will not become scarce
 +Scope will allow sniping from close-to-far distances.
 +Fearsome when these auth's. are combined when encountering weak or small-time citizens.
 +Mask will allow protection from bullets, probably saving his life from small-caliber rounds.
 +Kevlar will allow protection from bullets, probably saving his life from small-caliber and large-caliber rounds.
 +Hungerness or Dehydration will not settle in due to the resources.
 -Tokens will begin to lower due to the price of ammunition.
 -Due to the shipments, they won't be able to come in for a few days IC'ly.
 -Overcumbered, will not be able to hold wounded or injured citizens.
 -Bigger target for enemies, including rebels.
 -Primary weapon (AR2 and crossbow) and secondary (Shotgun), including the third (Pistol) will gain more heaviness for Jake, allowing running and jumping slower.
 -Suit will allow more heaviness, causing much more heaviness, allowing running and jumping slower.
 -Perception will decrease due to the cracked goggle (Seeing sense), face cover (smelling sense).

What do you plan to do with these perks/defects? I will try to roleplay my best to act out these negative and positives, yet try my best to include them in my roleplay. These perks will be great to enhance my roleplay greatly.

Will anyone else need these auths? (If so, list OOC and IC name(s) No.

Extra Notes (optional): You can either choose the AR2 or Crossbow, the CP suit or refugee model. v flags. Your choice! I won't abuse V, v flags, trust me on that.

[agrum]

Player Section

Steam Name: Yagrum
Age: 21
How long have you been Roleplaying? (can be any game): Since 2005, 6 years.
How long have you been playing Serious GMod RP?: 2009, about 2 years now.

Character Section

Authorization(s): Medical skills, magnum, and a crossbow (4 boxes each)

Name: Grim Golten
Age: 39
Gender: Male
Affiliation: Resistance (Non-Citizen) Doctor

How your character obtained these authorizations:
      Grim Golten was born in 1977, one year before Adrian Shephard and roughly four years after Gordon Freeman. Grim's mom died during labor, so his father, an Army medic who served during the Vietnam War had to take care of him alone. Grim's dad was stationed in Europe for a little while, but decided to stay after "liking" it. Grim grew up in Eastern Europe in a city now known as City 17. Together Grim and his father, Dan Golten, lived and worked in a small two story shop. This was the shop Grim grew up in. Grim helped his dad run the shop, which sold medical supplies. When they weren't running the shop, Grim's dad would homeschool him, as Grim didn't go to a public school. Grim's dad became to know that Grim was interested in the medical world. So he started to mix in a little bit of medical school, with Grim's daily work. Over time, Grim became better and better. At age 10 Grim not only loved to learn medicine, but he became fond of marksmanship. His dad who owned a crossbow and a .357 magnum, frequently took Grim out to the forest for target practice. Grim was getting better and better at his skills. At age 20 Grim had joined several clubs for his marksmanship. He was still interested in medical activity, so he moved on to more advanced medicine. He got his dad to let him open a pharmacy in the store, in which he started his own clinic. By age 24, Grim was brewing his own medicines. Of-course the clinic was small inside his dad's shop, but they made lots of money as locals came in for checkups or supplies. Soon the Black Mesa incident happens. They find out how it was later destroyed by an atomic bomb. Grim and his Dad are worried of what is to become of it. They find out about Xen and are amazed. Together they were torn apart from reality in disbelief of what has happened. They both continue life normally, as they soon realize they need to get over it. Very soon however, there lives would be changed even more greatly.
      
      One day, Grim and his Dad, who is growing old go on their decided "Last Hunting Trip Together". They head up north towards the alpines. They then set up on a small hill where they could see the city. They camped out for the night. They were awaked by loud noises, as the sky was filled with darkness. It looked as if the sky was raining portals. The 7 Hour War was now taking place. Grim and his dad, watched all 7 hours trying to figure out what was happening. The two days they spent still in the tent. They never even went hunting as they were extremely confused. Grim that morning stepped outside. He smelled the darkened air. Then rolling through the wind, a piece of paper was flying towards him. He quickly jumped up and grabbed it. This paper was the newspaper which has explained what happened. It said how the human race had surrendered. Grim quickly ran towards the tent. He showed his dad what had happened. Grim went to bed that night, however the next morning when he woke up, it felt as if he hadn't slept at all. His dad was no where to be seen. All that laid in the tent, was food, water, blankets, the crossbow and magnum they had kept all the years (Yes, they did work on them and replaced parts, they still function good), and ammo. He also noticed a small note also. "Grim this is your dad, don't come looking for me. I have gone with your mother. I would have been a burden on you to stay. Take this supplies and keep heading North. Stay away from these "Combine", they are dangerous. You will be fine, just remember everything I taught you. -Love Dad." Grim began to cry, but he knew he had to keep his fathers word. He kept heading North.
      
      Over the years of finding his own food and supplies mainly from breaking into abandoned forest homes, Grim has still managed to save his ammo in his weapons for when he needs it. His medical skill has come in useful as he has been injured more than once. Grim had hit the Outlands. He spent several nights in a dug in hole into a concrete wall on the side of a canal. He stayed there for several nights. One day he gathered a flat piece of wood. He began putting junk he found in the canals. He soon traveled off. He found himself next to a ridge. He made a little sliver coming of the ridge where he would be safe for a couple weeks. Over time in his ridge he began to notice how dangerous things were getting. He would keep seeing combine go by or as the locals call them OTA. He began hearing gunshots, screaming, and the combine war machines. He knew he had to find someone. After exploring more of the canals, he had found signs that people had been there. He wanted to take part with humanity and help it. He just needed to find people. One day, he came close to death. He began walking into an open road. He then heard a rumble and then a loud motor noise. It was an APC. The APC came right in front of him. Grim thought it was the last thing he would see, but 4 resistance fighters popped out of the trees. They said "Get out of the way buddy!" Grim did so. He watched the 4 helpless humans fight the OTA. All 4 of the rebels had died. Grim was angry, the rebels had saved him. He knew he had to do something in return for the poor souls. He made his number one priority of finding a group.
      
      He kept walking on the same road for some time. He came across a garage which he found very useful. In this garage he found canned and dry foods. He also found parts. He tuned up his crossbow and magnum, just as he did during his first lesson with his dad, except more fast and precise. Grim knew the magnum and crossbow would stay with him and work as long as he tuned them up, so he would always check them to make sure they were in place. Then one day, he found 2 refugees. They were hiding behind two large rocks. One seemed to be shot. His medical skill kicked in. He managed to get the bullet out and save the mans life. In payment the man and the women had given him some tokens which at first he thought they were valuable (as the refugees said they were used to buy things out here.) But Grim soon found out they were worth nothing. Grim was learning much about the Outlands. He knew that maybe not right now, but soon he would have to find a place to stay... for a while. He couldn't just keep moving like this. Grim came across a small hospital which he decided to enter. He had found medical supplies... lots of it. A few miles up the road Grim saw people. He knew they weren't OTA, as for some reason they brought a warm feeling to him.
      
      Finally, Grim had found a temporary place to live. He started to know some of the locals. His first friend was a Vortigaunt who invited Grim to stay with him. Grim became fond of his new friend which he had come to call "Eli". Soon, Grim started to learn about Eli's friends. Grim became interested. He wanted to help, as they seemed to be on humanity's side. Soon, he had set up a small clinic. When the clinic is closed Grim wanders and looks for supplies. Grim is becoming better friends with these locals. He also is doing what he loves, helping people, in the clinic. Every week, Grim has to walk to the same hospital for supplies. He know he cannot keep relying on it as it will soon be out. Grim will soon need to know more about these mysterious people and how he can help humanity. For now Grim is helping people in a small area in the Outlands. He is to find out what is to happen with humanity and his fate. As he travels and comes across weird things, he still knows medicine. He also kept the magnum and crossbow all these years. Soon, he may have to use it. Grim always will remember his dad. Life goes on, in the Outlands...

What will these authorizations give your character in regards to perks or defects?
Perks: Able to conduct medical activity. Fluent and used to firing the .357 magnum and crossbow. ( Not extremely good, but above average from practice.)
Defects: Must give free medical care to anyone who needs it in outlands. (No pay)


What do you plan to do with these perks/defects?
I plan to roleplay as I normally would, except with a new skill(s) that I know is a privalage and not to abuse.


Will anyone else need these auths? (If so, list OOC and IC name(s))
No, just Grim Golten.


Extra Notes (optional): If you think a magnum, crossbow and ammo is too much. I do not think it is too much, as I will only use it incase of emergency like self defense. I am not wanting these weapons just to make my character look badass, I am wanting them because I believe they would fit my character.

[.Zynced]

Player Section

Steam Name: Zynced
Age: 15
How long have you been Roleplaying? (can be any game): 3 years
How long have you been playing Serious GMod RP?: 2 years

Character Section

Authorization(s):2 boxes of 9mm ammo, and a belt.

Name:Max Raven
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Affiliation: Rebel

Write a detailed in-canon back-story how your character obtained these authorizations.
Max Raven was born in UK, he had a nice life with his mom, father and brother Stan Raven. Stan and Max was twin brothes, and most likely helping eachother. But as soon as the combines came to the earth and invaded it all, Max and Stan got separated and their parrents died, and that caused Max to move to city 45 when he turned 20. He got to city 45 by a small boat name "The rescue", the captain of the boat was named Rosweld Markmann. Once they arrived at city 45's coast they took a train to the city, it wasn't a very warm welcome Max recieved rather a shot in his left leg, so he couldn't escape.
Max lived in a Civil Housing with many other sad citizens, who had no family and no hope left. Max decided to escape from the city, by hooking himself onto a APC vehicle that was heading to "the outlands". A lot of people were talking about "the outlands" but no one has actually been there, and succesfully come back again.
When he came to the outlands, he had no chance getting back to the city again so he decied to find a weapon to protect himselfs against Zombies and Antilions. He finally found a 9mm pistol, but he was in a lack of ammo. As soon as Max arrived to a big wide and dark tunnel, he saw another rebel who was heavily amored, and Zombies were crawling towards Max, the rebel introduced himself as Zak Grant. I asked him for help but he couldn't do anything since he was standing 30 feet above me, besides he could drop some ammo down by a rope. So i told him that i had a 9mm pistol but no ammo, and he said to me "Don't worry, i will throw down my belt with 4 boxes!". And then he dropped 4 boxes of ammo and hit belt down to me, i grabbed it and loaded my gun, i succesfully shot most of the zombies but managed to espace the last 20 with only one bite in my left leg. And this is where i am today, i used 2 boxes of ammo, and has 2 left.


What will these authorizations give your character in regards to perks or defects?
Perks: I will have 2 boxes of 9mm ammo.
Defects: A bite in my left leg that makes my fall when i run for too long, or stumbles over something

What do you plan to do with these perks/defects?
Perks: Have the abillity to protect myself and Zak Grant.
Defects: Try to contact a medic to fix my leg.


Will anyone else need these auths? (If so, list OOC and IC name(s))
No.

Extra Notes (optional): If you see Grammar mistakes, then it's beacause i'm danish.

[Scratchie]

You cannot apply for weapons as this is getting ridiculous.

Anyway, all the above auths are henceforth denied.  Authorization Applications are moving to a new system so until that is done this is denied.

[Statua]

This thread has been reopened temporarily until the new system can be restored.

Note: ONLY POST IF YOU ARE AN ADMINISTRATOR OR ARE POSTING AN APPLICATION!!!!

Warning will be given out for people who disobey this. If you wanna comment on this or whatever post here.

-ADMINISTRATION NOTE-

Please do not remove any accepted authorizations from this thread as they are still valid and need to be kept for records.
Also, the reason I opened this thread instead of making a new one was to keep them all in one place to make them easier to find.

[Dallas]

Player Section

Steam Name: Dallas
Age: 16
How long have you been Roleplaying? (can be any game): Over one year now.
How long have you been playing Serious GMod RP?:  All of my time on GMod RP has been serious.

Character Section

Authorization(s):
Phocomelia- A birth defect that causes limb loss, in this case, both arms below the elbow.

The ability to do things like eat, drink and write with her feet

One word name 'Kal'

To have met a character ICly before coming to Ineu

Suffers from post traumatic stress disorder

Name: Clara 'Kal' Kalvins
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Affiliation: None

Write a detailed in-canon back-story how your character obtained these authorizations.

Clara Kalvins was born on April 15th 1994 in a front room of an apartment room Bucharest, Romania. Clara was born with a rare condition called Phocomelia- a disease, which in Clara's case, meant she was born without arms below the elbow. Clara's single mother sunk into post-natal depression, she refused to believe Clara was born like this and still thought herself to be bearing the real child. Clara's mother was admitted into a psychiatric institute in December of the same year Clara was born. The daughter was put into the systematic foster homes of Romania. She spent much of her early childhood in the special care of staff who worked at the foster home.

Growing up, Clara loved to try things all the other kids were doing but was excluded from many things due to her disability, she ended up reluctantly spending a long time in solitude, reading and learning how to do things like drawing, eating and drinking with the use of her feet without the aid of workers. Clara never had many friends in the home- the children saw her as weird and creepy. Clara's personality grew distrusting over time; her tone became naturally sharp and disarming. She distanced herself from even the workers, keeping her mind on the oddest things. On her 13th birthday, April 2007, Clara's way of life was to change forever...

Clara rose from bed, pushing the blankets away lethargically. The rain drummed on her bedroom window; forming small vertical rivers down the pane. The sound of the morning routine was absent; Clara's birthday fell during a school holiday and the children were either sleeping, out with friends or watching TV. Despite the day that other kids would find important- Clara was seen as weird and so any celebration on her days like this that had to involve her seemed condescending and incredibly forced. Clara's door was opened promptly by one of the care workers initially here to wake her up to dress her. The worker's name escaped Clara, she tried to forget names, and people never stayed around long enough to deserve remembering, that was her philosophy.

Once the worker had finished dressing Clara; slipping a long sleeved purple shirt over her and tying the arms into knots below the stumps, Clara looked up at the worker in her best poker face. The worker seemed neither pleased to see Clara or happy about her birthday. He muttered a forced,
"Happy birthday, by the way." before turning and walking out. Clara followed and descended the staircase towards the front door; of course there was no mail addressed for her, why would there be?

After shuffling through the various letters on the mat with her toes, she turned to the kitchen and sleepily walked in. Clara slumped in her usual chair, the one closest to the window. Clara cast an eye lazily over the single letter on the table; it was a small, formal looking document with a single stamp on its corner, it was addressed to Miss Kalvins of Bucharest Family Foster Home. Clara stared intently at the letter, because of it's position on the desk it would take some work to get open and even then she would end up tearing it apart... No, it was best to just wait. It was placed there however; perhaps they didn't want Clara to see it. One of the social workers walked in, opened the fridge and walked out, not even noticing Clara or her situation. As much as she wished things were different she knew that she was most likely to stay here for many more years, never being able to leave state care.

Clara arched herself forwards, flopping onto the table then using her legs to prop herself up, she managed to steady herself on the table surface. Clara took the envelope between her big toe and index toe, using her other toe to carefully tear the side of it open. After a minute of steady work the envelope was open and out came the paper; an official looking document with some logos of government organizations that Clara didn't care about. The letter read:

"To Miss C. Kalvins

We are pleased to inform you that our office has accepted your request of adoption to the Beklea family. Your transitional period will begin immediately and will bridge your move from institutional care to the care of your guardians... Blah blah blah..."

Clara tossed the paper aside, she had no idea how to react, she felt a surge of conflicting emotions. Happiness? Anger? Confusion? Who were these people? Clara wasn't even involved in her own adoption process. Were they that desperate to get rid of her? That thought hurt her more than anything. Clara's emotions cleared into a hue of sadness and so she began to cry, alone.

Despite Clara's worries, the Beklea family were nice enough; they treated her well and looked after her. Clara felt that she was at last part of a family. She took up actively writing, when she was happy she was full of ideas, they flowed through her like the blood in her veins. Clara even began to make friends at school, much to Clara's surprise.  She would often write with the pen name "Kal", it helped forget her memories of the care home, she even got her friends to start calling her it in the place of Clara. Clara wanted to become a journalist... Maybe a TV presenter but her disability yet again hampered her; she could only write a short time before she started getting pains, her writing was messy and scrawled. Her appearance meant that any TV career would be too jarring for the public it depressed Clara very much. In her high school years, Clara's grades began to decline sharply as her depression worsened.

By 2015, Clara's grades were so bad that her guardians pulled her out of school to be enrolled in intense tutoring from home, her guardians even decided to sell their house and move completely to their lakeside holiday home they visited in the summer- this was to help Clara "concentrate".

In August that year the world was to change irreversibly. The portal storms rocked the mountains of Romania violently; the sky shook as thunderous blue erupted from the sky for days on end, plunging the country into a week of perpetual night and tremors. In the mass panic, Clara and her adoption parents had been stocking up, not out of knowledge but out of fear. At night the sounds of distant gunfire blazed, there were creatures roaming the planet, appearing from anywhere. The governments of Earth declared martial law.

It was then on the fateful day where the heavens split and from the divide came the invasion force of the Universal Union, the Earth was consumed in conflict for days after the war had ended, small enclaves of fighters held out in a forest bunker about twenty kilometres from Clara's cabin. She remembers how every night the sky was engulfed in fire and raw energy as the Union laid waste to the enclaves. The confusion and panic was all around, Clara feared for her life every moment, with every distant sound of a gunship and every alien cacophony that bellowed from beyond the mountains. The cabin was not searched for some time, the Combine either didn't notice or didn't care. It was that case until a gloomy morning in October...

The sky was a murky shade, smoke drifted from beyond the mountains to the north, the air smelt of death and decay. The filthy soot blanketed the cabin; the family were confined to the basement out of fear of scouts. An unusual sound boomed from the distance, it was similar to that of a gunshot but it remained for a few seconds, hanging in the air. It was only when a faint whistle became audible that it struck Clara. As the thought hit her, so did the object.

Clara was thrown to the ground; her back slamming off stonewalls of the cellar. The dust that filled the air was blinding- a smell of smoke, chemicals and blood invaded Clara's senses, and she struggled upwards, shouting out for her guardians. She looked down at where her parents had been sitting; long smears of blood and organs littered the impact crater from where it hit, Clara screamed in horror, falling to her knees in dismay, tears streaming down her face. They were dead, both of them.

The metal shell that impacted the house clicked loudly, it opened with a hiss, and Clara shifted her tearful gaze up to it. From the pod emerged a strange shape, it's dark skin and long insect-like legs crept slowly into the light streaming from the hole in the roof. Clara stood back, moving away towards the door, fear grasping her and tears choking her. The creature leapt forwards suddenly towards Clara, she threw herself out of the way and scrambled up the steps where she forced the flimsy wooden door open before slamming it shut with her feet. The hole in the floor was now a billowing column of smoke, more shapes began to scale upwards out of the hole, Clara's eyes searched frantically for an escape route- the kitchen window had been smashed open during the portal storms, providing an escape route to Clara. She clambered onto the counter and out of the window, cutting her self on the window, with several fresh shallow rips in her side and front, Clara cried out and landed ungracefully on the porch. She forced herself up and ran awkwardly towards the tree line. She didn't know where she was going, she didn't care, all she wanted was to leave this place and go far away.

Her mind was in frenzy, not able to think straight, more tears streaming coldly from her cheeks as she took cover in the forest. The creatures had not followed her.

Clara was cold, without supplies and barefoot in the forest. She had covered some ground but she was tired and terrified, she fell into the fetal position and lay on the forest floor as dusk fell.

It was as the sun set that the sound of an engine roared into her hearing range. Clara opened her eyes momentarily to see a pair of bright headlights come thundering through the forest. Clara shut her eyes- if they passed her she would freeze to death or die of starvation eventually over the next few weeks, if they stopped then they would shoot her or take her their spaceship or whatever these creatures did. Whatever it was that happened, Clara had accepted her fate.

The car halted, the door opened, the crunch of boots on the forest foliage made Clara purse her lips tightly, bracing herself for what was to come. A male voice veiled in an American accent speaks up slowly; he sounds unsure whether Clara is alive, he approaches but then recoils slightly when he sees the knotted sleeves of her shirt.
"Uh... Hello? You alive?" He asks uncertain. Clara opens her eyes, looking over the man; he is a tall man with red baseball cap, a square-jaw chin that juts out his prominent horseshoe moustache dominates his facial features. His eyes snap open as he realizes Clara is alive; he offers a hand to help her for a moment before retracting the offer hastily once he figures out his mistake.

Clara sits forward, looking over the man, he looks slightly jarred by the girl's appearance. He sets about going forward and backwards to Clara as she gets up.
"Are you hurt? Do you need help?" He asks, his voice sounding resolute and re-assuring.
"I'm.. I.. " Clara's throat chokes up, she is torn with emotion, a pang of guilt and grief runs through her, she falls towards the man, sobbing. Clara hugs him loosely with her stumps, she mumbles something into his shirt but it is lost with the tears.
"Hey..." Says the man as he ties to comfort her, wrapping his hands onto Clara's shoulders. "Its okay, shhh. It's okay. Come on, let's get you out of here."
Clara nods, her tears running dry as she approaches the passenger car door. Clara stares at it with malice as the man gets into the car. He looks at Clara before a look of guilt swarms his features and he quickly gets out, apologizing profusely, he pops the white pickup door open and gestures her to sit.

Once they are on their way, the man takes this opportunity to introduce himself.
"I'm Red... Red Riley, uh... What's your name?" Clara looks blankly out the window into the blackness of the night, her eyes red with tears. She answers barely.
"Kal..."

In the coming week Red and Kal abandoned the car, taking the journeys on foot. Kal was once again in the care of someone; he was a nice guy, kind and reassuring, he had authority but wasn't mean to her. For a couple months the pair laid low in the winter, staying at a small refuge in the lowlands of the Romanian countryside. Kal became anchored to Red, if not for her own security then at least for the company. Red was a good guy after all. Kal's life would follow a pattern of going from refuge to refuge. Some descended into chaos, others were attacked by the Union. Kal learnt about the invasion and the intentions of the Union, it scared her so much. In the rare event she saw an Overwatch unit she became paralyzed with fear, her mind would race a thousand thoughts. It was their eyes that terrified her the most; glowing but soulless, deep yet empty. They were hollow shells of people. Hollow men. 

Kal's emotional state has worsened since the death of her adoption parents, the situation she finds herself in- on the road, going from hellhole to hellhole wasn't what Kal needed but there really was no other way. Kal would often have re-occurring nightmares, and despite Red's best efforts, they clearly disturbed her. The pain of losing the only people she loved was incredibly heavy for Kal, even writing (despite it becoming a difficult task in the Outlands) became pointless and didn't make her feel any better. 

It was in the early days of 2018 that the pair came across Ineu Pass after hearing about it from a merchant in a refugee on Highway 45- an empty wasteland linking "City 45" to where ever.

Kal's eyes strained to look towards the rising sun that rose from over the hill. Red watched the horizon with care, his baseball cap shielding his eyes from the worst of the morning light. The trees cast long corridors of shadow past the pair, lengthening as the sun rose. The silence of the walk was punctuated by the rhythmic crunch of snow underfoot Red broke the quiet scene.
"Not much further, probably. How you coping, Kal?" He asked in his usual casual tone as ducked under a low branch. Kal held her composed blank expression, letting out only a vague remark.
"Fine." In truth she was far from fine; her legs ached, despite Red being the one carrying the backpack, Kal was malnourished and feeling low. Red turned back to Kal a moment.
"We'll be there any minute now."

'There' was a place Red had heard about on Highway 45- it was another supposed haven with food, water, shelter and electricity. Though on the surface that sounded nice, it was always misleading. The populations of these "havens" tended to be psychotic, murderous or thieves. Most of the time Red and Kal only spent a few weeks at one place before fleeing or being forced out. Yet despite this, Red remained optimistic as usual.

Red was the first to reach the hilltop and survey the land ahead from a clearing in the pine trees. He whistled slightly, gesturing Kal to join him at the clearing. Kal hobbled to Red's side, standing at a much lower height than Red but she could still see the land ahead; the endless snowy pine trees gave way to slow gentle pass slopes, atop the slope sat a small collection of buildings, the largest of the lot gave off a small trail of smoke from a brick chimney. The faintest noise of a generator kick starting to life could be heard as Kal headed down the hill towards the settlement slowly. Red followed then overtook Kal's slow pace.

"It looks nice, yeah?" Red said as they treaded off the snowy forest track, Kal stepped slowly over the rusty road barrier, Red followed and then paused, staring towards the town at the end of the road. "Huh? Nice? C'mon, Kal."
Kal rolled her eyes slightly.
"Yeah. Nice, like the last five places." She muttered, starting off towards the large Inn-like building.

Here Kal and Red hope to settle, if only for a few months. It seems today safety is finite.


What will these authorizations give your character in regards to perks or defects?
Perks
Phocomelia- No perks for this one.

The ability to do things like eat, drink and write with her feet- Living is a little less inconvenient. 

To have met a character ICly before coming to Ineu- A friend and protector is already on-hand to assist Kal.

PTS- No advantages to having post-traumatic stress disorder from an IC point of view.

Defects
Phocomelia- Obvious lack of arms means doing anything is difficult. She will always be vulnerable basically all the time as weilding any weapon is impossible.
 
The ability to do things like eat, drink and write with her feet- Still difficult to do tasks and not as quick as hands.

To have met a character ICly before coming to Ineu- If Red were to die it would hurt Kal incredibly as they have already become good friends.

PTS- Flashbacks, nightmares, depression all that stuff that will just make Kal miserable.

What do you plan to do with these perks/defects?
I thought I would try and challenge myself with a really different type of character than any previous ones I have had at CG.

Will anyone else need these auths? (If so, list OOC and IC name(s))
OOC: Red yes
IC: Kenny 'Red' Riley

Which server does this  for? Outlands


Extra Notes (optional): EDIT 1: At Challenge's request I have added in the auth for post traumatic stress disorder and made a bit in the backstory plus added the perks/defects for it.

EDIT 2: Added a bit into the backstory detailing their arrival at the pass.

[Tyrex]

Player Section

Steam Name: Tyler / ty122096
Age: Sixteen.
How long have you been Roleplaying? (can be any game): Five to Six years.
How long have you been playing Serious GMod RP?: Four to Five years.

Character Section

Authorization(s):
 - A longbow with ten arrows.
- A crossbow with an 8x scope and ten bolts.
 - A hip quiver that holds arrows and bolts.
 - A woodland camouflaged jacket, hood, pants, boots, and gloves.
 - A bow hunting backpack.
 - A steak knife.
 - About a couple days worth of canned food and water.
 - An eyepatch with 'Father' written on it.
 - The nickname, 'Eye'.
 - A white surgical mask.


Name: Keisha 'Eye' Williams
Age: Twenty-four.
Gender: Female.
Affiliation: Neutral.

Write a detailed in-canon back-story how your character obtained these authorizations.

          Keisha was a 22 year old Black living in Ukraine.  She was more interested in doing guy-things when she was younger, as her mother was always working as a surgeon, so she spent most of her time with her father, getting a close bond with him.  She was particularly interested in archery.  Her father had hunted frequently, using a crossbow as his preferred weapon to hunt with; he let her use it sometimes.  Both her father and mother had demoted the use of firearms.  One day she was shooting a longbow she was given for her birthday.  She pulled back the arrow, aiming, before taking a deep breath.  She releases the arrow, it flies towards her target, hitting a little to the left of the center, "Damn," she says, "So close."  Keisha had a boyfriend, she didn't like him too much.  She wanted to break up with him, but he was extremely abusive.  He had argued with her one day, until he resulted to physical violence, he had picked up her father's crossbow, she pulled out her longbow in retaliation.  He really did love her, but he had to prove he was angry, so he tuned the aim to her father instead of her, he pulls the trigger, the crossbow recoiling, the bolt spinning towards her father.  It hits him, pierces right through his eyes, eventually into his brain, shutting his body down instantly.  Keisha watches as her father's limp body collapses, enraged, she pulls back her arrow, aiming straight for her boyfriend's nose, it instead goes left, hitting him right through the eye.  Keisha shakes, her emotions wild, she tries to calm herself, "A-A-A lit-little to the l-l-left..."  She slowly walks over to her father, looking down at his face, the arrow lodged in his left eye, she wanted something to remember him by.  She goes into the kitchen, pulling out a steak knife, before walking back to her father.  She bends down, slicing his plain black shirt off, she carries the shirt into her parent's bedroom, her mother is at work.  She opens up her theircloset, snatching his hunting backpack, woodland camouflaged uniform, ten crossbow bolts, twenty longbow arrows, and hip quiver.  "I want something to remember Mom by aswell..." she looks around, spotting a white surgical mask.  She quickly shoves the black shirt, surgical mask, and steak knife into the backpack.  She takes off her clothes, shoving them into the backpack as well.  She puts the quiver with the arrows and bolts in them, on the camouflage uniform, large on her.  She grabs the backpack before walking towards the kitchen, opening the pantry, shoving as many water bottles and cans of food she could fit into the backpack, before zipping it up, heaving it over her shoulder.  She walks back to the incident, picking up the knife, sticking it in her pocket.  She bends over, picking up the crossbow, not looking at her boyfriend as she walks over to her father, placing the crossbow across his chest.  shoves the crossbow into her backpack.  She places the longbow around her chest, over her shoulder.  She walks into the kitchen for a final time, taking both a pen and a napkin.  She begins writing on the napkin, tears soiling the napkin, "Mother... I have to leave, I don't know where I'm going... Please bury father, I couldn't care less about what you do to that other man... Don't be too sad, I'll be okay... I will always love you, mom."  She signs her name at the bottom.  She then exits the house, equipment on back, looking up at the bright sun, the heat coming in on her face.  She heads East, unknown of where she wants to go, tears dried up on her face, "I have to get away... somewhere remote..."  She then heads on her journey to the Ineu Mountains.  She reaches the Mountains, her food and water supplies low.  She looks around at the various scenery and smirks, "I think this is good."  She sets up a small shelter, before sitting down, taking her father's shirt out of her backpack, taking out the steak knife as well.  She cuts the shirt into a small eye patch that would wrap around her head, fitting right over her left eye.  She finds a rock, before inscribing onto the eye patch, the word, "Father."  She then puts it back on and takes the surgical mask from out of the backpack, placing it over her mouth and nose, tying it behind her head, as she puts the hood over her head.  Soon after her settlement in the Mountains, the Combine invaded.  She noticed the portals, but she thought she was just hallucinating, so she just tried to ignore it.  Because of this, she had no idea that the Seven Hour War was going on.  Clueless, she walked outside one day, surprised by the Xen life, she was terrified by what she saw, a lonely headcrab.  She quickly pulled out her longbow, loading an arrow, before pulling it back, the headcrab spots her, instantly jumping towards her head.  She releases the arrow as it hits the headcrab.  The headcrab makes a squeak before falling limp to the ground.  She pulls out the arrow, putting it back into her quiver, walking inside, "What the hell was that...?"
     
What will these authorizations give your character in regards to perks or defects?
Perks
- The items listed above.
- Advanced longbow technique.
- Poor crossbow technique.
- Reusable ammo to a certain extent.
- Great intimidation.
- Big backpack for storage.
- Great in medium-long ranged combat.


Defects
- Female, may show less intimidation depending on other characters.
- Despises most men to the bone because of her history.
- Heavy equipment, not very mobile.
- Atrocious in CQB and short-ranged situations because of her gear and her poor training.
- Slight paranoia from the shock of her history.

What do you plan to do with these perks/defects?
- Enhance roleplay as much as possible.

Will anyone else need these auths? (If so, list OOC and IC name(s))
No.

Which server does this apply for?
Outlands.

Extra Notes (optional):
I know this may seem like a lot to apply for at one time.  This is because I wanted to keep the back-story together.  This may seem OP but my previous character was 'Pyro', who had probably some of the most OP shit imaginable.  It was never abused once, I can't remember killing anyone outside of an event and even during events I don't think I killed a single person.  I usually used his gear for the utility of having disposable fire and the major intimidation factor.  Keep in mind I have not created this character yet.  I believe I can handle the responsibilities of these authorizations and I think other players could vouch for me as well.  I had a bit of trouble with the background, as I never actually researched the Half-Life back-story, so I don't know the advanced side of the canon, so please excuse me there.  These items would all be IC, I'm not applying for the crossbow SWEP.  I also think I created some of the best RP with 'Pyro' which I could probably do again with this character.

Edit 1: 
- I removed the crossbow authorization all together and adjusted everything accordingly. 
- I really couldn't think of much else to add to the back-story.
- The hood and whole clothing:

Spoiler for Hiden:

and

- The steak knife would only have about a 5 inch blade length:

Spoiler for Hiden:

- Added a new authorization, a surgical mask:

Spoiler for Hiden:

[Zail]

The 11th Doctor

For your application, I don't see much of a problem. An interesting character I must say. The authorizations you've requested doesn't change much of your surroundings, yet again they passively does.
Your history was great and I enjoyed reading her attempts to open certain things. Such as the letter regarding her new family adoption.
Though might want to add, sort of very emotional to your defect. Due to what's she's been out for, you don't suddenly forget it all. Perhaps trauma every once and a while would do great for the RP and your backstory.

Maybe add a bit here and there and you'll get a green light from me.


The Real Tyler

That's a fuck ton you're asking for there, Tyler.
Compared to the background history, I would say a lot more would be required. Even knife authorizations requires more, I'd believe.
If you would do me that favor and add a bit more onto your background, I'd say good for that.

Background: Add a bit more.

To items though.
-Longbow + arrows. Sure.
-Crossbow + bolts + 8x scope... More likely not. Not really supportive of this idea, for the current time of the moment. +You already got the bow listed just above.
-Quiver. Sure.
-Jacket, pants, boots and gloves. Sure.
    -Mind find a picture regarding the hood? Would like to see it beforehand, to get an impression of what it looks like.
-Backpack. Sure. Capable of holding a bit more than a regular backpack.
-Steak knife. How big is it? Could you give me any info on that?
-A few ekstra supplies.Sure.
-Eyepatch. Sure.
-Nickname. Sure.

[Frolie [Jellykid]]

Player Section

Steam Name: Frolie
Age: 15
How long have you been Roleplaying? (can be any game): About Five Years
How long have you been playing Serious GMod RP?: About Two Years

Character Section

Authorization(s):

 - Amateur Explosives Manufactor (Molitov Cocktails),  Breathable 'Anesthetic' or 'Sedative' (Chloroform or Amonia / Bleach)

 - Moderate Skills in Lockpicking, and Rudimentary Lockpicking Tools

Name: Layla 'Razors' Blackburn
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Affiliation: None

Write a detailed in-canon back-story how your character obtained these authorizations.

Lockpicking Skills & Tools:

Spoiler for Hiden:

If there's only one way past, there's a dozen.

It was a personal creed Razors had lived with her entire life. It lead to her intellect's application in computer sofftware, hardware, and hacking, as well as her finetuned abilities in mechanical and electrical engineering. However, Breaking & Entering wasn't a hobby of Razors, or an interest in the slightest.

Locks are a fashion of keeping something secret, or sealing out prying eyes. They symbolized the thing Razors despised above all else; boundaries. So, learning the skills attributed to lockpicking wasn't so much a method for her work, but a personal rite of passage required for her to feel completely uninhibited.

Learning the rudimentary wasn't difficult for her. She understood locks from the inside based on diagrams and from reading books and articles off her computer, as well as purchasing a few locks of her own and disassembling them. As ever, it wasn't for several weeks before taking up a new obsession that she actually tried her hand at it. She ordered a basic set of picks and torque wrenches from an online locksmith's catalog, then set to work on a simple 3-pin tumbler lock.

It was much easier than it was made out to be, starting with only three pins. Within a single night, she had subliminally counted a total of 79 successful attempts at picking the lock, each time better fine-tuning the exact pressure required on the pins to push the driver through the cylinder. Within an hour, the lock could be opened in only a second or two.

She slowly worked on increasingly more difficult locks in her spare time, working up from 3, to 4, to 5, 6, 7, 8, even 9 pin tumbler locks. All fell like dominoes under Razors' obsession for perfection. Even once she could topple  some of the best commercial pin & tumbler locks, she didn't stop. She moved on to Side-Locking Bar Locks, Tubular Locks, Rim and Mortise Locks, even stretching out to her other skill groups to work on mechanical and electronic locks. She thought nothing of this abilities application in the real world; to her, it was all a game, the equivalent of an 'ordinary' man's crossword puzzle or sudoku.

Among her other valuables and thoughtfully useful utensils she packed during and after the 7-Hour-War, her small black-leather case of locksmithing tools, picks, rakes, and other helpful tool was stashed into the bottom of her bag, waiting her further attention should she become 'bored', or their actual integration to her arsenal of tools and skills.

Amateur Explosives Manufactor (Molitov Cocktails),  Breathable 'Anesthetic' or 'Sedative' (Chloroform or Amonia / Bleach)

Spoiler for Hiden:

"He'll see you now."

Layla waited for no further introduction or ceremony before shouldering her way past the door's gaurd; or as she preferred to dub him, secretary. Inside was the man she had been waiting to see for several weeks; Prophet.

He was short, for a man, standing at 5 feet and 6 inches, but few would question his abilities of intimidation. Over his face, he wore a mask made of crumbled aluminum, cracked from flame and imbedded with layers of rusted steel or iron. It was a grizzly testament to his greatest passion; fire.

As far as his attire was considered, he was more or less ordinary. He wore a curt black coat with two rows of buttons down his breast, and a baseball cap onto of his wretched mask. A pair of Olive-Drab Cargo pants cut away halfway up the calf were adorned about his hairy legs, and those too were patched and torn in numerous places. The only other notable feature about the man was his right leg, or lack thereof. Speculation surrounded how exactly he'd lost his leg, though most assume it was torn away during the 7-Hour-War. In it's place, there was a curved bit of springy metal that he could use to get around on easily enough. Nonetheless, to keep his posture and preserve his dignity, he often walked with a withered extension from the branch of an oak tree, which he used for a cane or staff.

He was waiting Razors inside the back of the tent. He sat on a folding camper chair, with a dozen crumpled beer cans to his left and a plastic table littered with chemicals and volatile ingredients to his right. In the corner, a man with no legs, or any prosthetic to speak of at all, was playing the guitar and murmuring words that were either foreign or so deeply shrouded in mental illness that the were indecipherable, or inaudible.

Prohet's mask cocked off to the right, signifying his curiosity at Razors' arrival. "Our Blackburn, arriving on time? Unbeffiting, Prophet thinks..."

Razors shrugged, her non-chalice installed in her proffesional attitude for the day. "I'm in need of a favor, Prophet. Knowing your connections, it won't be difficult for you to obtain."

Prophet rose from his sagging chair, his swaggering steps moving in unison with the cripples guitar playing as he moved over to the table, evidently resuming some activity he was up to. "Blackburn wishes a favor... Prophet does owe Blackburn, yes he does..."

He popped a plastic funnel onto a label-less brown-glass bottle picking up a tin container and emptying it into the funnel as he listens, somewhat hedonistically to Razors' request.

"Out past City 45, or Bucharest, there's a small Outlands community of refugees. They call this strip of land 'Ineu Pass'. I require transport to this location, as well as two of your mercenaries to assist me temporarily while I set up my things within a nearby village. This piece of land is in a unique position to-"

Prophet held up his hand, shaking it dismissively. "Enough, Prophet pleads Blackburn, Enough. She will have her transport, and her temps, yes she will... Prophet cares little about your business, he only wishes to be finished with Blackburn. She brings trouble, yes..."

He removed the funnel from the mouth of the bottle, stuffing a damp rag down into it in it's place. "Ah, Prophet yearns for his youth, he does. Blackburn knows what this is, maybe?"

Razors took a few curious steps forward, to examine the bottle in greater detail. "It's a... Molitov, I think they're called. Fuel bomb."

Prophet nodded encouragingly. "It is so! Prophet made many of these, he did, when Prophet was young.The Blackburn made them too, perhaps?"

Razors shook her head in the negative. "No, my hobbies were invested in seeking alternative methods to pass obstacles, instead of burning them."

Prophet cackled, a mad man's laughter behind a hollow mask resulting in a dull ring around the room. Razors winced, but the guitar playing cripple seemed not to much mind at all. "The Blackburn talks all in tongues, she does! She must approach Prophet, so he might teach her this, simple recipe."

Razors shook her head, dismissing the idea immediately. "I've got no desire to burn anything, or blow anything up. You can keep your fire to yourself."

Prophet slams a foot down on the gravel floor of the tent, the way a child might during a temper-tantrum. For just a moment, the cripple ceased his playing, but not a second later did he resume. "Blackburn will learn this one cocktail, or you will get no transport. Besides, Prophet must insist; you will never know when your own fire can tip the scales of battle."

Razors' mind fluttered into her past briefly, back to her relationship with fire, back to her foster-father, back-

She shook her head, drifting out of her repressed subconcious and back into reality. She approached the table with caution, wary of Prophet's unpredictable behavior.

Prophet himself was as giddy as a school child, collecting the proper ingredients for his amateur explosive. "To make these, fuel bombs, as the Blackburn says, first you would need ah... gasoline, yes, and a bottle, cloth, alcohol, some motor oil, mhm... yes, these we need."

Razors stood, stone-faced as she listened to Prophet babble on and on about his praised recipe, and committed it all to memory (by accident, of course; the gift and curse of her eidetic memory). She followed Prophet's instructions in her head:

Fill the glass bottle with gasoline, add motor oil as a thickening agent. Soak the cloth in alcohol- a high proof alcohol, to catch fire. Then, stuff the cloth into the mouth of the bottle, tightly enough to keep it taut. Lighting the alcohol-moist cloth carries a flame, and when the bottle breaks, the gasoline is ignited...

"Child's play! Child's play, I say, I say!" Prophet was jumping up and down gleefully at the completion of their little projection, pulling the crippled player up onto the stubs of his knees to do a small dance. None seemed any the wiser of Razors' mixed reception to the spectacle; confusing, and disturbing, she thought.

"Blackburn must try this, this fiery spirit, as Prophet has on many a-day. Come, come!" Prophet pushed his way out the tent flap, out into the small community of tents that surrounded his own. Most of these people were madmen like Prophet, but many were also part of Prophet's personal army; Mercenaries hired out of pocket, the results of his lucrative trade in pillaging, thieving, and plundering caravans and small settlements. The whole pitiful excuse for a camp reeked of piss and feces and decaying bodies. Razors did her best to both shield herself from the pungent aroma, and also seem unaffected by it. Whether she was successful in her attempts, or Prophet was simply too giddy in his play, she wouldn't know.

"Come, come! Follow me, to the cliff's edge! Best place to toss the flaming spirits, Prophet always says!" His high-pitched, scretchy whine groaned in Razors' ears, but she managed to stomach both the noise and the smell. "Take it, take it! And give it a toss!" Prophet thrust their creation into her palm, taking a few anxious steps back to watch the spectacle.

From her back pocket, Razors withdrew her lighter, pausing just a moment to run her thumb over the Razor-blade indent lining the steel case.  She clicks open the cap, and sparks the flint, one single ember catching the kerosene wick completely aflame. Not too long after, the alcohol-damp rag was alight also, and her lighter was back in her pocket. With a curious underarm toss, the bottle spins curiously out over the cliff's edge, down onto the stone ravine below.

The pyrotechnics that followed impressed even Razors. A blazing flower of eccentric flame exploded like a hand-grenade down below them, shrapnel of embers and flickering lights cascading out around the spot of the fall. The flame continued for several more minutes, an irregularly shaped polygon of raging fire gorging into the bland stone.

Prophet clapped excitedly. "You see? You liked it, didn't Blackburn like it?"

Razors nodded. "It wasn't bad..."

Prophet waved his hand around in the air, as if to capture the carefree atmostphere that encricled himself. "You think that good? Prophet will show you something more to your liking, something quiet, sneaky, yes? Yes, I think so." He promptly seized her by the wrist, tugging her eagerly back into the tent. They were behind the plastic table a second later, Prophet prattling on about ingredients and methods, which Razors rationalized for her own purposes:

Bleach and acetone were all that was unnecessary for this recipe. All that needs doing is splashing around a spoonful of acetone into a cupful of the bleach to yield the desired results. Let it set someplace cool and dark for a while, after which some dense bubbles will have formed at the bottom of the solution. Collecting the bubbles is the product of the combination creating-

"Chloroform!" Prophet yelled out. "Sweet smelling, colorless Chloroform! Just what I used to get all the bitches in grade school, you know."

Razors' brow furrowed quizically. "Chloroform? The stuff that knocks people unconcious?"

Prophet nodded furiously. "The very same stuff. Here, you'll see it in action!" Without further warning, he poured the thick solution sloppily onto a gauze bandage, then crushed it up against the Crippled Player's mouth and nose. Before Razors could make any move to protest, the player slumped down onto the gravel like a ragdoll.

"Jesus... I guess that shit really works. So, are you done with your damn talent show?"

Prophet nodded. "Yes I am, Blackburn. You'll have your ride, on the morrow. You might sleep here for the night. Oh, and please! Take some of my herbs, and spices, and flours of my glorious trade! You might be in need of fire and sleep when you go to this, valley."

Razors shook her head affirmatively. "Might be I will..."

What will these authorizations give your character in regards to perks or defects?
Lockpicking Skills & Tools
 + Allows the character to access usually forbidden areas
  - Is yet another set of tools the character has to keep track of
  - Picking locks takes time, and leaves the character vulnerable for attack

Molitov Cocktails / Chloroform Production
  + Allows the character to weild dangerous and potentially life-threatening utensils
  + Chloroform could be used as a medical anesthetic
  - Character is clearly uncomfortable with the use of the molitov in the backstory,
      and therefor would only use it in situations where she is extremely irate. Given
      that circumstance, it's possibly that the character could act irrationally and do
      damage to herself
   - Chloroform requires several breathes to intoxicate a victim, living said target able
      to fight back

What do you plan to do with these perks/defects?

I plan to both encourage this characters dangerous and calculated method of calculation and intimidation, and also make more options for non-lethal activity, and thus allow more venues for interesting roleplay.

It would also add to my characters already abundant methods of passive roleplay. As could be cited in the back-story, Layla frequently picks locks like a 'game' or to 'pass the time'.
Will anyone else need these auths? (If so, list OOC and IC name(s))

No one else will needs these Authorizations

[Khub]

Doctor and Tyler, you both have got a green light from me. Your applications in their current state seem good to me and I believe you both are capable of handling them properly. Up to Challenge if she agree's with them now and if she accepts those.


Frolie, your application seems good as well. But I want you to be specific about this:

Prophet nodded. "Yes I am, Blackburn. You'll have your ride, on the morrow. You might sleep here for the night. Oh, and please! Take some of my herbs, and spices, and flours of my glorious trade! You might be in need of fire and sleep when you go to this, valley."

List what exactly has your character taken, and how much as well.
Also, your character isn't lockpicking 24/7 and it seems she didn't take any practice locks. I'd say most of those in Ineu Pass would be either rusty or damaged. I don't want to see or hear about any "i can pick any lock in 10 seconds go aside ok im moving on this door xd".

[Frolie [Jellykid]]

Frolie, your application seems good as well. But I want you to be specific about this:

Prophet nodded. "Yes I am, Blackburn. You'll have your ride, on the morrow. You might sleep here for the night. Oh, and please! Take some of my herbs, and spices, and flours of my glorious trade! You might be in need of fire and sleep when you go to this, valley."

List what exactly has your character taken, and how much as well.
Also, your character isn't lockpicking 24/7 and it seems she didn't take any practice locks. I'd say most of those in Ineu Pass would be either rusty or damaged. I don't want to see or hear about any "i can pick any lock in 10 seconds go aside ok im moving on this door xd".

Sorry, I finished writing that bit of the story at like, five in the morning. The things that she took with her were strictly related to what Prophet had made during their stay: as in, a moderately sized plastic container of gasoline, a small container of motor oil and another, smaller container of high-proof alcohol. Also, a thick jug of bleach and small bottle of acetone, not to mention a liberal supply of rags for both 'recipes'.

As far as locks go, I got a bit carried away in the backstory but the original intention was for her to have moderate skills in that area. That being said, I'd say it could take anywhere from 30 to 40 OOC seconds, with infinite possibilities for more. I'll give you a small example of what that roleplay might look like:

** Layla 'Razors' Blackburn looks anxiously down one end of the corridor, then the other, before carefully going to her knees before the knob of the door. She slides her bag over her shoulder, planting it down beside her to look inside of.

** Layla 'Razors' Blackburn shakes her head frustratingly as she digs her way around inside, past her cigarettes and small other tools, until her hand finally seals around the black-leather case of lockpicking tools. After a moment or two more of carefully removing the case, she presses open the clasp on the side examining her tools.

** Layla 'Razors' Blackburn selects a moderately sized torque wrench and a basic, hook-shaped pick. She slides the end of the wrench into the lower portion of the lock, testing the  strength of the lock before inserting the pick into the top port. She counts the pins in her head as she rakes gently across them with the pick: 3... 4... 5.

** Layla 'Razors' Blackburn applies careful amounts of pressure to the back pin, simultaneously applying different levels of torque to the wrench. After a few moments of experimentation, the driver slides into the cylinder, locking the pin in place.

** Layla 'Razors' Blackburn moves onto to the next pin, then the third and fourth.

** Layla 'Razors' Blackburn has a small coughing fit, her grip slipping on the torque wrench for a fraction of a second, causing the four pins to lock back into place.

** Layla 'Razors' Blackburn cusses under her breath, starting her work again, albeit this time much faster, having discovered the pressure and torque the first time.

** Layla 'Razors' Blackburn eventually sets all the pins back in place, as well as the fifth one, until the entire cylinder begins to twist off the the right. She removes the pick, twisting the wrench until the cylinder reaches it's limit and the lock disengages.

** Layla 'Razors' Blackburn puts the pick and wrench back inside the case, and then the case back inside her bag. She stands, twisting the door-knob and shouldering her way inside.

Also, there would be intervals of a few OOC seconds in between each performance, during which time she could be talking to someone, or engaging in something else. All and all, pending intervention from other characters, the whole process would take maybe 30 to 50 seconds.

[Would you like some 3.14159265?]

Player Section

Steam Name: Would you like some 3.14159265?
Age: 16
How long have you been Roleplaying? (can be any game): 4-5 years.
How long have you been playing Serious GMod RP?: 2-3 years.

Character Section

Authorization(s): CQC and H2H
Advanced Firearm Skills
Advanced Melee Skills
Basic Survival Skills
The ability to leave (whatever time amount, would like Admins to decide) OOC time to gather mechanical supplies.


Name: Keiji Maeda
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Affiliation: Rebellion

Write a detailed in-canon back-story how your character obtained these authorizations.
Keiji was able to master his ability of Engineering and tech to the point where he became almost obsessed with it. He spent a lot of his time fixing, repairing and tinkering with whatever he could find, occasionally asking around to see if others needed anything of theirs to be fixed. He constantly set out to prove himself an asset when it came to this field, but yet, it was still not enough. Although he did prove himself in the eyes of some, others had different plans, plans that involved ridding of Keiji entirely. After having found out about said info, Keiji knew it was time to take action. He needed someone who could teach him how to fight, how to defend himself, how to retaliate when someone wants to push Keiji around, so he sought help immediately.

Keiji wasted no time, going to the man he knew most in the ass-kicking business- Beans. After a short discussion, he was able to make a deal with Beans: Beans would teach Keiji how to properly defend himself, shoot a gun and swing an axe in return for whatever means of supplies he could scrounge up for Beans’ car. Keiji accepted graciously, starting as early as possible to get his training going.
Beans being the man he was, didn’t have as much free time as Keiji would’ve. But whatever hours in the day he could offer, (which was usually around 4-6 hours) Beans would take Keiji over to his cottage and teach him some practical Close Quarters Combat and Hand-to-Hand, throwing in a Sparring Match ever now and then if Beans felt confident that Keiji was progressing well. There would be a few times were Beans could train Keiji for a good two, maybe three days in a row, but other than that, it would be off days for Keiji, as something big would pop up that Beans would have to go take care of. The training, however, lasted a good three to four weeks, until Keiji was able to hold out against Beans in a hand-to-hand match for a solid hour.

Keiji’s training would then continue thereafter, beginning with firearms training. The time Beans would be able to give per day was almost exactly similar to that of his previous training. Beans started by showing Keiji how to properly hold, handle and reload a gun. He would test him by seeing how long he could hold up a rifle before the weight became too much, how quickly he could snap his gun up and down without hitting himself with it, and seeing how fast he could reload. After being impressed with the results after a week, Beans would then have the two men sit on one side of the cottage’s lake, placing targets on the other side in the shape of random pieces of lumber or fallen pieces of bark, using a spray paint can to draw on circles. Occasionally he would hang a large piece of branch off of a tree, using that as a moving target. Being careful to conserve ammo, Beans was very strict on where Keiji had to hit his target, smacking him upside the head if ever he didn’t get near or in the bulls-eye’s he made on both the moving and non-moving targets. This would go on for the duration of a good, solid month and a half until Keiji would be able to place three bullets in the middle of the bulls-eyes.

After he finished learning his firearms training, he continued to move onwards to Melee training, which didn’t take all too long. Beans would show Keiji how to get the most strength in his swing, where he should typically aim for, and how to be accurate in doing so. He would test Keiji by seeing how quickly he would be able to chop through a huge piece of log with an axe and how accurate he would be with each hit, and also testing him by throwing random items such as empty cans, bottles, etc and seeing how many Keiji could hit in mid-flight. Keiji found it quite simple how to properly swing an axe or a bat, only finding difficulty in being accurate in where he hit, which he was quick to master within a three week duration.

Beans then took a final week to refresh on everything he taught Keiji, and Keiji passed with flying colors. It was at that point Keiji felt confident he would be able to protect himself, and was ready to uphold his end of the bargain.
After two days of preparation, Keiji and Beans both agreed to set outside of Ineu Pass for three days, bringing only their weapons, and attempting to survive off the land in hopes of teaching Keiji how to handle himself away from help whenever he goes out to look for supplies. The travel started simple, with Beans and Keiji having one final “meal” before taking Beans’ car and heading out 15 kilometres from Ineu Pass. It was there that Beans made quick work in setting up a temporary camp, showing Keiji how to use the environment around him to make a small shelter, a fire, etc. Two days passed as Beans continued to teach Keiji where to properly find food, how to boil the water you have to make it drinkable, what plants are good or bad, etc. before their “vacation” was cut short. They had been out collecting water only to return to a camp infested with 4 Antlions that were blocking their path to Beans’ car. Keiji and Beans took quick action, making a quick plan of attack behind a rock. Keiji would sneak around to a pile of logs opposite where Beans was. Beans would then fire a round into an Antlion and divert their attention. As they began to head towards Beans, Keiji would pop up and do the same with his gun, effectively picking the two of them off. When the attention was back on Keiji, Beans would come out behind his cover and slice open and Antlion, focusing the attention back on him. Keiji would then come out behind his cover and slice open the final Antlion as the tow of them would then make a run for his car.

The plan worked perfectly.

The two of them made the quick five second jog to Beans’ car and took off. Just in time, as well, as more Antlions came around at the sight of their dead kin. After a few moments of laughter and bragging, Beans commemorated Keiji on how he handled himself followed directly after by threatening him to hold up his end of the deal. Keiji gave his promise to keep his word, and the two headed back to Ineu with only a few words exchanged thereon.

     

What will these authorizations give your character in regards to perks or defects?
Perks
Each auth applied for will give Keiji the ability to defend himself and scavange the parts for Beans.

Defects
The few defects I see is Keiji potentially coming back with very little or nothing on his trips to scavange and potentially abusing his newfound skills, making him more of a target again.

What do you plan to do with these perks/defects?
Described in the story.

Will anyone else need these auths? (If so, list OOC and IC name(s))
Just good ol’ me.

Which server does this apply for?
Outlands

Extra Notes (optional):
Tray/Beans did agree for me to add him into the story.

[Khub]

Sorry, I finished writing that bit of the story at like, five in the morning. The things that she took with her were strictly related to what Prophet had made during their stay: as in, a moderately sized plastic container of gasoline, a small container of motor oil and another, smaller container of high-proof alcohol. Also, a thick jug of bleach and small bottle of acetone, not to mention a liberal supply of rags for both 'recipes'.

To prevent any form of asspulling, I want you to be as certain as even possible. That means something like this:

Gasoline in a plastic container - # litres
Rags - # pieces

[Frolie [Jellykid]]

Gasoline in a plastic container - # litres
Rags - # pieces

Gaslone: 2.5 Litres
Rags: 5 (four for use in cocktails, the fifth sealed in a plastic bag for use with chloroform