#krimzon guard

[tsubaki94]

Krimzon Guard Jak (Jak 2)

(Thanks to everyone who recomended JND fic's I'm reading some of them right now while writing one of my own. XD.) Just playing around with the idea of Jak as a KG

[theshiaxartist]

-Shames the KG for hitting children-

[adhdavinci]

my KG oc, Silv ~ partially a self insert and partially based on bloodhound apex legends bc hyperfixation go brrrrr

[black-eco-sage]

01010110 01001001 01010010 01001001 01010011 :)

[jak2gooberglub]

⚠️Flash warning ⚠️

You get used to it

[madamutzsar]

[tigressaofkanjis]

Why the fuck do these

look like the Krimzon Guard symbols from Jak and Daxter?

They have nearly the same design and it's throwing me. Also, they look like TFA Omega Supreme's face too. I'm confused as to why they did this

[thinkkirby2]

Okay. since I'm very LAZY, I thought of a Jak and Daxter 2 Tribute/AMV. (I call it Jak and Daxter 2 instead of Jak 2 sometimes. for the cool lil guy Dax.)

I imagined this mix (images, and some vid parts) that might show Fan art of Jak in the 2 year scar process and a small pit of Jak's Memories of peace... (Watch this vid bellow if you wanna use your mind to think/Imagine.)

[radioactivepeasant]

Free Day Friday: Viper continuation

Picking up from Here

Thrax scarcely recognized the city anymore. In the five years since his banishment for questioning the research into dark eco, he'd sort of assumed nothing would change, not really. But the Haven he crept through now was barely half of what he'd left behind. The slums were gone, replaced by gleaming modern architecture and locked behind force fields. He'd thought it was to keep the displaced rabble out until he saw the first metalhead lounging on a filthy street corner. Until he saw the crushed remains of the Stadium, the Grand Hotel, the museum-! The Palace District of Main Town was destroyed.

How far Praxis must have fallen before the end! Thrax found himself, to his surprise, hoping the old fool had met a hideous death at the hands of Damas’s pet demon. The count was right, he was an abomination, but that was more Praxis's fault than the monster's, to his mind. Praxis made it out of some kid who didn't get a say in the matter. In his own way, Thrax felt sorry for Jak. But sympathy for demons didn't get you far in life.

Bitterly cursing the cold, Thrax pulled his scarf higher and found himself turning down an alley in search of things to burn. He should have been home by now. Well, not home, his old penthouse from his days in the Guard had a support beam impaling the top three floors now. Somewhere better, perhaps, in New Haven. He'd even have accepted military barracks if it came with the proper pay and respect! That had been the promise, that was to be his reward: all that Praxis had stripped from him restored. And all he'd had to do was kill that weakling Damas.

Only, Damas wasn't a weakling anymore. He was as harshly pragmatic as Praxis had ever been. Ruler of a land of barbarians! It was madness! Honestly, Thrax would have been relieved to have Haven destabilize and assume control of the city. But now...now, he doubted Haven had anything close to the manpower that would require. No wonder assassination had been suggested instead!

And he'd failed, pure and simple.

Thrax was no fool, he knew his glorious homecoming was contingent on him holding up his end of the bargain. Still, he couldn't help a sullen thought that he might have succeeded if Veger hadn't sent the monster straight to Damas’s doorstep like a housewarming present.

There were two other people huddled around a barrel at the end of the alley, burning garbage for warmth. They didn't acknowledge him at first, until the light flickered off his tattoos. One of them swore and kicked at him.

"Get out of here!" The kick unbalanced him and his friend caught his elbow. "KG scum! Metal-lover! Go back to hell!"

Something grated high above their heads. The sound of a boot on a slate shingle. Even with the heat of the fire in his face, Thrax suddenly felt cold. What forgotten instinct warned him not to look up? That he had no time to look?

The shingles cracked.

Thrax ran.

For once, he was grateful for the grueling, brutal training Damas forced candidates to endure before he allowed them to enter the desert alone. A Havenite -- gods, when had he stopped thinking of himself as a Havenite? -- would never have been able to clear the fallen masonry, or the burnt-out husks of hellcats that littered the streets. A mantis-head took a swipe at him from the shadows of a fallen archway, and Thrax lost his footing as he dodged.

He landed hard, skidding down a short drop that had once been part of the road. In the two seconds required to pick himself up, Thrax saw what his instincts had been warning him about.

The monster. The child-soldier. Jak.

He leapt from the awning of what used to be a racing memorabilia shop, landing with a predatory grace that momentarily froze Thrax. His creepy talking Teacup Mine-rat hunched on his shoulder -- everyone said there was no such thing as Mine-rats having a teacup breed, but they were the only animal he'd ever seen with those proportions and that nauseating shade of orange -- watching him with those beady little eyes. In an almost careless move, the rat pointed out the mantis-head that had knocked Thrax down. The monster shot it in the head after only glancing in its direction.

The spell was broken. Thrax ran down the cracked and sunken crater that the road had become, desperately scanning the horizon for a place to hide. He was too far from New Haven -- not that the elite would have any compunction to help him when he'd failed his mission -- and he could see metalheads and those Krimzon robots blocking many of the avenues he could have used for escape. Stopping to shoot them would give the monster time to catch up.

Thrax knew what the abomination was capable of. He'd seen what happened to his co-conspirator. Dropped like a stone as they tried to flee, obsidian claws buried in the base of their skull while watched by the pitiless eyes of whatever evil spirit the boy had become. Would those same claws paralyze him, too? Drag him back to the desert to die or worse? Or would death be swift?

No, no he couldn't think like that. He had to escape. He had to hope for a way to kill the thing. Thrax charged into another alley, hoping against hope that a door would be open or unlocked. If he could get inside, his chances of survival would dramatically increase.

The Precursors, however, did not favor him that day.

The alley ended at a wall of twisted rebar and half melted plastics, fused together with foul acids secreted by the metalheads. A panicked whine escaped Thrax's throat as he whirled, already knowing what would be behind him.

But there was nothing.

That did not calm his nerves. Where was the creature? Thrax's eyes rolled back and forth, scanning every shadow. His breath came in shallow pants as he backed up, fumbling for his morph gun.

Then came the sound of boots on shingles again.

He had forgotten to look up.

Jak dropped silently, driving his knee into the fugitive's back. Thrax fell with a cry, gun clattering from his hand and onto the ruined cobblestones. He was under no obligation to bring Thrax back alive -- they'd gotten most of the information they needed out of the monk, Nadab. Damas had given him explicit permission to kill the would-be assassin if the situation warranted it. But at the same time, Jak had a suspicion. He was catching on to a greater trend of treachery within Haven, and he had a feeling Thrax knew who was behind it. All he needed was confirmation.

"Do your worst, abomination," Thrax gasped, clawing for any shred of courage he had left. "I do not fear death."

"Captain."

Thrax faltered. "What?"

Jak flipped him over so that their eyes met. His eyes were cold, and in the darkness, Thrax wondered in a daze how they could look so much like Damas’s.

"It's Captain Abomination. If you're going to insult me, do it properly."

The rat snickered and nudged his head encouragingly.

"Now you have a very small window of opportunity here," Jak growled. "You tell me who put Nadab in contact with you, and you get a chance to give up your beacon with a shred of honor intact. If you have a shred of honor left."

"This is a limited time offer," Daxter warned.

Trembling, Thrax repeated, "I do not fear death!"

Jak smiled, but there was no humor in it.

"Yes you do."

He was right.

[iobartach]

May I present to you a concept -- bazaars being a feature of Downtown, in 2099

[tsubaki94]

Jak and Daxter fanfic art. Ch (Don't know yet)

[theshiaxartist]

Captain Cobank, captain of the guard for a private estate in Northern Haven.

He joined the KG to make a difference and protect Haven, instead he was so good at his job that someone bought his services from the Baron.

Now he's stuck guarding rich assholes from starving citizens.

Cobank joined the KG willingly, eagerly even, as a teen. He was technically underage, 14, but lied about it to get admitted.

He was trained by his mother to use a rifle, so he had amazing marks as a sniper, quickly climbing the ranks.

He worked under Erol for a short time, then as a guard for the Council, then as one of Praxis' own guard.

Each move up made his more and more aware of how fucked Haven was. Now he's 24 and beyond bitter about his life and the state of the city.

[extraneousdominomask]

Make an OC out of this: "Riot"+Jak & Daxter

Name: Ellya

Special skill: Civil disobedience

Whole deal: Haven City is an awful place to live, and not everyone buys the line that Praxis' rule is a necessary evil. These are natural environs for the classic punk. Ellya isn't officially a part of the Underground or anything she just loves vandalism and hates cops

Quote: "Haha check out how hard I can throw this brick!"

[black-eco-sage]

Name: Cpt. Jolt Scytere

Affiliation: Krimzon Guard [Praxis Regime]

Occupation: Krimzon Guard Elite (KG-E). Heavy Artillery, Shock-Specialist

Patron Precursor: Haest (Precursor of Wrath)

Weapons/Armor:

[+] Vulcan Fury VF1000 (not pictured here)

[+] RE/YE Gauntlets

[+] KG Knife

Abilities:

"Rage Light": Jolt has a Berserker Mode that utilizes the Dual-Channeling ability. She gets stronger with every hit taken up to 10 times her base strength, and becomes an unstoppable juggernaut.

"Dual Channeling" - Being a Scytere, Jolt has the ultra-rare genetic ability to channel two Eco Types at once. Specifically, has an affinity for Red and Yellow Eco, the two most destructive types on the planet (sans Dark Eco of course).

Combat:

Jolt is a legendary rage junkie. If there is enough Eco in her system, they can trigger the Rage-Light ability, a nigh invulnerable state that boosts their offense and defense tenfold. This is used sparingly and in dire situations; if used for too long, Jolt's system could literally burn up, and/or run out of Eco.

The RED Gauntlet is for short range, point-blank power attacks, and the YEL gauntlet is for ranged offense. For typical melee, Jolt uses them both to fire-punch her enemies in the face. >:)

For Heavy work, the VF1000 is the full version of the Vulcan Fury, with armor-piercing rounds that can punch through the bio-mechanical hides of even the toughest Metalheads.

(Bonus) When low on Eco, Jolt can absorb her own Red or Yellow Eco Shells from the gun or gauntlets.

[woelfin-sheeps-clothing]

For those on the redesign poll who wanted to see Erol! He’s now a proper commander of the Krimzon Guard!

Reel on Instagram!

[piecesofacrow]

Blood ~Closed RP~

@annytinthenomad

The Krimzon Guard was a stable place to work if you only wanted to make a living and have a home. There were battles sometimes, yes, and people died to the ever encroaching metal head threat, but you could keep yourself fed, and a family member as well if that's all you were looking to do. Unfortunately, that wasn't all he wanted.

Israel had morals, standards to what he was willing and unwilling to put up with. The horrid acts that the Baron was willing to do to further ensure his rule made him sick. A shaky deal with the enemy to make himself and his guard look like they were putting up a good fight was pathetic, and he'd had enough of it. Hannah was off working and making her own money, and most of his money went to keeping them in a home, so she'd be fine if he left. Today he was going to incite one large act of rebellion.

Making his way into the prisons late at night, he moved with a purpose. Walking into the cells with his armor still on, looking to each of the cells and the individuals inside.

"Back up." He said to the woman in the first cell. Typical procedure for the time being. He looked down at the control panel and opened it, standing before the woman now, staring her down for a moment before slowly reaching down to a pistol attached to his hip and pulling it free.

"I hear you're pretty handy with these." He said softly, spinning the pistol in his hand for a second before tossing it onto the ground in front of her. "Release the others, we're leaving." He instructed, turning and taking his rifle off his back now, going to the next cell over.