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46,402 | 1,258 | 8 | 2,627 | 196 | As she dropped down from tge trees and began walking toward him, Grigori watched and examined his new partner. She seemed thin and graceful, light on her feet. She appeared to be his opposite in many ways, which he didn't mind. As she stopped and bowed in font of Grigori, he followed suit as a respect, smiling as he returned to his upright posture.
When she told him that she would take care of the Grimm, Grigori gave her a nod and gestured toward the beast as he backed away from it and behind her. This would give him a chance to observe her abilities to a small extent, enough for the time being. As she knocked over the tree with her fan and lifted it with a small whirlwind, Grigori guessed that her semblance involved using the air. He watched contentedly as she pierced and shattered the Ursa Major.
"Well let me say that it is my pleasure to meet you, Ezmeralda," Grigori responded, his voice deep and smooth, after she revealed her name to him. "My name is Grigori Zoloti." He flashed a warm smile at her before turning, facing away from the cliff the students were launched from. "We need to go this way, deeper into the woods. I hope you're ready for whatever we find in there..." a small chuckle punctuated the sentence, showing that Grigori expected to have some fun.
Without wasting time, he began to move forward, calling back, "We should hurry, we might be able to do this before the other pairs!" He sprinted through the forest, running on the balls of his feet in order to move faster. Grigori didn't know how to pace his runs, always sprinting full speed when needing to move quikly. He didn't care about pace though, he knew he was a sprinter and not a long distance runner, and embraced it by charging full speed ahead, an unstoppable juggernaut. He ran like this for as long as he could, until he needed to slow down to catch his breath, figuring Ezmeralda might need to catch up anyway. | Name:
Grigori Zoloti
Sex:
Male
Age:
17
Race:
Faunus (Echidna)
Appearance:
Grigori is a large and imposing man for his age, already possesing a physique that would leave some quite envious. His body has little fat and is largely muscle, complemented by the fair tan of his skin. His faunus trait is apparent to anyone who can see his bare back or arms, as they are covered in large golden spines. These spines are averaged to be two feet in length and two inches in diameter, all extremely durable and sharply tipped. He often wears tank-tops to cause the least restriction to these spines, and heavy denim jeans for their sturdiness. His hair is always kept short, though since Grigori cuts his own hair it is often messy. It is a sparkling gold in the sun and a dark blonde in the shade, with slight black streaks running through it. His larger facial bones and broad chin suit him well, framing his charming golden eyes, small nose, and thin lipped mouth nicely.
Height:
187 cm
Weight:
108 kg
Color:
Golden
Personality:
Grigori is most often very relaxed and peaceful. He enjoys spending time with pleasant people and having fun, not known for acting tough or mean despite his appearance. When angered or during combat, Grigori can become hyper-aggressive, having been reported to be laughing uncontrollably during fights in which he got carried away.
Weapon:
A pair of identical spiked gauntlets made of high grade steel. The gauntlets were designed to fit vials of dust in them as an energy source for blades, projectiles, or other applications.
Semblance:
Semblance of Draining - Grigori's semblance allows him to drain energy from his opponent when in close proximity and use it to bolster his own attack and maneuverability. The closer his proximity, the more energy can be drained. Physically touching his opponent allows him to drain vast amounts.
Backstory:
Grigori was born and raised in the kingdom of Vacuo, constantly forced to live in harsh conditions. Born a faunus, he was tormented through his childhood, causing him to grow strong mentally to withstand the bullying. This continued until he was old enough to join Vacuo's huntsman academy, where he began strengthening his body as well. Grigori took a liking to the combat style of boxing through his training, deciding to create a pair of gauntlets to use as his huntsman weapons to complement this style of offense. During his years at Vacuo's academy Grigori learned of his semblance and how to use it effectively, quickly becoming famous throughout the school for his combative prowess. As his time there came to an end, Grigori decided to continue his education at Vale's Beacon academy. He emigrated to Vale shortly after graduating, saying goodbye only to his family and hoping to actually be able to make friends in a new kingdom.
Song:
Big Blast Sonic |
46,403 | 1,258 | 9 | 1,585 | 1,028 | Rost used his sword as a support to lift himself up after his newly found partner fended off the beowolf's initial wave of attacks. Rost rubbed his head and claim,"The little guy snuck up on me out of nowhere,"
Before this new guy could turn his attention back to the beowolf, Rost extended his sword to the stranger's chest and declared, "He's mine. I saw him first,"
Rost began to walk slowly and calmly towards the beast, as he attached his sheath to his right forearm and withdraw the blade. With his blade held down by his side, and a smile on his face, Rost dips the beowolf's next right swipe. Although, it looked as if Rost was going to fall on his face, at the last moment Rost quickly repositioned his feet firmly into the dirt while unhinging his sword at the hilt revealing the twins. With four quick swipes the beowolf fell to his knee, and his right arm went limp. Now it's right side was rendered useless. Sensing it's end nearing, the beowolf left out a battle cry and made a desperate attempt to gouge Rost's face out. The attempt was futile as Rost danced around it, and used his twin blades like a pair of scissors to chop the beast's head clean off. As its body fell limp onto the ground, Rost conjoined his blades back into one, and stepped over the body of the headless monster towards his new friend and gestures for a handshake, "Greetings, my name is Rost," | Name: Xuě Jin Chu
Age: 17
Race: Human
Appearance: Xue has a lean athletic build with no majorly defined muscle groups showing as he mostly lean muscle over bulk. Even though he is lean his muscles do show to a point as there just is not enough body fat to cover them up which is also the reason he has a six pack without much trying. He has snow white hair which is cut short on the sides with some length on the top to allow it to be manageable as when he started to grow it out it will become curly and messy. He has dark grey tired looking eyes which can often be mistaken for blue shaded eyes. Xue enjoyed wearing white tank tops with a blue trim around the edges paired with grey cargo pants with three pockets running down either side of his pants along with black combat boots to finish out his look.
-Height: 5" 7'
-Weight: 163 lbs
Color: Snow White
Personality: Xue is a cheerful person who enjoys other people's company and has a bad habit of trying to hard to impress girls. He has a disillusioned vision of what it is to be a huntsmen and believes that once he becomes a hunter he will gain glory and fame by traveling around destroying Grimm when they attack.
Weapon: Blizzard's Fury- Xuě's weapon is a two-sided scythe attached to a five foot staff. Each blade faces the other way away from each other and are able to fold into the staff portion of the weapon so that when not in use his weapon is just a staff that can be held on his back. Located at both ends of the staff is a container where small vials of dust can be stored to either supplement the blades of the scythe or can be fired as a projectile.
Semblance: Xue is able to control the effects of gravity on objects or people within a two foot radius of his person. He can use his semblance on himself to reduce the pull of gravity allowing him to move faster or on his opponents to slow them down due to the increased gravity on their bodies.
Backstory: Xue Jin Chu is the first hunter from his family in three generations. Xue was raised in the Kingdom of Vale where he always heard stories of huntsmen and huntresses growing up which gave him an imagination for fantastic adventures and battles. His family did not approve of the dangerous profession at first and discouraged it whenever he brought it up. Over several years of nagging and pestering, they finally gave in to Xue and he was allowed to attend Signal Academy where he learned the basics to becoming a huntsmen and where he created Blizzard's Fury. Once he graduated from Signal he was accepted into Beacon Academy to his excitement where he would be able to become a full-fledged Huntsmen. |
46,404 | 1,258 | 10 | 2,627 | 196 | As Grigori's breath returned to him, he took a chance to admire the forest. The trees around him were large, with thick trunks. The greenery and calmness around him was soothing and peaceful at the moment, though he knew what might dwell within. Grigori decided to get moving again, despite his partner seeming to have fallen behind.
He walked at a fast pace through the forest, making sure to break some branches as he went to leave a trail to follow. The walk was quiet aside from his snapping of the trees around him. It let him listen once more for his teammate and for enemies. He couldn't hear Ezmeralda still, but something else caught his attention. Howling, a lot of it.
The rush of beasts running toward prey filled the air as Grigori took a wide fighting stance. He took the jacket from his shoulders and placed it on the ground, activating his gauntlets. From each of his fingers extended foot long claws produced by the dust energy of his gauntlets, fire in the right and ice in the left. As the creatures came into view it was clear they were Beowolves. Grigori waited for them to close in on him, before turning on his heel in a one-eighty and extending all the spines on his body.
The Grimm were too close to avoid the surprise counter-attack, the front runners getting impaled and their brethren crashing against them from behind, driving them further up the spines to death. In the confusion Grigori managed to pull free of the corpses and turn back to face his opponents, keeping his bloodstained quills extended. Waiting for the pack's next move, Grigori smiled and thought to himself, With odds like this, I might end up enjoying myself too much... | Name:
Grigori Zoloti
Sex:
Male
Age:
17
Race:
Faunus (Echidna)
Appearance:
Grigori is a large and imposing man for his age, already possesing a physique that would leave some quite envious. His body has little fat and is largely muscle, complemented by the fair tan of his skin. His faunus trait is apparent to anyone who can see his bare back or arms, as they are covered in large golden spines. These spines are averaged to be two feet in length and two inches in diameter, all extremely durable and sharply tipped. He often wears tank-tops to cause the least restriction to these spines, and heavy denim jeans for their sturdiness. His hair is always kept short, though since Grigori cuts his own hair it is often messy. It is a sparkling gold in the sun and a dark blonde in the shade, with slight black streaks running through it. His larger facial bones and broad chin suit him well, framing his charming golden eyes, small nose, and thin lipped mouth nicely.
Height:
187 cm
Weight:
108 kg
Color:
Golden
Personality:
Grigori is most often very relaxed and peaceful. He enjoys spending time with pleasant people and having fun, not known for acting tough or mean despite his appearance. When angered or during combat, Grigori can become hyper-aggressive, having been reported to be laughing uncontrollably during fights in which he got carried away.
Weapon:
A pair of identical spiked gauntlets made of high grade steel. The gauntlets were designed to fit vials of dust in them as an energy source for blades, projectiles, or other applications.
Semblance:
Semblance of Draining - Grigori's semblance allows him to drain energy from his opponent when in close proximity and use it to bolster his own attack and maneuverability. The closer his proximity, the more energy can be drained. Physically touching his opponent allows him to drain vast amounts.
Backstory:
Grigori was born and raised in the kingdom of Vacuo, constantly forced to live in harsh conditions. Born a faunus, he was tormented through his childhood, causing him to grow strong mentally to withstand the bullying. This continued until he was old enough to join Vacuo's huntsman academy, where he began strengthening his body as well. Grigori took a liking to the combat style of boxing through his training, deciding to create a pair of gauntlets to use as his huntsman weapons to complement this style of offense. During his years at Vacuo's academy Grigori learned of his semblance and how to use it effectively, quickly becoming famous throughout the school for his combative prowess. As his time there came to an end, Grigori decided to continue his education at Vale's Beacon academy. He emigrated to Vale shortly after graduating, saying goodbye only to his family and hoping to actually be able to make friends in a new kingdom.
Song:
Big Blast Sonic |
46,405 | 1,258 | 11 | 2,627 | 196 | As Rost shook Xue's hand, he took the time to more accurately assess his physical capabilities. Rost notices that his white hair companion has a slender build, such as himself, but a little smaller. Due to his size and build, Rost assumes Xue excels at agility and comes up short of power. Although, Xue's double headed scythe is at least as tall as he is, so Rost questions Xue's ability to proficiently wield his own weapon in battle.
In response, Rost states, "We have to head towards the northernmost part of the forest so..." Rost turns slowly until he locates his tracks leading into the clearing. Figuring that he tracked the whistling to the northeast, "Umm, we need to head in this direction," Rost claimed, as he pivoted around and pointed in the direction he believed was a little west of north. "We should move quickly and avoid any unnecessary fights," Rost twirls his blade and smiles at Xue, "Ready, set..." and Rost takes off; dodging, dipping, diving, and dicing his way through the forest. | Name:
Grigori Zoloti
Sex:
Male
Age:
17
Race:
Faunus (Echidna)
Appearance:
Grigori is a large and imposing man for his age, already possesing a physique that would leave some quite envious. His body has little fat and is largely muscle, complemented by the fair tan of his skin. His faunus trait is apparent to anyone who can see his bare back or arms, as they are covered in large golden spines. These spines are averaged to be two feet in length and two inches in diameter, all extremely durable and sharply tipped. He often wears tank-tops to cause the least restriction to these spines, and heavy denim jeans for their sturdiness. His hair is always kept short, though since Grigori cuts his own hair it is often messy. It is a sparkling gold in the sun and a dark blonde in the shade, with slight black streaks running through it. His larger facial bones and broad chin suit him well, framing his charming golden eyes, small nose, and thin lipped mouth nicely.
Height:
187 cm
Weight:
108 kg
Color:
Golden
Personality:
Grigori is most often very relaxed and peaceful. He enjoys spending time with pleasant people and having fun, not known for acting tough or mean despite his appearance. When angered or during combat, Grigori can become hyper-aggressive, having been reported to be laughing uncontrollably during fights in which he got carried away.
Weapon:
A pair of identical spiked gauntlets made of high grade steel. The gauntlets were designed to fit vials of dust in them as an energy source for blades, projectiles, or other applications.
Semblance:
Semblance of Draining - Grigori's semblance allows him to drain energy from his opponent when in close proximity and use it to bolster his own attack and maneuverability. The closer his proximity, the more energy can be drained. Physically touching his opponent allows him to drain vast amounts.
Backstory:
Grigori was born and raised in the kingdom of Vacuo, constantly forced to live in harsh conditions. Born a faunus, he was tormented through his childhood, causing him to grow strong mentally to withstand the bullying. This continued until he was old enough to join Vacuo's huntsman academy, where he began strengthening his body as well. Grigori took a liking to the combat style of boxing through his training, deciding to create a pair of gauntlets to use as his huntsman weapons to complement this style of offense. During his years at Vacuo's academy Grigori learned of his semblance and how to use it effectively, quickly becoming famous throughout the school for his combative prowess. As his time there came to an end, Grigori decided to continue his education at Vale's Beacon academy. He emigrated to Vale shortly after graduating, saying goodbye only to his family and hoping to actually be able to make friends in a new kingdom.
Song:
Big Blast Sonic |
46,406 | 1,258 | 12 | 515 | 4,616 | POW! With a tremendous force the launching pad sent Ferrinas soaring through the sky over the dense woodland, his coat pushed back and flapping with the speed of his launch. As he fell, he nonchalantly checked his Dust, ammo, and a pouch of small iron ingots shaped like coins. "This will be fun." he thought, activating his semblance. Transparant blue lines appeared that he knew led from his chest to every sorce of iron nearby. "I don't need a partner, they will only slow me down." As he neared the tree tops, he grabbed an ingot and threw it in front of himself and Pushed. Nothing happend for a split second, then with a jerk he began to fly upwards, his coat snaping from the sudden change in direction. His Push had proppelled the coin down untill it hit the ground. When it did, it was like he was pushing against the ground. Still flying forward with his initial momentum, and Pushing against the coin, he flipped out another ingot and Pushed sending him back up into the air. "Wooohoooo!!!" He yelled. In this way he covered a lot of ground very quickly. He could keep this up untill he ran out of ingots, but he wanted to conserve his supply. So, decending quickly, he threw out an ingot, but this time he gently Pushed against it, slowing his decent into the trees. As he passed a big thick oak, he reached out with his fistform claw and sunk his fingertips into the bark. He wrapped around the tree in a decending spiral, untill he was low enough to turn the rest of his momentum into a roll. He sprand to his feet, looked around and realized, with a sinking feeling, that he had fallen right into the midst of a massive Ursa pack. After a breif moment of surprise the pack charged him as one."Son of a----!" "ROAAAARRR!!!!" | Name: Ferrinas Onyx Gray
Sex: Male
Age: 17
Race: Human
Appearance: Ferrinas is very tall with jet black messy hair and sharp features. His eyes are the color of molten steel (a red-tinted gray). He likes to wear a big leather duster with a white glove and steel toed combat boots, usually with dark gray shirt and pants underneath. He is very fit with a wiry lean yet muscular build. His most notable feature is his robotic right arm and leg. His arm has three different forms each very different from each other (see weapons). His leg is a simple silvery gray and, other than the obvious, looks normal. He has heavy scarring all over his body with a chararctaistic scar on his face that runs from his hairline, down across his right eye and his mouth ending on his chin.
Personality: Ferrinas acts upbeat and is quick to laugh. It seems like nothing fazes him. He is very smart and is considered an upcoming technological genius. He also has a smart mouth ready to shoot off at anyone in authority or anyone trying to intimidate him. However, Araris is also hardworking and practical when he needs to be. He's skilled at deception and a good liar. He always does what he thinks needs done and screw the consequences. He does not get along well with others and prefers to spend most of his time alone. Sometimes when he is alone he broods on philosophy.
Height: 195.58 centimeters
Weight: 98kg (the arm and leg weigh much more than normal)
Color: Dark Gray (like iron)
Weapons: In his left hand he weilds a massive, curved katana as long as his body. His right arm is his main weapon. It resembles a claw in all three forms. The first form is his usual, it is the weakest and the longest with a sleek silver-gray coloring. The second is much shorter and resembles a demonic claw/hand and is colored black with dark red highlights when this form is out, Ferrinas can go into a berzerker rage. Due to this, the second form is bad for his mental health. The third form is his strongest and strangest looking. He can fire progectiles out of the cannon on its palm, everything from bullets to missles, even pure elemantal power. However, his third form can overheat causing him increadable pain. Each one can incorerate Dust into their attacks in different ways.
Semblance: Semblance of Iron: When he activates his sembance he sees blue lines from his chest that led to any iron. (or any metal with a high iron content) He can mentaly access the lines and Push or Pull on the iron. If he Pushes against something heavier that he is, he will be sent flying in the opposite direction. If he Pushes agaist something lighter than he is, it will be sent flying in that direcion. The reverse is true for Pulling. However, iron in someone's body, even just a little, cannot be pushed or pulled on. He can only push or pull from his center of gravity. His semblance can be blocked by anothor's Aura preventing him from manipulating an opponant's weapon or clothing if it is within the range of the opponant's Aura.
Backstory: Most of his life was normal. Both of his parents were good hunters, so they were not home often and he was raised by his grandparents, both of them retired hunters. When he was ten, his grandmother died and a year later his grandfather died. He then lived with one of his parents untill he was old enough to begin training to be a hunter. Unfortunately, when he was fifteen the craft he and his parents were on malfuntioned and crashed, killing his parents. By some miracle Ferrinas survived but with horrible injuries and his right arm and leg were crushed. He spent a year coping with his injuries, beliving that he whould never become a hunter. But then, a medical science breakthrough provided some hope. The scientist found that with correct technology and alot of Dust, mechanical parts could be grafted on to a person and connected directly to the subjuct's brain, bypassing any inherent lameness or nerve damage. Eagerly Ferrinas contacted them and volunteered for a prototype. At first they wanted to give him a normal looking arm, but he declined and personaly desined his own weaponized arm. The procedure was a success, barring a few side affects and small control problems. A year later he has been accepted at Beacon and is already making a name for himself there.
Song: Radioactive by Imagine Dragons |
46,407 | 1,259 | 0 | 958 | 542 | Tooth and Claw
The beating sun baked the arena, it's heat glowing off of the coarse grains of sand as droves after droves of people lined the elevated seating arrangements of the colosseum. Built to resemble the great monoliths of old, this particular arena was a site of grandeur and hardships, a gritty scene that held the crowd's attention indefinitely with it's romanticization of honorable battle. The spectators were especially engrossed in uncleaned bloodstains kept at the bottom of the pit, women and their children pointing at the caked-on mess and laughing. Electronic fans were positioned throughout the stadium to give relief to the heated attendants, for many people had come to see this interesting fight. It was rumored that the fight was to be a larger free-for-all, and that four houses had agreed to supply their gladiators. Truly, it was rare to see that many houses grouping up with that many brawlers. Surely this would be a long and intriguing deathmatch, a main event that could easily sate the most bloodthirsty of Merkadia's citizens. And speaking of the main event, here it came!
The houses, flying their respective colors proud and high, marched around the bottom of the colliseum to a grand fanfare. Confetti was flown and drums were beat as a parade of Merkadian nationalism pleased the now cheering crowd. Trumpets were blared ever louder as each autocratic group had it's turn to visually boast to the above crowd. The gladiators were shown off most prominently, though, each one getting to glimpse one-another as they stood silently in lines facing the masses, allowing the excited citizens time to mentally graded each synthetic slave's physique for themselves. Magnus, one of these standing behemoths in the Scalpaleon line-up, heard the slight shouting of his stage name 'Steel demon', but brushed such praise off. The crowd also yelled names like "Skitter", "Tooth-Taker", etc., very foreign names that seemed to indicate a more diverse crowd than usual. Yet, the diversity did not stop there, as creatures that were only fragments of a past humanoid started to file in. For once, he was thankful for a house that merely indulged in metal-grafted armor. Bloated monstrosities that seemed to be made from composted flesh, followed by a house that provided only one, ragged gladiator with skin that slipped, it was all especially strange. Magnus definently was not in the least excited to fight with these changed... beasts. Luckily, to the metal man's surprise, a lone human, un-modified, presented himself for the barbaric pit fighting in the stead of a rather militaristic house. The man certainly seemed a brave fellow, many men would have offed themselves before entering this hell hole. As the celebrations wiled down, and the gladiators were put into their waiting cages (large, bared boxes hanging from the sides of the arena), the house officials started their ascension to their seats of honor in the spectator seats above. A large, fat-man clothed in robes entered the ring to specify the rules of pit-fighting and the kind of free-for-all situation that the slaves would be combating in. None of this was new to the steel veteran, and thus, he simply looked around to take a second gander of the types he was to battle.
Low-and-behold, there sat the human, looking pathetic as he diddled about with the bars of his enclosure. Surrounded by only this man, a large insect menace, and the strange-skinned man from before, Magnus decided that perhaps the unmodified male was the only lingual one out of the bunch. As the large man in the center of the pit continued his speech on necessary regulations, those of which were painfully drawn-out and would not be followed anyways, Magnus proposed his spare-time to converse with this only somewhat distressed man.
"You are already at a disadvantage physically, thus, I will try not to kill you. But I must ask: How did you convince your master to not bio-engineer you?" | Accepted Characters Only
Character Name: Magnus, the Steel Demon
Sex: Male
A large, steel carapace-clad, giant of a man, Magnus's terrifying demeanor and ghoulish looks are a mainstay of his pit infamy. Though not the most popular of brawlers, he has his few wicked fans.
The Scalpaleon Syndicate
A club of gamblers and crooks, The Scalpaleon Syndicate keeps it's power through cheating and wealth. Multiple times they have rigged pit fights in their favor in order to secure more coin. The Scalpaloens are one of the sleaziest of houses.
Biological Enhancements:
Man of Steel: Magnus is covered neck-to-toe in carapace-like steel, giving him improved protection from blunt or battering attacks, and somewhat stopping piercing blades.
Metal 'ead: Under the fragile flesh of Magnus's head lies thick, iron plating. This protection is great for headbutting and stopping blows that would chop his head clean off. Even durable yellow plastics have been put over his eyes to ensure that he will see his prey die all the way through.
Harpy's Talons: Trading small stubby fingers for long, vicious metal claws, Magnus is built to deal with his opponents as a shredder deals with paper.
Synthetic Circulation: Magnus's plating isn't only protection, but also an extension of himself. Blood vessels and an additional heart have been worked into the carapace to improve the circulation of Magnus's body, creating a man that can endure much more running, beating, and bleeding then the average cybernetic Joe.
Emotional Control: Due to Magnus being much more pacifistic than they would like, The Scalpaleon Syndicate have programmed the steel demon with a control panel at the stem of the neck. Via remote control, his masters can render Magnus completely rageful, silent, or back to normal.
Personality: A pacifist and very philosophical, Magnus is a kind soul who's synthetic exterior truly betrays him. If he is to avoid a fight, he will, but if backed into a corner he can become extremely fierce. Otherwise, he is an intelligent gentleman that can get even squeamish and/or cowardly at times. Violence is his greatest nemesis.
History: Sold as a slave to the Scalpaleon Syndicate due to his father, a noble of said organization, losing an arrogant bet, Magnus's life has been bitter yet cruelly educational. Through terrible scientific procedures and violent trials he has become what he is, and though trauma still haunts him, he has learnt that outcry and hate only fuel the fire of Merkadia's entertainment industry. The teachings have truly scared the careful giant, but Magnus has chosen to accept this new information, and now wishes to bring about the end of Merkadia's sadistic pleasures through ways of extinguishing it's mounting flame. |
46,408 | 1,259 | 1 | 1,650 | 712 | The rebel looked around for any kind of a weapon when he was engaged by the deadly colossus. It was quite surprising that such a creature was so articulate with his words.
"Heh.. Yeah about that. I kind of broke his nose when he bought me. Uppity bastard deserved it." Crispin looked at the other gladiators. The bug troubled him the most because at least tall, broad scissor-hands here was talking and even considering mercy. "You can call me Xander. So uh.. Do they have weapons or traps for this? If not I'm going to have to get really creative." | Character Name: Crispin Xander
Sex: Male
A generally suave looking fellow with absolutely no modifications. A normal human.
Tsargorav
Tsargorav is a militaristic faction led by a family of the same name that helps keep Merkadian forces armed to the teeth and trained to respond quickly. They profit mostly off of the sales their weapons make including the shadier aspects of their business.
Biological Enhancements:
Absolutely none.
Personality:
Crispin is stoic and rebellious. Willful strength is something he has in droves and he isn't afraid to let everyone else know. He admits that part of his strength comes from his Christian belief, a religion that has been in massive decline since the rise of the Merkadian regime long ago.
This rebel is in a state of mind where he knows he will die eventually and he damned well will do as much as he can to make it take as long as possible. Maybe if he lasts long enough his cause won't totally die with him.
History: Here's a short story instead!
"Crispin Xander?" A rather short man confirmed, looking down on the chained rebel from atop a stand. "THE Xander? Hah, you lasted a while out there didn't you?" Crispin looked up at the auctioneer before looking back at the ground in silence. A lot of his energy had been beaten out of him the last time he tried to fight back. "Come now. I've given you permission to speak, so speak!" The weasely auctioneer demanded.
Crispin tried to posture himself against the pole that held him in line with the other men and failed against the solid bindings. It was a showing of new slaves for the arena and corporations, syndicates and other houses were here to bid for them. Finally he looked up at the diminutive man's eyes, staring coldly at him. "Just kill me you little shit stain." The auctioneer beamed wickedly at him, triumphant in getting a rise.
"Oh we'll see who the shit stain is after the beasts of the arena eat you." He chuckled at his own clever remark."Xander, you and your men here have been condemned to fight in the arena until death. Your little escapades mean nothing anymore. Play nice because you're going to help line Merkadia with profit. See? Even your death will mean something!" The little auctioneer boasted.
Men in suits and various other types of ornamental outfits started walking in to see the day's haul of merchandise. "Here they are. Grovel and you might get a nice patron." The little man whispered.
A man in a black suit, lined with red gilding started eying Crispin's line as the other patrons spread around the chamber to look at others. He was middle-aged, wrinkles just setting into his eyes and gray hints striking his hairline. He looked up and down at each person with the kind of passionless poise of a man deciding what he wanted for dinner. He paused in front of Crispin and turned to look back at the auction master. Who promptly asked him a question, "Is something the matter, sir?"
"Is something the matter he says? Of course something is the matter. This merchandise is battered. Damaged merchandise is not worth such a cost. Even if it is rebel scum you should have just executed them!" He turned and leaned in toward Crispin. "Especially this one." Crispin scowled at him before forcing himself forward and head butting the man in the face. The patron fell on the ground cradling his face as some blood dripped between his hands onto the expensive suit. The hands muffled the string of curses he spat out.
The auctioneer acted immediately, arming himself with the shockstaff he kept handy against his stand and prodding Crispin. The rebel clenched and shook involuntarily as the shock hit him. "Stop!" The patron shouted, word partially muffled by the handkerchief he had pulled out to cover his bleeding nose. "This one has fire. I will enjoy snuffing it out." He wiped the blood from his nose and glanced at the rest of the line. "These are all his troop?" He questioned the auctioneer.
"Yes, Mr. Tsargorav." The auctioneer responded instantly.
"Good, I will buy them." He blew blood into the handkerchief and continued." ... At a discount!"
"A discount sir?" The auctioneer looked puzzled. A threatening leer from Mr. Tsargorav was enough to coerce him. "Of course sir, for damage done, a discount."
The Tsargorav looked the rebel in the eyes, staying away enough to avoid another sharp head butt. "You've made me bleed. I will enjoy finding creative activities for you to make me money. You will survive so long as I allow it." He turned away to motion for some of his retainers. "Don't worry, I won't keep you waiting."
Quick Overview: Crispin Xander is a notorious rebel who lasted for months in Merkadia without being caught, causing all kinds of havoc until special forces finally tracked him down. It is unusual for anyone to give military forces so much trouble. They killed most of his men before capturing the rest with non-lethal weaponry to ensure there were no more insurgencies to be had. As a show of good will to their national past time they enrolled the remaining few who were not tortured to death for information to spend the remainder of their short lives entertaining Merkadia. |
46,409 | 1,259 | 2 | 673 | 764 | This was only their third bout and those 2 had been much smaller, only for advent crowds. Tryouts the master had called them, this was the real thing. Still they knew what to expect. carnage. blood. death. But also a freedom from the confines of the lab, the tests, the cramped quarters, and that awful stagnant synthetic smelling air. Out here the air only smelled of blood, sweat and fear which was a slight improvement and there would be space to run about.
They where both scared and eager to get out of this cage, fidgeting, constantly re-positioning their spike feet to try and get the best possible starting position. They eyed up their opponents, a large metal plated man, a skeletal thin man with a mutilated face and a man with no obvious changes. Humans they had never fought before, only advents post human horrors like the dancing Viper King or the centipedel Pain Train.
the metal man and the normal human spoke of mercy, traps and weapons.
"I offer no guarantees of your survival Xander, if you poison yourself on my spines as we fight it will be your own undoing. Metal-man may do well to not judge by appearance, who knows what the two man-things may be hiding, it could be a trap. It must be a trap. They will wait for us to fight and then spit acid or grow knives out their knuckles or..."
they devolve into unintelligible paranoid chittering. | Character Name: subject 274/Buru-Enmeli/Emily/Skitter
Sex: Doesn’t really matter anymore. Nominally female.
Advent
Ruffly 6 feet tall
A house who's main stray is the research and production of more… unusual Biological crations. Unrestricted modification of, and perhaps a disdain for, the human form, advent strives to create the perfect life form for for every purpose, be they pet, livestock, slave and even to improve themselves. While their creations are with no doubt effective (their exotic pets are particular popular, as are their monstrosities for the arena) there is less certainty whether they are more cost effective than simply using unmodified workers and machines. Most are not as enthusiastic as the advent house members to enter an age of true post-humanism, their intensive self modification considered somewhat distasteful. As a result the most public figures don’t show as much modification as the more secluded members, who have cast of humanity entirely, or dress in clothing that conceal their more bizarre changes while escorted by the more stylish, if still odd, slave soldiers.
Apart from research and bio-engineering the house’s other incomes are from recycling and waste management of the city. They also are sometimes contracted to take care of the “trash” by wealthy individuals, clearing out pockets of dissenters, homeless and anyone else who they might want to disappear. The same semi intelligent hive drones are used for both purposes, swarming settlements or collecting and sorting out useful materials from the huge amount of waste produced by the city. Large behemoths and flying beetles are used as shock troops or garbage collection.
Their master is one of the more influential and public semi independent scientists who work for the house. So long as their work produces some monetary income demonstrating their work has some value and they aren’t wasting house sponsorship on personal projects or self modification, they are given freedom to do pretty much as they please and a small personal army of the house's drones.
Additional details:
I should add some clarification as to what those drones are in the char section, they are basically reanimated corpses rather than living slaves, like my char is, so in a way they are recycling. In their minds they are using the current system to advance humanity, to eventually replace the entire work force with drones and lift humanity beyond what evolution gave them. The dead shall provide for the living and Merkadia shall become a post-human utopia. or that's what they believe they are doing anyway, but they lack focus. Mainly they just tinker in labs making whatever each scientist thinks is a good idea at the time, be they glow in the dark ferrets, snake people, gladiators or giving themselves extra arms. Which is what happens when you give a bunch of mad scientists a research budget and tell them to go make stuff that might benefit Merkadia and the house.
Biological Enhancements:
Chitinous skin: covered in razor sharp armored plaits, while not as effective as grafting metal to the body they are lighter and allow more freedom of movement.
Mandible and spines: A mouth full of knives, claws like daggers, blades on their 4 legs and basically spikes everywhere on their armor.
Enhanced movement abilities: their 4 legs let them both run at about the same speed as a small horse, let them jump considerable heights, quickly dig tunnels in soft terrain and climb by stabbing their shape legs into walls.
Poison: Their sharp points can secrete a neurotoxin that will slowly cripple the target, this can be used either directly or smeared on weapons. As a result of being covered in the stuff they are designed to be immune to it and their blood can act as an anti-venom for it if dunk by others. Production can be turned on and off.
They aren't noticeably stronger than an un-augmented human so they rely on speed and the slow crippling by poison to fight.
Personality:
They used to be a rather peaceful individual, who enjoyed singing, reading and good music. Most of these things have been lost along, their new body is a coiled spring of tension, paranoia and aggression meaning they find it difficult to relax, their voice a disgusting grating mess from their inhuman mouth means they can no-longer sing. On the other hand their new body feels amazing when they are allowed to unleash it, the speed and power they have in those brief moments of freedom before the bloody carnage begins are glorious. They despise their master for taking their voice and for caging them but they can understand their willingness to abandon human forms, for they have never felt more alive, if only they could have the freedom to use their body for their own desire rather than to fight and kill other unfortunate souls.
History:
They are but one of the many slaves taken from a remote town that was recently re-pacified by advent forces, a farmhand who had nothing to do with the group that brought the ire of some house member but when the swarm come they will indiscriminately abduct individuals and their masters mark them down as collaborators in paperwork. Either no-one has noticed or cares about this practice so they were taken away, held for an in determinant amount of time before undergoing extensive modification and genetic engineering to become the monstrosity they are now.
The Advent Scientist has set them up as a gladiator after they performed well against the house's basic drones, for the purpose of further testing and to gain some income to prove they are doing useful work for the house. Having had their name and original appearance scrubbed from their memory and having only been a number, their gladiator name was given as buru-enmeli but they go by the more human Emily when they can. Known as Skitter by crowds for their appearance, style of combat and because buru-enmeli is pretentious as fuck. |
46,410 | 1,259 | 3 | 958 | 542 | The restless creature turned around in it's container as it spat back at the two's conversation, surprisingly able to construct coherent sentences, if only for a time. This legitimately spooked the large bionic. Bringing himself closer to Xander so he could continue the conversation in whispers, Magnus hoped the giant bug didn't have advanced hearing as well.
"They do not supply weapons, yet, there are many ways to get one. Tearing off a person's arm is a popular strategy", continued the Steel Demon. He felt compelled to help the defenseless human, most likely put in here only to die because of his master's sick sense of revenge. Unfairness was one of the only things that this terrible slave truly abhorred.
"And do remember, this insect right here only has chitin, so he's most likely the easiest target", he continued. "But be careful...", the metal behemoth continued to advise, "He just told you about poison". This fact would also prove a problem for Magnus, his whole body essentially an extended circulatory system. The large, robed man in the center started to wind down his useless chattering, and to the gladiator's dismay, the traditional trumpet anthem of Merkadian pit-fighting started. At most, they had 30 seconds until death reined. | Accepted Characters Only
Character Name: Magnus, the Steel Demon
Sex: Male
A large, steel carapace-clad, giant of a man, Magnus's terrifying demeanor and ghoulish looks are a mainstay of his pit infamy. Though not the most popular of brawlers, he has his few wicked fans.
The Scalpaleon Syndicate
A club of gamblers and crooks, The Scalpaleon Syndicate keeps it's power through cheating and wealth. Multiple times they have rigged pit fights in their favor in order to secure more coin. The Scalpaloens are one of the sleaziest of houses.
Biological Enhancements:
Man of Steel: Magnus is covered neck-to-toe in carapace-like steel, giving him improved protection from blunt or battering attacks, and somewhat stopping piercing blades.
Metal 'ead: Under the fragile flesh of Magnus's head lies thick, iron plating. This protection is great for headbutting and stopping blows that would chop his head clean off. Even durable yellow plastics have been put over his eyes to ensure that he will see his prey die all the way through.
Harpy's Talons: Trading small stubby fingers for long, vicious metal claws, Magnus is built to deal with his opponents as a shredder deals with paper.
Synthetic Circulation: Magnus's plating isn't only protection, but also an extension of himself. Blood vessels and an additional heart have been worked into the carapace to improve the circulation of Magnus's body, creating a man that can endure much more running, beating, and bleeding then the average cybernetic Joe.
Emotional Control: Due to Magnus being much more pacifistic than they would like, The Scalpaleon Syndicate have programmed the steel demon with a control panel at the stem of the neck. Via remote control, his masters can render Magnus completely rageful, silent, or back to normal.
Personality: A pacifist and very philosophical, Magnus is a kind soul who's synthetic exterior truly betrays him. If he is to avoid a fight, he will, but if backed into a corner he can become extremely fierce. Otherwise, he is an intelligent gentleman that can get even squeamish and/or cowardly at times. Violence is his greatest nemesis.
History: Sold as a slave to the Scalpaleon Syndicate due to his father, a noble of said organization, losing an arrogant bet, Magnus's life has been bitter yet cruelly educational. Through terrible scientific procedures and violent trials he has become what he is, and though trauma still haunts him, he has learnt that outcry and hate only fuel the fire of Merkadia's entertainment industry. The teachings have truly scared the careful giant, but Magnus has chosen to accept this new information, and now wishes to bring about the end of Merkadia's sadistic pleasures through ways of extinguishing it's mounting flame. |
46,411 | 1,259 | 4 | 2,107 | 933 | The arena was present in spirit but Reginus was not. His house had walked in with men covered in robes and with their eyes closed, walking serenely while holding his hands in leather bindings. His wrists had long since started to bruise from the constant wear of them on his delicate surface. His back was straight but his face lacked the strength to stand fully at attention, if his eyes were open they may of looked at the floor but his chin would have to do instead. His once fellow worshipers stripped him of any bondage, standing in nothing but white, under wear. The once pure skin had been covered in dried blood that now looked like soiled tissues on him.
The filth was lazily was splashed away by the flicking of fingers sprayed in water from a ceremonial clay bowel. Most of it was flung at his face violently while the monks kept their eyes sealed shut or merely looked away from him, uttering solemnly "To peace, Coward" his voice vacant of warmth, a tiny spill of obligation and exhaustion boiling out of his heart. The flag of a the holy symbol was blue, glowing with electronics over head behind him while he stood there with the tiny part of dignity he had left.
Sitting in it with his legs crossed over and his hands gripping his knees. Peering to the left and to the right as the others talk before looking directly at the chattering of the bug in rapid monologue of his worries "You know..." he started, stopping as if processing that he trying to converse with a monster out of a sci fi block buster, then starting again "The human body is more capable than some spikes and daggers....." he started with an intake of a breath as he raised his hand as if to offer a larger point but slowly dropped it and looked away as he said simply "Sometimes, the most dangerous things are those that present no danger at all..." he settled, looking forward as the mass of manic organs slowed down into a rhythmic beat.
Whether that signaled relaxation or anticipation is anyone's guess. | Character Name: Coward (Ex name: Reginus Latida)
Stage Name: Tooth Taker.
Sex: Male/Eunich
Appearance:
Humanoid in form, his body is partially skeletal with the clear lines of his ribs waving to the world with each release of breath. His spine pokes out line mole hills when bending and his skinny arms lack any loose skin or fat, making the small slab of muscles peek out like wrapped butcher meat. Ten fingers, Ten toes, a normal heart beat and standing at a unintimidating size of 5,6 even by normal human standards he appears almost unmodified by most respect.
A dreamy cloak of skin shrouds his insides, white like silk and smooth like satin, stains dance on it like oil on water. Not mixing and seeming out of place. This image of a man is broken on his face, his eyes are sowed shut, each of his lids stretched out in massive bags as unknown organs and liquids squirm and pulsate within them. His nostril expand several lumps where his nose joint would be and his mouth is stuffed with several intestines that whistle as he takes each breath. A voice of a man, loudly but calmly escapes an open hole from a loose tube that peeks out from the mess inside his expanded gullet.
Autocratic House: "The Flow" or Estadics Reliada
0 0 0
Symbol: \ I /
0 _ /\/\/\/\ _ 0
/ I \
0 0 0
the Flow came forth as a spiritual reading of Electricity. The concept of positive and negative charges, and how energy moves became the basis for a new spiritual awakening. Originally a scorned cult, it's rapid growth lead many smaller houses and peasants to give them land and money to the point that The Flow spiritual leaders had just as much power collectively as most autocratic houses. Their ascension is a populist one. It doesn't have blood nor deeds to make it a power.
Seven saints were chosen, six answered. Each of these saints subjected themselves to extreme bio-engineering so they may gain a deeper understanding of the universe. Ultimately however, the flow knew that monsters can't dictate mankind to men. After many meditations and scribes, each sacrificed themselves in a message against a matter of society they found evil. Seven were called, six answered.
The Coward fled on his own sacrifice. Meaning to fight a blood thirsty houses head gladiator one on one, without fighting back. In need of satisfactions his temple of disciple were killed and land taken. The Coward was quickly found by the unorganized followers put into the ring. He will fight and partake in barbarity, finishing his hypocrisy or he will die in redemption.
Biological Enhancements:
Beyond Earthly Troubles: The skin that webs his body reacts to blunt and slashing damage with a small, powerful squirt of satin like goop that cements on the touch of air. In essence, new silky skin grows where it has been lost in seconds. Allowing him not to bleed.
The Flow: The new organs inside his skull are made to assist his higher brain functions. The speed of thought of rapidly increased, allowing him to process emotions and think longer in shorter periods.
Sins on the inside: In order to provoke a greater sense of empathy, each of the monks were given sensitive nerves that scream in pain when attacked. What could be a mild for some can be agonizing for the changed.
Master Controller: His extreme addition of frontal lobe support allows total control of his body, from stopping his own heart to inducing certain chemicals on command. The most visible example is the capacity to control all muscles, turning his tiny frame into an imposing force.
Personality:
Reginus is a violently passionate person with a lot of ideas from everything in life, acting with an outspoken nature unbridled by the concept of humility. Quick to say his piece, he will rise his voice to the occasion despite his fears or other attitudes but he, himself while able to come up with ideas on life he inwardly lacks any connection to it. Never satisfied with his own musing nor teachings, a linger of doubt disconnects him from what he invests in.
His guilt looms around him for his failure to find faith that he always purported to have. He switches between a wide range of emotions. Unable to process them and not willing to discuss them. He carries his guilt in silence, but his personality lets slip the damage it has done.
History: (mostly tied up in his house. This will be personal)
One of the most powerful faces of the movement, he regularly spoke loudly at meetings and was unabashed about his controversial ideas. Constantly talking about paths to higher awareness and topics of equality, earning him many press interviews.
Unlike the other masters whom were put together by the first monk and meditated for twenty years. The Coward was a purely public figure and pushed into his position by his media and public love. In many cases the populace thought that he was in fact the leader of the movement entirely. His beginnings were in the art of agricultural industries for most of his childhood and his later years, having been born into the lands of a rural and obscure house that soon fell apart due to inward issues. |
46,412 | 1,259 | 5 | 958 | 542 | Everything seemed to be not what Magnus assumed. Not only did the bug chime in, but so did the disgusting sack of skin. It's breathing became very... strange, stranger than what it had said in response to the metal man's, Xander's, and the insect's conversation. Magnus was to be sure to be careful with this plethora of unpredictable, strange abominations. It really wasn't the first time that he had to make this decision, Merkadia most definitely loved it's unimaginably terrible biological designs. The trumpeting ended, and thus, the arena-fight was heralded. The electronic locks on all the cages were deactivated, and hell with it's gladiators were released. Advents horrific beasts flooded onto the shining bodies of the Scalpaleon elite, the lone human went on to this own accord and the sleek-skinned man was no where to be seen.
Magnus took his first offensive approaching the only moderately protected mantis creature that he had converse with earlier, an easy target if he could get his hands on it. Yet, his legs seemed to betray him, standing completely still and preventing him movement. A tail, green, slimy, and scaled, wrapped itself around the Steel Demon's mode of transportation, keeping him in place and almost wrapping around him like a boa. An Advent beast grinned as it slowly killed it's valiant prey.
Almost as slowly came the pain, and then the burst of anger in Magnus's mind. A release of chemicals propelling his body into a frenzy he never willed to happen, an unnatural shift in power and emotion that the terrible creature never saw coming. The tail became strips of meat as Magnus tightened his muscles and brought his gigantic claws into the inside of the creature's fleshy extension. Viscera sprayed, coating the angered giant in a metallic-like red. An irony taste came to his lips as he brought the limping body of the snake-humanoid upwards, and started his own constriction. His large metal palms compressed the reptile's puny head, a horrible and crowd-pleasing death that his master's willed him to do. After he had destroyed this beast, he knew many awaited. "So much for being careful..." | Accepted Characters Only
Character Name: Magnus, the Steel Demon
Sex: Male
A large, steel carapace-clad, giant of a man, Magnus's terrifying demeanor and ghoulish looks are a mainstay of his pit infamy. Though not the most popular of brawlers, he has his few wicked fans.
The Scalpaleon Syndicate
A club of gamblers and crooks, The Scalpaleon Syndicate keeps it's power through cheating and wealth. Multiple times they have rigged pit fights in their favor in order to secure more coin. The Scalpaloens are one of the sleaziest of houses.
Biological Enhancements:
Man of Steel: Magnus is covered neck-to-toe in carapace-like steel, giving him improved protection from blunt or battering attacks, and somewhat stopping piercing blades.
Metal 'ead: Under the fragile flesh of Magnus's head lies thick, iron plating. This protection is great for headbutting and stopping blows that would chop his head clean off. Even durable yellow plastics have been put over his eyes to ensure that he will see his prey die all the way through.
Harpy's Talons: Trading small stubby fingers for long, vicious metal claws, Magnus is built to deal with his opponents as a shredder deals with paper.
Synthetic Circulation: Magnus's plating isn't only protection, but also an extension of himself. Blood vessels and an additional heart have been worked into the carapace to improve the circulation of Magnus's body, creating a man that can endure much more running, beating, and bleeding then the average cybernetic Joe.
Emotional Control: Due to Magnus being much more pacifistic than they would like, The Scalpaleon Syndicate have programmed the steel demon with a control panel at the stem of the neck. Via remote control, his masters can render Magnus completely rageful, silent, or back to normal.
Personality: A pacifist and very philosophical, Magnus is a kind soul who's synthetic exterior truly betrays him. If he is to avoid a fight, he will, but if backed into a corner he can become extremely fierce. Otherwise, he is an intelligent gentleman that can get even squeamish and/or cowardly at times. Violence is his greatest nemesis.
History: Sold as a slave to the Scalpaleon Syndicate due to his father, a noble of said organization, losing an arrogant bet, Magnus's life has been bitter yet cruelly educational. Through terrible scientific procedures and violent trials he has become what he is, and though trauma still haunts him, he has learnt that outcry and hate only fuel the fire of Merkadia's entertainment industry. The teachings have truly scared the careful giant, but Magnus has chosen to accept this new information, and now wishes to bring about the end of Merkadia's sadistic pleasures through ways of extinguishing it's mounting flame. |
46,413 | 1,259 | 6 | 1,650 | 712 | Thanks Magnus. Don't you go dying on me now, if you do there's no way I'm getting out of this. Maybe some day we'll be able to fix this world. It's a far fetch but I'd like to hope we can. Captivity and failure hadn't slowed this man down. Xander would never readily give in to this gruesome fate. Come what may he was going to fight it.
Xander followed Magnus out of the cage. He kept a good deal of distance from the colossus but if he were to survive this encounter it would be by avoiding an unarmed fight with these monsters. Magnus struggled only briefly with his first victim and after a moment of savagery crushed its head with seemingly little effort. Xander couldn't help but think of himself being squished in similar fashion like an insect in the hands of a child curious to know what its guts looked like.
The rebel moved quickly, doing his best to avoid attention as chaos and combat prevailed all around. He rushed up to the smashed snake and examined what was left of its head. Though its skull was effectively crushed most of the teeth still remained intact. Xander certainly didn't have the overpowering strength of Magnus, who casually spoke of ripping arms off to use as a weapon. Pfft! That wasn't ideal, this rebel wasn't a monster. Putting two and two together, Xander daringly put his hands along the fangs and ripped them loose. He was careful not to cut himself along them. Knowing this crazed arena it was likely to be designed to kill quickly or perhaps in more sinister fashion cause intense and debilitating pain to entertain the crowd. Either way it would be useful.
A snake hybrid like that many others scattered around the ring caught interest in him, likely hoping for an easy kill. That had to be Xander's greatest strength. No one in here feared him, they would all underestimate him. The snake drifted quickly, using the genetics it was given with efficiency. It was intimidating to look at as it slithered closer. In place of seeking cover or trying to hide Xander sprinted straight at it. The snake's jaws opened, a hiss escaping as its tongue slipped out. It was prepared to bite. If he tried to hit the head directly he tempted being bitten, even a graze would prove deadly. Instead he jumped at it sideways, slamming it in the chest and tackling it to the ground. It squirmed and writhed to right itself. Xander drove a fang into its eye. Whether or not it was immune to poison didn't matter, he'd just keep pushing until it stopped moving. Once the fang was buried and it quit squirming he looked up to see a more humanoid opponent moving his way.
This next adversary was more cautious. Blood already littered his bony claws. Unlike Magnus this combatant was of average human height but it looked to be built for quickness over massive power. Almost as if it were meant to bleed out larger opponents while evading them. It wore cargo shorts but its skin was thin, showing rippling reddish muscle beneath. Bone spurs protruded from its elbows, knees and finger tips. It even had two horns coming out of its bald head. It frowned tiredly. "Just another execution match I see. I suppose to thin out the rabble before the pros fight." It paused, looking at its victim as a cook would look at a recipe. Taking in every detail as its eagle-like eyes darted back and forth. "I'm sorry they sent you here to die. It's nothing personal. This is just the ring after all." It started advancing toward Xander, steady and watching for quick movements, fully aware of what the rebel did to the snake.
"Yeah. And I'm sorry for whoever has to look at you every morning. You look like the road kill a plastic surgeon tried to save." Xander taunted.
The adversary grinned. It wasn't in the least bit offended. "Fair enough. I wasn't made to be beautiful." Its grin widened. Every tooth in its mouth was a fang. A smile out of nightmares. "I was made to kill you. That is all the joy I can get out of this existence." It started charging at him. | Character Name: Crispin Xander
Sex: Male
A generally suave looking fellow with absolutely no modifications. A normal human.
Tsargorav
Tsargorav is a militaristic faction led by a family of the same name that helps keep Merkadian forces armed to the teeth and trained to respond quickly. They profit mostly off of the sales their weapons make including the shadier aspects of their business.
Biological Enhancements:
Absolutely none.
Personality:
Crispin is stoic and rebellious. Willful strength is something he has in droves and he isn't afraid to let everyone else know. He admits that part of his strength comes from his Christian belief, a religion that has been in massive decline since the rise of the Merkadian regime long ago.
This rebel is in a state of mind where he knows he will die eventually and he damned well will do as much as he can to make it take as long as possible. Maybe if he lasts long enough his cause won't totally die with him.
History: Here's a short story instead!
"Crispin Xander?" A rather short man confirmed, looking down on the chained rebel from atop a stand. "THE Xander? Hah, you lasted a while out there didn't you?" Crispin looked up at the auctioneer before looking back at the ground in silence. A lot of his energy had been beaten out of him the last time he tried to fight back. "Come now. I've given you permission to speak, so speak!" The weasely auctioneer demanded.
Crispin tried to posture himself against the pole that held him in line with the other men and failed against the solid bindings. It was a showing of new slaves for the arena and corporations, syndicates and other houses were here to bid for them. Finally he looked up at the diminutive man's eyes, staring coldly at him. "Just kill me you little shit stain." The auctioneer beamed wickedly at him, triumphant in getting a rise.
"Oh we'll see who the shit stain is after the beasts of the arena eat you." He chuckled at his own clever remark."Xander, you and your men here have been condemned to fight in the arena until death. Your little escapades mean nothing anymore. Play nice because you're going to help line Merkadia with profit. See? Even your death will mean something!" The little auctioneer boasted.
Men in suits and various other types of ornamental outfits started walking in to see the day's haul of merchandise. "Here they are. Grovel and you might get a nice patron." The little man whispered.
A man in a black suit, lined with red gilding started eying Crispin's line as the other patrons spread around the chamber to look at others. He was middle-aged, wrinkles just setting into his eyes and gray hints striking his hairline. He looked up and down at each person with the kind of passionless poise of a man deciding what he wanted for dinner. He paused in front of Crispin and turned to look back at the auction master. Who promptly asked him a question, "Is something the matter, sir?"
"Is something the matter he says? Of course something is the matter. This merchandise is battered. Damaged merchandise is not worth such a cost. Even if it is rebel scum you should have just executed them!" He turned and leaned in toward Crispin. "Especially this one." Crispin scowled at him before forcing himself forward and head butting the man in the face. The patron fell on the ground cradling his face as some blood dripped between his hands onto the expensive suit. The hands muffled the string of curses he spat out.
The auctioneer acted immediately, arming himself with the shockstaff he kept handy against his stand and prodding Crispin. The rebel clenched and shook involuntarily as the shock hit him. "Stop!" The patron shouted, word partially muffled by the handkerchief he had pulled out to cover his bleeding nose. "This one has fire. I will enjoy snuffing it out." He wiped the blood from his nose and glanced at the rest of the line. "These are all his troop?" He questioned the auctioneer.
"Yes, Mr. Tsargorav." The auctioneer responded instantly.
"Good, I will buy them." He blew blood into the handkerchief and continued." ... At a discount!"
"A discount sir?" The auctioneer looked puzzled. A threatening leer from Mr. Tsargorav was enough to coerce him. "Of course sir, for damage done, a discount."
The Tsargorav looked the rebel in the eyes, staying away enough to avoid another sharp head butt. "You've made me bleed. I will enjoy finding creative activities for you to make me money. You will survive so long as I allow it." He turned away to motion for some of his retainers. "Don't worry, I won't keep you waiting."
Quick Overview: Crispin Xander is a notorious rebel who lasted for months in Merkadia without being caught, causing all kinds of havoc until special forces finally tracked him down. It is unusual for anyone to give military forces so much trouble. They killed most of his men before capturing the rest with non-lethal weaponry to ensure there were no more insurgencies to be had. As a show of good will to their national past time they enrolled the remaining few who were not tortured to death for information to spend the remainder of their short lives entertaining Merkadia. |
46,414 | 1,259 | 7 | 673 | 764 | They were brought out of there muttering paranoia by the cryptic words of the skeletal oddity.
coward/tooth taker/target
They had little time to wrap their thoughts in circles around what the coward meant before the cages opened and the carnage began.
In the time it took them to run around at the outskirts of the melee to get their bearings and scope out the situation, two of Advents viper guards had been destroyed by the other combatants, most notably the human who retrieved a fang from the first killed to take out the second.
unfortunate losses/cease wasting time/fulfill mission
They looked around and located the coward some way of in the distance, they would need to scramble through the melee to reach them, fortunately they had no help while he had advent monstrosities to make the initial push for them. Their task was simple, make sure the flow’s martyr neither won nor died, their toxic body was relatively perfect for this, they could incapacitate them and then simply keep fighting around the area to make sure they weren't finished off in the meantime.
They took of from the edge through the advent hordes, dodging the fights going on between them and the armored Scalpaleon elite, taking a few moments to claw or stab with their legs at some exposed flesh, applying the neurotoxin and hopefully helping the others come out on top. Dodging past a fight between a great lion-esque man and a blind two headed horror they were finally confronted with a gladiator that had recently finished of its opponent and was looking for fresh meat. A human whose forearms and lower legs had been replaced with metal talons, their body covered in light armor, a belt with odd vials around their waist and wearing a plague doctor's mask leaped from the clawed and partially dissolved corpse of a gladiator.
defeat quickly/bypassed/hurry
There is a brief moment of stillness as the two of them squared off before the two clawed monsters engage in a battle, circling one another and occasionally darting in to try to slash at the softer areas of their opponent while the other quickly dodged out of the way. Then, having recognized that the battle would not be ended quickly the two engaged in a brutal hacking and stabbing, blows being parried, dodged or absorbed by their armor as struggled to end the others life for the delight of the crowd.
Finally the doctor tried to use one of their vials on Skitter, the jar cracking against one of their spines and showering their carapace with acid when she attempted to duck. However the lobbing action left the doctor exposed and as the acid ate at Skitter’s neck they get hold of the wrists of the doctor and came in to bite them in the throat,l ousting them into the air by their neck as she pumped them full of toxins.
The wound would not be completely fatal, the toxin paralyzing but also reduced the severity of wounds. Their master was rather pleased with the toxins ability to allow graphic finishers to the opponent and then to either charge ludicrous amounts for their revival or purchase them for a reasonable price.
a good acquisition/a waste of time/the mission 274
Skitter steps over the dying and paralyzed foe, trying to ignore the acid still burning at their neck, and headed off deeper into the carnage towards the coward. | Character Name: subject 274/Buru-Enmeli/Emily/Skitter
Sex: Doesn’t really matter anymore. Nominally female.
Advent
Ruffly 6 feet tall
A house who's main stray is the research and production of more… unusual Biological crations. Unrestricted modification of, and perhaps a disdain for, the human form, advent strives to create the perfect life form for for every purpose, be they pet, livestock, slave and even to improve themselves. While their creations are with no doubt effective (their exotic pets are particular popular, as are their monstrosities for the arena) there is less certainty whether they are more cost effective than simply using unmodified workers and machines. Most are not as enthusiastic as the advent house members to enter an age of true post-humanism, their intensive self modification considered somewhat distasteful. As a result the most public figures don’t show as much modification as the more secluded members, who have cast of humanity entirely, or dress in clothing that conceal their more bizarre changes while escorted by the more stylish, if still odd, slave soldiers.
Apart from research and bio-engineering the house’s other incomes are from recycling and waste management of the city. They also are sometimes contracted to take care of the “trash” by wealthy individuals, clearing out pockets of dissenters, homeless and anyone else who they might want to disappear. The same semi intelligent hive drones are used for both purposes, swarming settlements or collecting and sorting out useful materials from the huge amount of waste produced by the city. Large behemoths and flying beetles are used as shock troops or garbage collection.
Their master is one of the more influential and public semi independent scientists who work for the house. So long as their work produces some monetary income demonstrating their work has some value and they aren’t wasting house sponsorship on personal projects or self modification, they are given freedom to do pretty much as they please and a small personal army of the house's drones.
Additional details:
I should add some clarification as to what those drones are in the char section, they are basically reanimated corpses rather than living slaves, like my char is, so in a way they are recycling. In their minds they are using the current system to advance humanity, to eventually replace the entire work force with drones and lift humanity beyond what evolution gave them. The dead shall provide for the living and Merkadia shall become a post-human utopia. or that's what they believe they are doing anyway, but they lack focus. Mainly they just tinker in labs making whatever each scientist thinks is a good idea at the time, be they glow in the dark ferrets, snake people, gladiators or giving themselves extra arms. Which is what happens when you give a bunch of mad scientists a research budget and tell them to go make stuff that might benefit Merkadia and the house.
Biological Enhancements:
Chitinous skin: covered in razor sharp armored plaits, while not as effective as grafting metal to the body they are lighter and allow more freedom of movement.
Mandible and spines: A mouth full of knives, claws like daggers, blades on their 4 legs and basically spikes everywhere on their armor.
Enhanced movement abilities: their 4 legs let them both run at about the same speed as a small horse, let them jump considerable heights, quickly dig tunnels in soft terrain and climb by stabbing their shape legs into walls.
Poison: Their sharp points can secrete a neurotoxin that will slowly cripple the target, this can be used either directly or smeared on weapons. As a result of being covered in the stuff they are designed to be immune to it and their blood can act as an anti-venom for it if dunk by others. Production can be turned on and off.
They aren't noticeably stronger than an un-augmented human so they rely on speed and the slow crippling by poison to fight.
Personality:
They used to be a rather peaceful individual, who enjoyed singing, reading and good music. Most of these things have been lost along, their new body is a coiled spring of tension, paranoia and aggression meaning they find it difficult to relax, their voice a disgusting grating mess from their inhuman mouth means they can no-longer sing. On the other hand their new body feels amazing when they are allowed to unleash it, the speed and power they have in those brief moments of freedom before the bloody carnage begins are glorious. They despise their master for taking their voice and for caging them but they can understand their willingness to abandon human forms, for they have never felt more alive, if only they could have the freedom to use their body for their own desire rather than to fight and kill other unfortunate souls.
History:
They are but one of the many slaves taken from a remote town that was recently re-pacified by advent forces, a farmhand who had nothing to do with the group that brought the ire of some house member but when the swarm come they will indiscriminately abduct individuals and their masters mark them down as collaborators in paperwork. Either no-one has noticed or cares about this practice so they were taken away, held for an in determinant amount of time before undergoing extensive modification and genetic engineering to become the monstrosity they are now.
The Advent Scientist has set them up as a gladiator after they performed well against the house's basic drones, for the purpose of further testing and to gain some income to prove they are doing useful work for the house. Having had their name and original appearance scrubbed from their memory and having only been a number, their gladiator name was given as buru-enmeli but they go by the more human Emily when they can. Known as Skitter by crowds for their appearance, style of combat and because buru-enmeli is pretentious as fuck. |
46,415 | 1,260 | 0 | 1,686 | 474 | Athel
The streets of the city of Ascord is bustling with merchanters, traders & lastly scammers as per usual. Athel was at the most infamous area of the city- The Graveyard, placing offerings beside a tombstone carved with the names of her fallen classmates. This floor, the 20F, is the place where the last remnants of her old guild died. Of course, being a game, there aren't actual bodies or skeletons, but instead its buried with the previous equipment they worn, being more of a gesture of respect than anything. That's a habit of her, before heading out for any parties against the PKer's guild <<Laughing Coffin>> . "Cya ~" She uttered, leaving the city.
She arrived at the southern fields that her party have agreed on, and as always, she was the earliest. A raid for a grindspot of the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild, hopefully this one wouldn't be a failure like before. But, being in this field for umpteen times, she had a rough idea of how that crazy guild work already. Her first guild was a guild with her real life schoolmates, and that was the only people that she personally knew, her last line of attachment, that died in front of her. Athel had nothing to lose now, and she swore to at least have them rest in peace.
Leaning against the pillar of a watchtower, she checked for the last time that her potions are well-stocked & ready-to-use, and she was equipping her best weapon in her inventory: the Silent Axe. Beyond that Watchtower, Teleport Crystals won't work properly, and further South is the Southern Coast, a <<Laughing Coffin>> territory. Gazing at the morning sky, Athel waited for her team to gather. She wondered for a moment how many would survive this, but that wasn't much of her concern now, she's just a wandering mercenary, and useless concern to others is meaningless to her. | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,416 | 1,260 | 1 | 1,121 | 2,070 | Akemi "The Guardian Angel"
The girl strolled casually towards the watchtower, wondering to herself if any of the others for the planned group had already arrived at the arranged meeting point. As she approached the Watchtower, Akemi immediately noticed the other girl standing there, seemingly waiting. She moved a hand and put it on her weapon's handle, just to be sure. "You're Athel, I trust?" Akemi said in a pleasant tone, yet still, she stood ready to fight should this be a <<Laughing Coffin>> member. While Akemi usually ran alongside her Guild, today she gave them a much-deserved break, but couldn't rest herself. This time around, the girl would be running alongside a group she matched up with recently. Better to ensure that this group could come out alive than it would be to sit around and do nothing special all day. Besides, this meant she'd be living up to the moniker of 'Guardian Angel' that she had received.
As she drew close enough to clearly see the other person, she was able to see that this was in fact, Athel. One of the group members that would be going about the raid with them, and one she did not yet recognize. Relieved that she wouldn't need to worry about fighting off <<Laughing Coffin>> just yet, she placed the weapon handle back in its holster on her belt. Studying the other for a few long moments, she would wait to ensure they had time to respond to her previous question before she speak once more. "So, Athel, you know of the dangers in our raiding ground today, I assume? Do you have any sort of experience fighting against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild?" she asked, wanting to know how much she would need to be carrying the group so far today.
Shortly after her question was asked, Akemi heard the sounds of another approaching from behind. She spun on a heel to look towards the newcomer, once again on edge because of who exactly had claim on these areas in particular. Tilting her head at the newcomer approaching, she raised an eyebrow slightly before speaking. "Little Brother? You're joining the group today, since when?" she asked, a bit confused as she never exactly saw his name on the roster for joining up with the group. Even when she checked it one last time before heading out.
Isamu "The Solo Player"
The boy sighed as he finished off the monster before him, and wondered why he was so unlucky on this particular day. He was heading out to do some solo grinding, and yet seemed to be coming across enemies every step of the way. At least, that was probably better off than coming across any <<Laughing Coffin>> members in this hell of a game. As the EXP screen popped up before his eyes, Isamu scanned to see if anything in particular stuck out to him, but couldn't find much of anything among the loot from the slayed enemy. With a small shrug, he swiped the screen away and began making his way towards the edge of a known <<Laughing Coffin>> grinding area. No bigger insult to the Guild than getting stronger off of their lands.
As he approached the edges, the boy noticed two figures standing near a Watchtower. Normally, he would just ignore the other players or give a casual greeting, but one of them looked oddly familiar. As such, Isamu decided to approach the two ladies standing near the Watchtower. As he got closer, it became the one he recgonized was none other than Aincrad's very own Guardian Angel. That is, it was his older sister Sayu-, no, Akemi in this world. Curiosity ate at him, and he decided to quench that desire to figure out why Akemi was out here without her clan. Normally she was always surrounded by the members of her Guardians of Hope, preparing for a raid or peace mission to help others trapped in this help with all of them.
As he grew closer, Akemi turned and addressed him directly. Evidently he wasn't being as quiet as he should be, something the boy made a note of so he could work on leveling up his stealth stats later. "Little Brother? You're joining the group today, since when?" came her words, to which the boy shook his head with a small laugh. "No, I was heading out to do some level grinding. More curious as to why you're out here with..." He said, gesturing towards the other girl standing at the Watchtower. His gaze lingered for a bit on her, she seemed to be about his age and was decently cute. For a moment he debated saying something, but then shrugged it off and went back to addressing Akemi. "Usually expect to see you surrounded by your Guild. Guess you gave them a day off? You big softie." He teased, and noticed the stern look his older sister was giving him. Immdiately, a window popped up before him notifying him that Akemi wished him to join her party. Attached was a small user-inserted message. "<<Laughing Coffin>> Operates out there. You will not be going alone." it read. To which the boy gave a nervous laugh as he hit the check mark. There was no use ignoring sister's wishes when she got like this, else it wouldn't end very well for him. With that done, he looked towards the other girl and gave a small wave accompanied by a half-smile. "Uhhh, guess I will be joining you today. Seems my sister here doesn't want me going alone. The name's Isamu, nice to meet you." He said in a pleasant tone. | The Namikaze Sibilings
Akemi
"You need not carry your burdens alone anymore, let me bear your burdens for you."
Alias:
Guardian Angel
Actual Name:
Sayuri Namikaze
Age:
18
Gender:
Female
Personality:
Akemi is nothing but a kind-hearted soul. She has always been the kind of girl who would stop to give a homeless man some money for food. She can't help but find an urge to help others in need and that personality very much so carried over into Aincrad when she and her brother became trapped within the game. She is kind towards all, and quite protective over those who need it in her eyes. She is also rather intelligent, and has been known for being quite strategic when needed. Akemi is also quite extroverted and friendly towards most people. However, those who would hurt others; such as <<Laughing Coffin>>, will find no mercy from her.
History:
Before being dragged into the hell which was Sword Art Online, Akemi was one of the top students at her school. Straight A's, cheerleading squad leader, and conteder for class president; the girl was at the top of her game. However, that all changed whenever the release of Sword Art Online came amount. The girl had gotten a copy of the game, and a NerveGear so that she could enjoy the game with her little brother. Afterall, there wasn't much that he could do these days thanks to being paralyzed. Whenever the both of them found out there would be no return, Akemi had a total breakdown. Her very life had shattered before her eyes, and everything had been lined up so perfectly. She was among those who sat around in the town of beginnings, hiding in a room and waiting for the end for the first few months of the game.
That was until her brother had finally found her. After he had lost her in the opening stages of the chaos, the boy had sought to grow stronger while still looking for his big sister. After a lengthy talk and a few days spent motivating, Akemi found herself back on her feet. Afterall, she couldn't let him go at this on his own, he might get hurt. So she set out on her quest to end the game.
It did not take long for her to prove her strength as a player, and gain the moniker of 'Guardian', after she continually showed a tendency to step in to help others. Rumors of a guardian angel in Aincrad spread beacuase of her, the girl who would fight to the bitter end just to help others. Using some of her newly found fame, Akemi would start the Guardians of Hope Guild, and start forging a new way forward. Clearing levels, and carrying out successful minor operations against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. So when they heard about the current battle for the 20th floor, it was only a matter of time before they came and joined the ranks of those taking the fight to <<Laughing Coffin>>.
Equipment:
Weapon of Light- A weapon which takes form purely of the handle she holds. The weapon itself forms into either a Lance, or a Great Sword, and is made of red light. She is proficient with both weapons.
Quarter Plate Armor- Armor that is made of a quarter plate armor and normal leather armor. Provides bonus defense, more common among those playing the tank role.
Shield- A small shield on her arm which can be used to block incoming attacks/parry them if timed correctly. Granted attacks from a large weapon would break through quite easily.
Skills:
Akemi is a strength focused player, she takes the role of the battlefield tank, able to take damage as well as deal it out rather effectively.
Surge- Akemi can temporarily boost her strength stat, receiving a 'Surge of Strength' to deal out higher damage or preform taskes requiring higher strength. This ability can only be done once per day.
Guild:
Guardians of Hope
Rank:
Commander
The Guardians of Hope are a small to medium sized clan, they're a bit militaristic in structure. While they may seem similar to the Army, the Guardians of Hope are an elite guild. Their ranks consist only of clearers who have applied and been personally chosen by the commander. Since they began, the Guardians of Hope have been a rather close knit group, and known for their friendliness like that of a family. The guild's goal is to protect those who cannot defend themselves, be it from helping out with food or other methods. The guild will do it without asking for any compensation. They're also commonly seen on the frontlines of the game, helping clear whatever obstacles lie in their path. Their Guildhouse is located in the main city of the 18th floor, and always has some rooms open for those in need. Money to fund their exploits is gathered through quests, contracts, or through the tavern that makes up the bottom floor of the Guild House.
Isamu
"You'll never know what hit you."
Actual Name:
Ichirou Namikaze
Age:
16
Gender:
Male
Personality:
Isamu is a bit a loner, choosing to be on his own and a bit introverted compared to others. He isn't the kind, unlike his sister, to go out of his way to help somebody in the streets. However; he would certainly not hesitate to defend another in battle should he think they need it. He will talk and be friendly with those he is close to, but is not terribly willing to go out try to make new friends.
History:
Isamu was a rather popular kid in school, an upcoming sports star mostly, but also an avid gamer. However; at the age of 15, he was hit by a car on his way from the school. The boy was paralyzed from the waist down, and fell rather quickly from grace. He shrunk away from his friends, and when Sword Art Online was announced, he asked for it immdiately. Much to his surprise, his sister bought two NerveGear and two copies of the game. When they found themselves stranded in the game, he quickly lost track of his sister.
In the following months, he grew stronger, wanting to be the strongest among those trapped in this world. Eventually he did find his sister, and gained a new reason to become stronger. He had to beat the game, after seeing the state she was in, he needed to beat the game to get her back to her previous self. Since that day, he has been workig alongside his sister but never joining her guild. He became one of the few solo players who were able to count themselves among the clearers. His drive to protect others in combat led him to join the fight for the 20th Floor against <<Laughing Coffin>>.
Equipment:
Simple Longsword: A Longsword which seems plain in all aspects, except that the damage it does will always increase to keep in line with the player's level, doing average damage for that level.
Quick Light Armor: Light armor, providing minimal addtional protection, one tier above common clothes, but grants the wearer the ability to use the Dash ability once their speed stat is high enough.
Skills:
Isamu is an AGL focused player, though he is often seen on the front lines alongside his sister. Isamu may not be able to take a hit or deal as much damage as others, but he is very fast and hard to hit. The result being that he makes an excellent distraction to open opponents up for surprise attacks.
Dash- Similar to how his sister can surge her strength, Isamu can surge his speed. The result being around 20 seconds of blazing fast movement which is quite hard to counter. During this time, his damage is slightly lower, but he can also preform more attacks in the time frame.
Guild: N/A |
46,417 | 1,260 | 2 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
The <<Army>> had established a base of operations in Ascord, aiming to bring a measure of order and security to the frontier. "Yeah right," Varen scoffed as he passed by their main hall. It was an impossible task, undertaken when actually attempting to clear the floors is no longer an option. And to think I actually considered joining those losers, he thought to himself. He remembered that Harrod, a friend of his, had said he wanted to join them. That was a few days ago, and he hasn't heard from him since. The spearman chuckled. At the very least, it'll mean Harrod won't be seeing combat any time soon.
On a secluded street near the market, he opened a window to his inventory, hand tracing through his equipment, resolving that it should be enough to last him a few hours of grinding at least. As he walked towards the southern exit, Veran took time to admire the city's aesthetics, concluding that this wouldn't be a terrible place to live... if it wasn't for it being a dingy war zone and all. He diverged from the dirt pathways leading out from the city. Staying on the road most traveled is just asking for unwanted attention.
Of the four monsters that made up the group he had faced in this lone, slightly above average grindspot, it was just the last one that carried the pure red cursor above it. This was definitely an improvement compared to the very first time he arrived in this area; it was a struggle just to kill what he could before the red monsters started to close in on him. Still, this wasn't a time to allow for complacency. The monster's enlarged claw plummeted down to the dirt, pushing up brown dust as Veran narrowly rolled out of the way. He rose quickly enough to position himself and stab his spear where the claws met the hands, the creature shrieking as its HP bar shrank a fair amount and settling at 30% of its maximum. "One more good one ought to do it," Veran said under his breath. Equipping a throwing knife, he waited for an attack on the monster's part to leave it open. Back stepping away, Veran threw the knife which lodged itself in its exposed underbelly. The monster crouched forward in a fit of pain, to which the red haired player lunged at it, ramming the spear's head into the its face, causing the whole of the body to freeze, breaking apart into crystalline shards the second after.
The post battle screen was of little interest to him, although he was nearing his next level, a reminder that he would need to focus on better locations already. His spear at his back, there was no time like the present for getting his feet wet. The depressing soil under his feet gave way to the unique, gloomy grass of the southern fields. This was a popular area to be sure, but the lack of any large, recognizable, mobilizing guild force in Ascord gave him the impression that spots like this should be less crowded. Looking out to the Watchtower, he noticed a small party of three forming. It would be odd for <<Laughing Coffin>> members to loiter outside their main area of influence, but a trap is always possible, even by non affiliated player killers. All the same, Veran was feeling pretty silly for not upgrading his detection skill to longer ranges, not that that would be foolproof either, given the hostile guild may also have green players. Guess I just can't win... he mused, approaching cautiously a few feet. If they looked in his direction, he would neutrally hold his hands up, signifying that he wasn't hostile. He did have a Teleport Crystal, affording him an insurance for this side of the Watchtower. | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,418 | 1,260 | 3 | 2,458 | 534 | Enyo
The short sword landed just an inch short of his head. It was expected when your opponent is wildly slashing side to side. While effective to the average player, Enyo was a pedigree above that. With a quick rise of his right arm, his polearm swung up, leaving a red crystalline trail in it's wake. The PKer fell on his ass, starring his executor with a face of shock and fear. He closed his eyes, waiting for his imminent doom. After a few seconds he opened his eyes again. The apparition was gone.
Enyo took a seat on the ground with a sigh. He pulled the green crystal out of the air and crushed it in his hand. The poison had almost did the work of his would be assassin, but luckily he had an extra antidote crystal. It seems like stats effects had been a trend for the <<Laughing Coffin>>. He would need to buy some soon enough. It was getting expensive though and with the PKers taking all the good grind spots it was hard to get any money. Even when he would defeat a few of them, the position would be reinforced by the next day.
He popped another crystal to heal himself and set off back to a new field. Hopefully he wouldn't run into them again, if the clearers didn't move past the floor soon, they would eventually send search parties for him, if they hadn't already... Enyo collected himself and set off again. He needed to grind just a little for today. He just needed enough to fund himself. He wasn't a Clearer and wouldn't dare to be the sheep that most players acted like. He found it disgusting to just hide in the local city and live life like if they weren't trapped. This new world was a dog eat dog world, even the Army proved that conscripting the weak just lead people to their death, or maybe their freedom. He didn't know what happened, but wasn't risking the chance of his death.
He was used to heading out on his own, but he found something quite interesting, a small party forming at a watchtower. If it was a group heading out for some grinding, then it was exactly what he was hoping to find. They look to be a healthy levels, and well armed. Although it might not mean anything, since the average PKers had no issue taking out a small group of inexperienced grinders. Although him being with them might change the odds.
Enyo stood about 20 feet from the group. He wore a dark blue hooded poncho and made sure he wasn't wielding a weapon. He approached them with hand's raised. He didn't want to scare them with his normal set, it has caused others to run before. He took down his hood to show his short combed back hair and smiled their way. Hopefully his green cursor would help his appeal.
Hey, are you guys going out to grind? I was looking for a group but everyone today seems to be cowering in the safety bubble. | Enyo
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Personality:
Before the game became a reality, Enyo was a competitive gamer who always loved nothing more than playing with his friends. Now while trapped in this hell, he became a lot more serious. He found this new world as a fight for the fittest. He is a shell of his former self, instead of a joyful, helpful man. He has become callous, and uncaring. Or at least he acts that way.
History:
Enyo was one of the few who didn't really believe that you wold actually die in real life if you were to die in the game and still skeptical now. So he continued with his Guild "Skeletal Claws" leveling up and enjoying the occasional Duel in anyone who was worth a fight or stood in their way. None of them were truly sure if they were to kill someone they actually would die, so naturally none of them risked it. Only a few times did a Claw fight a person and "kill" them. Enyo was one of those men. The Claws ran a security business for traders and grinders, it wasn't too rare a few higher level players would bully out others from their "Territory". Th Skeletal Claws made sure they would think twice.
On floor 18 Enyo and most of his guild went on a quest to find a rare items that existed deep in a cave. While another guild lost five before them in trying to acquire the items, the Skeletal Claws didn't think anything of it. Claiming that guild was weak and not nearly as skilled as themselves. This was the Guild's down fall as 13 player or 75% of them died in the dungeon. Leaving the items to just Enyo, the lone survivor. After finding out what had happened, the Guild leaders took an offer they cold not refuse if they were to survive. Integrate into the Laughing Coffin. Enyo was outraged by the decision, deeming them too blood thirsty and game breaking. He was the only one to leave the guild, while the rest took up arms with the Laughing Coffins.
"Enyo, if you leave...You are just another player, an enemy. You do realize that right?"
"You know, I still haven't added a kill to the bane..."
"Maybe you never will."
Shortly after, Enyo was hunted all the way to the 20th floor. He held vital information of spots, abilities, and people. They didn't want him to share anything with others that might just try to stop the Coffins. Funny enough he actually didn't have anything that would remotely be of use to anyone. They continued to send former members of the Skeletal Claws his way, thinking a familiar face would lure him into a trap. It never worked.
Equipment:
Throwing Picks(Delay Effect coated poison)
Bearer's Bane - A Bardiche that cannot be replaced with another weapon unless thrown away. Adds a bleeding effect if the target is over half HP.
Specter Fighter Armor - Found with his Bardiche. It gives a good amount of protection without slowing down the user. TO Enyo's liking it gives a ghostly like figure as black smog escapes the armor occasionally. His head and shoulders are protected by plates, not only providing protection, but allowing his face to be hidden from light.
Skills: Enyo is an AGL based player. Usually just dodging attacks until finding an opening before striking, then jumping back and continuing the process until his target is defeated.
Guillotine- A special skill that comes with the weapon Bearer's Bane. The user leaps high in the air and comes down on the target delivering large damage.
Guild: None. Previously in the Guild: Skeletal Claws |
46,419 | 1,260 | 4 | 1,686 | 474 | Athel
"Yeah, I'm Athel," Athel replied as she notices a girl called Akemi that looks wayy shorter than she had imagined. "I'd heard a bit about your guild from the lower floors, so your '<<Guardians>>' guild is now establishing a foothold here, I presume." For a leader of such a guild, she's smaller than I thought...
"Not as much as those from Taernsby, I've never seen their leader before," Athel stated with a slight smirk, "Clashed with them a couple of times still, so as long as we can take down the head of a chief, that grindspot will be ours~" She said in a straightforward tone where it sounds really easy. For some reason, she felt some sort of ease as compared to others at her conversation with Akemi, perhaps due to her apparently 'young' & childlike face.
Little brother...? It felt rather awkward for Athel to see a party of blood-related siblings here, let alone someone calling a taller guy a 'younger brother'. So, it comes to her that she is not a young kid & she's just a midget who is older than she looks. It seems like this time it will be a more interesting party than usual. "Alone huh? Sounds interesting, it will be fun to play hide & seek with those <<Laughing Coffin>> guys, anyways, nice to meet you Isamu, welcome to the 20th Floor~" She was amused by the siblings, its reminds her a bit of her life in her first guild, and before the game.
"Another one huh, " Accepting Akemi's party request, the corner of Athel's eyes caught sight of a red haired man. Nonchalantly waving her hand in response, she offered Varen the party request with a typical message of "L>LCoffin raid @@", assuming him to be another person joining in.
And the last person, Enyo gave Athel a different vibe. But who cares, the more the merrier, as long as they're green~ She shook off any second thoughts about Enyo, and gave the same party invitation that she sent to Varen, "Yes, we're planning to grind at the Hogs' Beach around the coast, and take the grindspot as our own if we can ~ Athel"
----
"See any PKers, just go with the meta, STR at front, AGL at side, as you all know~~" The Hog's Beach was a coastal beach, full of hogs frolicking around the sand, which give good EXP and money. Slashing on one of the Hogs, Athel began grinding on them in the meantime. This game would be fun if it weren't for the deaths and stuffs... She thought as she beheaded a ribbon hog, which is a bit more durable but gives a bit more XP.
"Looks like we have a warm welcome~" Athel smiled at a team of 5 hooded players with Orange cursors approaching them from afar. She positioned herself right beside the sea boundary, ensuring her to be safe from one flank. "Brace yourselves~"
The party of PKer, with the typical group of 3 STR & 2 AGLs, clashed with the party of clearers by the beach. | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,420 | 1,260 | 5 | 1,121 | 2,070 | Akemi "The Guardian Angel"
Turning towards both the new arrivals, Akemi looked over each with a critical eye to ensure they remained seemingly friendly. The red haired one didn't give her a hostile vibe in slightest, which allowed Akemi to relax slightly. Though the other one she had seen made it quite obvious to her that there was something off. She couldn't really see any hostile intent in the man with a blue robe, but the way he carried himself made it seem quite like he thought himself above others. Great. she thought to herself. While she was normally all for helping others, she knew that those who thought themselves superior or carried themselves with such an attitude could be quite the hindrance to deal with. Whatever, she'd cross that bridge when it came to it. Although the way Athel seemed to invite the strangers to the party without much of a hesitation made the girl raise an eyebrow. What was done was done, so whenever Athel began leading the way down the Hog's Beach, Akemi followed after her with the hilt in hand. "In case any of you haven't faced <<Laughing Coffin>> before," Akemi suddenly spoke up, looking at the others. "They are all very skilled in cunning, even the most basic grunt can and has likely killed. They favor running STR builds, but watch out for their AGL units. The STR players usually charge straight in and are heavily armored as well as armed. Their job is to cause chaos and distract you, then the AGLs come from the sides, hitting with light attacks and the occsional heavy charge. Do not get boxed in or they will destroy you. Remember, their tactics constantly evovle. So be prepared, the intel I have may already be out of date." she explained as they arrived at their destination.
The girl gave a reassuring nod to everybody as Athel gave her advice should they run into any PK'ers. Taking the time before anything arrived, she decided to get some grinding out of the way. With a shake of her wrist, the hilt in her hand suddenly lept to life. From it, an elegant longsword made entirely from red light appeared. The weapon shimmered as glyphs of some sword seemed to hang in the air along the 'blade'. Looking away from her weapon, Akemi noticed a hog charging towards her. Clearly it was the game's attack animation for a headbutt from the beast. A small grin could be seen on the girl's lips as she brought her sword back and light seemed to gather further around her arm. Allowing the systems in game to do their work, Akemi immdiately launched into an elegant dance of death. The sword came in low, running with its tip just barely touching the ground as she turned to the side for further reach. The weapon came upwards in a seamless arc, leaving a trail of red light behind it as it made contact. The hog charging bore a new red slash across its face and its health fell quickly as it flew up into the air. Continuing her spin, Akemi came around quickly went onto the toes of one foot to gain extra height. Her sword came from behind in a massive overhead arc, accelerating into a blur as it slammed into the hog and brought both careening into the ground. Upon impact the hog let out a death wail and disappated into holographic pieces. Turning around from her foe, Akemi felt rather pleased with herself for unleashing the combo she had just learned. Yet that feeling was not to last...
Isamu "The Solo Player"
More people? How large was Akemi's party supposed to be today? Isamu knew that his sister had gained quite the reputation, even among the clearers, but he had honestly doubted many would want to accompany her to some place as dangerous as land owned by <<Laughing Coffin>>. Casting a look towards his sister, and seeing her reaction to the two showing up, it became evident that these two weren't planned additions to the party. Although, Isamu knew that happened quite a bit to Akemi as well. People were always asking to join up with her, a side effect of her skills, reputation, and being found attractive by many, Isamu assumed. As Athel accepted the others into the party, Isamu wondered what the girl had in mind for all them. He watched her carefully, and found himself staring a bit longer than he had planned whenever Akemi popped him upside the head to get his attention. It seemed they were all moving out to hit the grinding area, a good option if one were to ask Isamu. As they were walking, Isamu stayed towards the rear of the group so he didn't have to be bothered by anybody and ensured he had all his best gear on. Afterall, this was very much so still dangerous territory, and Isamu wasn't about to be the guy who caused a party wipe. Once they arrived, Isamu looked around to see if he could find a ribbon hog, wanting the extra XP and money that the little shits usually would provide.
He found one rather quickly and drew his weapon. An elegant blade, deep blue with silver outlines decorated both the blade and hilt of the weapon. Ornate designs curved along the blade and a deep blue jewel sat center on the hilt. Overall, the weapon was worth quite a bit of money, but Isamu jealously kept it to himself ever since he had earned it during a once in a lifetime quest early in the game. Looking at his target, Isamu decided to stick to his usual tactics against Hogs in this game. Once the beast began to charge, the boy lunged to side, but thrust back towards where he was with the weapon. As usual, the beast couldn't turn quick enough and firmly ate the stab to its side. As the beast was recovering, Isamu continued forward with his momentum before planting his foot in the ground. Using that to turn around quickly, he dashed back towards the recovering hog and slammed a shoulder into the animal. The attack did little damage, as it wasn't a formally recognized attack in the system, but still cause the animal to reel back. As it stumbled, the boy engaged in a flurry of blows that were so quick he appeared as a blur until the animal exploded into shards and he was rewarded with an XP screen. Nodding towards the deceased animal, Isamu walked over towards the other girl in the party, Athel. "How long you think we got before the assholes show up?" he asked her, trying to make some conversation as he got ready to attack another enemy. Great conversation starter, Isamu. You woo all the women like that? he grumbled to himself. Although before she could reply, Isamu received his answer.
<<Laughing Coffin>>
So there they were, the next prey to fall into the coffin. A group of five little whelps, just begging to be put out of their existence seemed to be gathered in their coast. Foolishly attacking the hogs, when the real threat lurked nearby. Watching the group and letting them have their fun for a few minutes, the man began preparations. "Come, come my disciples!" he called to the group of five that sat waiting nearby. All of his band were the lowest level grunts, one of them a fresh initiate into the Guild. The Sergeant smiled manically to himself as he thought about the joy, pleasure that the initiate was about to experience. "It seems we have an infestation in our coast! Don't you think it would be quite rude to leave our... guests out there without a proper welcoming party into our abode?!" the man said, followed by a fit of maniacal laughter as the others seemed to agree approach him. "Then come, it is time to give them a surprise. They'll be dying with laughter." he said, chuckling as he grabbed the massive greatsword laying at his feet. In seconds it was slung on his back, the small party was assembled around him. The orange icons and formation they moved in hid his red icon, and evidence of there being a sixth person in the party at they grew closer.
Orders were given as they moved in, and soon everyone of the team knew what they were to do. The initiate, a heavily armed STR player, was to engage the one trying to be edgy (Enyo). The girl to his right, she was to take on the red haried man and seemed to be readying her twin daggers to engage the man (Varen). The boy to his left, another AGL build, was to ensure that everybody stayed within the killing radius. The other two STR builds were to engage the remaining trio, and thanks to their heavy armor along with their deadly weaponry; they were likely more than capable of dealing with these runts (Athel, Akemi, and Isamu). The man in the center would move in once the trap was complete, and then these pesky little clearers will be wiped out quickly. A twisted smile grew on his lips as they grew ever so closer, nobody breaking formation or giving any hint of their attack plans yet. Not until he decided that it was time, and by then... it would be too late for those little clearers. Oh, today would be a wonderful party, and he could already taste the reward that the boss would give him!
The Raid Group
Seeing the group approaching, Akemi immediately knew what it meant. The <<Laughing Coffin>> had finally found them. Akemi moved to the front of the group, where she would be of the most use, then cast a look to either side of herself. Searching for the other STR builds to move up front with her. "Everybody brace yourselves, <<Laughing Coffin>> inbound! Isamu, get ready to harass and ensure we can't be encircled! If any of you are also an AGL build, then get on the side. Your only goal needs to be keeping them off of us! Other STR builds, on me!" she commanded, the confidence in her voice showing that she had faced threats like this before and lived to tell the tail. "If all else fails, we can hold them off and slowly retreat back to where Teleport Crystals work." she added, then flicked her wrist as the sword in her hand suddenly changed into massive lance of light. Akemi glared down the incoming enemies, ready to fight them off when they came for her.
Isamu glared at the <<Laughing Coffin>>, then cast a look towards his sister as she barked out orders and prepared for a fight. So it seemed like they would be fighting off the enemy again. Looking towards Athel, he shrugged briefly despite their lack of a conversation. "Good luck." he said simply, to her and then to his sister. The boy then moved towards the outside and rear of the group. He took the time to check his loadout, and when confident began watching for any sign of movement from the enemy. If he had to guess, they were likely going to stay in formation for a while, then suddenly break into a full charge. Any AGL units would likely be on top of them in seconds. This thought in mind, the brought some throwing tacks out of his inventory and moved more to the side. Ready to stumble anybody trying to make a charge as they moved in. | The Namikaze Sibilings
Akemi
"You need not carry your burdens alone anymore, let me bear your burdens for you."
Alias:
Guardian Angel
Actual Name:
Sayuri Namikaze
Age:
18
Gender:
Female
Personality:
Akemi is nothing but a kind-hearted soul. She has always been the kind of girl who would stop to give a homeless man some money for food. She can't help but find an urge to help others in need and that personality very much so carried over into Aincrad when she and her brother became trapped within the game. She is kind towards all, and quite protective over those who need it in her eyes. She is also rather intelligent, and has been known for being quite strategic when needed. Akemi is also quite extroverted and friendly towards most people. However, those who would hurt others; such as <<Laughing Coffin>>, will find no mercy from her.
History:
Before being dragged into the hell which was Sword Art Online, Akemi was one of the top students at her school. Straight A's, cheerleading squad leader, and conteder for class president; the girl was at the top of her game. However, that all changed whenever the release of Sword Art Online came amount. The girl had gotten a copy of the game, and a NerveGear so that she could enjoy the game with her little brother. Afterall, there wasn't much that he could do these days thanks to being paralyzed. Whenever the both of them found out there would be no return, Akemi had a total breakdown. Her very life had shattered before her eyes, and everything had been lined up so perfectly. She was among those who sat around in the town of beginnings, hiding in a room and waiting for the end for the first few months of the game.
That was until her brother had finally found her. After he had lost her in the opening stages of the chaos, the boy had sought to grow stronger while still looking for his big sister. After a lengthy talk and a few days spent motivating, Akemi found herself back on her feet. Afterall, she couldn't let him go at this on his own, he might get hurt. So she set out on her quest to end the game.
It did not take long for her to prove her strength as a player, and gain the moniker of 'Guardian', after she continually showed a tendency to step in to help others. Rumors of a guardian angel in Aincrad spread beacuase of her, the girl who would fight to the bitter end just to help others. Using some of her newly found fame, Akemi would start the Guardians of Hope Guild, and start forging a new way forward. Clearing levels, and carrying out successful minor operations against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. So when they heard about the current battle for the 20th floor, it was only a matter of time before they came and joined the ranks of those taking the fight to <<Laughing Coffin>>.
Equipment:
Weapon of Light- A weapon which takes form purely of the handle she holds. The weapon itself forms into either a Lance, or a Great Sword, and is made of red light. She is proficient with both weapons.
Quarter Plate Armor- Armor that is made of a quarter plate armor and normal leather armor. Provides bonus defense, more common among those playing the tank role.
Shield- A small shield on her arm which can be used to block incoming attacks/parry them if timed correctly. Granted attacks from a large weapon would break through quite easily.
Skills:
Akemi is a strength focused player, she takes the role of the battlefield tank, able to take damage as well as deal it out rather effectively.
Surge- Akemi can temporarily boost her strength stat, receiving a 'Surge of Strength' to deal out higher damage or preform taskes requiring higher strength. This ability can only be done once per day.
Guild:
Guardians of Hope
Rank:
Commander
The Guardians of Hope are a small to medium sized clan, they're a bit militaristic in structure. While they may seem similar to the Army, the Guardians of Hope are an elite guild. Their ranks consist only of clearers who have applied and been personally chosen by the commander. Since they began, the Guardians of Hope have been a rather close knit group, and known for their friendliness like that of a family. The guild's goal is to protect those who cannot defend themselves, be it from helping out with food or other methods. The guild will do it without asking for any compensation. They're also commonly seen on the frontlines of the game, helping clear whatever obstacles lie in their path. Their Guildhouse is located in the main city of the 18th floor, and always has some rooms open for those in need. Money to fund their exploits is gathered through quests, contracts, or through the tavern that makes up the bottom floor of the Guild House.
Isamu
"You'll never know what hit you."
Actual Name:
Ichirou Namikaze
Age:
16
Gender:
Male
Personality:
Isamu is a bit a loner, choosing to be on his own and a bit introverted compared to others. He isn't the kind, unlike his sister, to go out of his way to help somebody in the streets. However; he would certainly not hesitate to defend another in battle should he think they need it. He will talk and be friendly with those he is close to, but is not terribly willing to go out try to make new friends.
History:
Isamu was a rather popular kid in school, an upcoming sports star mostly, but also an avid gamer. However; at the age of 15, he was hit by a car on his way from the school. The boy was paralyzed from the waist down, and fell rather quickly from grace. He shrunk away from his friends, and when Sword Art Online was announced, he asked for it immdiately. Much to his surprise, his sister bought two NerveGear and two copies of the game. When they found themselves stranded in the game, he quickly lost track of his sister.
In the following months, he grew stronger, wanting to be the strongest among those trapped in this world. Eventually he did find his sister, and gained a new reason to become stronger. He had to beat the game, after seeing the state she was in, he needed to beat the game to get her back to her previous self. Since that day, he has been workig alongside his sister but never joining her guild. He became one of the few solo players who were able to count themselves among the clearers. His drive to protect others in combat led him to join the fight for the 20th Floor against <<Laughing Coffin>>.
Equipment:
Simple Longsword: A Longsword which seems plain in all aspects, except that the damage it does will always increase to keep in line with the player's level, doing average damage for that level.
Quick Light Armor: Light armor, providing minimal addtional protection, one tier above common clothes, but grants the wearer the ability to use the Dash ability once their speed stat is high enough.
Skills:
Isamu is an AGL focused player, though he is often seen on the front lines alongside his sister. Isamu may not be able to take a hit or deal as much damage as others, but he is very fast and hard to hit. The result being that he makes an excellent distraction to open opponents up for surprise attacks.
Dash- Similar to how his sister can surge her strength, Isamu can surge his speed. The result being around 20 seconds of blazing fast movement which is quite hard to counter. During this time, his damage is slightly lower, but he can also preform more attacks in the time frame.
Guild: N/A |
46,421 | 1,260 | 6 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
Even though he didn't mind joining people he had never met before on an incursion into <<Laughing Coffin>> territory, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that they weren't loitering around the tower for him - the shady looking guy that arrived after him sure, but not him. But rather than point it out, he thought it would be a hoot to play along. Even if they should turn on him, it should make for a funny anecdote to tell people later. Whereas most would recognize Akemi as the elegant leader of the <<Guardians of Hope>>, Varen hadn't a clue, not being one to bother following in-game politics and events not directly affecting him. As long as they stayed out of his way, he was good. Yet he could tell she was at least used to being an authority figure with the way she carried herself. Nothing of seemingly lasting importance stuck out to his besides that, it wasn't exceptionally likely he'd see any of these people again in any case.
"See any PKers, just go with the meta, STR at front, AGL at side, as you all know~~"
"Yeah, yeah, of course I know all this stuff. I mean, who do you think you're talking to?" Varen said in a purposely unconvincing manner, more to pass the time than anything. "I've totally killed some of these guys before, like a lot of guys. All in self defense, of course. Am I right, buddy?" he joked as he turned to Enyo, winking profusely.
"But it's not like I'm some kind of sicko who enjoys killing. No, I have dreams that go way beyond fighting player killers and clearing floors. Me and my old lady are going to retire to the countryside and raise ourselves a farm," he would have gotten bored with his shtick if it wasn't for their arrival onto the grinding spot, hostile hogs appearing and livening things up. He readied his spear, the middle of the shaft resting under his right arm. "Oh yeah, we're gonna have cows, some tasty chickens and especially... pigs!" he continued as he sidestepped one of the creature's opening charge, his spear head slashing upward against its abdomen through a trail of red. His body moving in a counterclockwise motion, he repositioned to fiercely arc his spear upward again in a savage blow that ultimately saw the entity soaring a several feet into the air, its fragments dissipating into oblivion. Varen didn't waste any time in engaging another hog, running atop a seven foot long stone jutting out of the sand and intercepting his victim with a devastating strike, planting the weapon down through the monster's neck clear to the other side, despawn then following. "(Laughing) Anyone else getting hungry? I know I am," the spearman japed with the shaft resting squarely behind his neck, enjoying himself.
It was then that he witnessed the <<Laughing Coffin>> team incoming, to which he took a few determined steps forward, unequipped his spear and held his hands up in a similar fashion as he had before. "I surrender. Please spare me. I want to live," he declared loudly, trying to sound serious, but eventually failing, as the edges of mouth curved more and more until he gave up, erupting in a fit of less than appropriate laughter. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding, hehehe... Let's go murder some fools," he exclaimed rather flatly, despite him grinning widely as he rebrandished his weapon.
Searching for the other STR builds to move up front with her. "Everybody brace yourselves, <<Laughing Coffin>> inbound! Isamu, get ready to harass and ensure we can't be encircled! If any of you are also an AGL build, then get on the side. Your only goal needs to be keeping them off of us! Other STR builds, on me!" she commanded, the confidence in her voice showing that she had faced threats like this before and lived to tell the tail.
"Whatever you say, 'fearless leader'," Varen responded with a sense of mirth more than any hint of detectable sarcasm. He stood to her side and two steps back, spinning his tool about in a pointless flourish before gripping it with both hands, ready for a fight. | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,422 | 1,260 | 7 | 2,458 | 534 | Enyo
The journey to the territory was quite quiet for him. Even when Varen made a joke to him, Enyo ignored him and continued to look down and zone out. He was hoping this will be easy, quick, and quiet. Honestly the fact they didn't see anyone made him nervous. Maybe someone was watching...
Enyo was taking out the hogs with ease. At this point they were several level under him and took almost no effort to be brought down. Of course they barley gave him any EXP to matter. At least the players still have not advanced any further than this floor, so their drops were still relevant. As another one came for a charge, Enyo just stepped to the side and the hog ran right into his blade. He shook his head in annoyment, finding grinding as a chore than anything else. While he hated doing it, what happened next was less preferable.
Something was moving to them in the distance, and it was moving fast. In just a few more seconds of concentrating Enyo noticed it was multiple things. He has never seen a Red NPC travel from zone to zone, so it could can mean only one thing. Before he could say anything it was apparent they fell into a trap. He expected as much, but it took them so long that he thought they had got lucky. He should've known...he has no luck.
He prepared himself, hearing orders barked by one of the members in the group. It's been a long while since he's been in a group, but he was aware that no matter how good they were individually they were most likely to get in each others way than help each other due to their lack of previously working together. Enyo ignored the orders and stood his ground behind the group.
In the standstill he tried to see if any of them had a familiar face. He really couldn't tell unless one got more up close and personal. Enyo held held his weapon high up on its wooden staff, ready to quickly block any thrown weapons. He knew the game they played. | Enyo
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Personality:
Before the game became a reality, Enyo was a competitive gamer who always loved nothing more than playing with his friends. Now while trapped in this hell, he became a lot more serious. He found this new world as a fight for the fittest. He is a shell of his former self, instead of a joyful, helpful man. He has become callous, and uncaring. Or at least he acts that way.
History:
Enyo was one of the few who didn't really believe that you wold actually die in real life if you were to die in the game and still skeptical now. So he continued with his Guild "Skeletal Claws" leveling up and enjoying the occasional Duel in anyone who was worth a fight or stood in their way. None of them were truly sure if they were to kill someone they actually would die, so naturally none of them risked it. Only a few times did a Claw fight a person and "kill" them. Enyo was one of those men. The Claws ran a security business for traders and grinders, it wasn't too rare a few higher level players would bully out others from their "Territory". Th Skeletal Claws made sure they would think twice.
On floor 18 Enyo and most of his guild went on a quest to find a rare items that existed deep in a cave. While another guild lost five before them in trying to acquire the items, the Skeletal Claws didn't think anything of it. Claiming that guild was weak and not nearly as skilled as themselves. This was the Guild's down fall as 13 player or 75% of them died in the dungeon. Leaving the items to just Enyo, the lone survivor. After finding out what had happened, the Guild leaders took an offer they cold not refuse if they were to survive. Integrate into the Laughing Coffin. Enyo was outraged by the decision, deeming them too blood thirsty and game breaking. He was the only one to leave the guild, while the rest took up arms with the Laughing Coffins.
"Enyo, if you leave...You are just another player, an enemy. You do realize that right?"
"You know, I still haven't added a kill to the bane..."
"Maybe you never will."
Shortly after, Enyo was hunted all the way to the 20th floor. He held vital information of spots, abilities, and people. They didn't want him to share anything with others that might just try to stop the Coffins. Funny enough he actually didn't have anything that would remotely be of use to anyone. They continued to send former members of the Skeletal Claws his way, thinking a familiar face would lure him into a trap. It never worked.
Equipment:
Throwing Picks(Delay Effect coated poison)
Bearer's Bane - A Bardiche that cannot be replaced with another weapon unless thrown away. Adds a bleeding effect if the target is over half HP.
Specter Fighter Armor - Found with his Bardiche. It gives a good amount of protection without slowing down the user. TO Enyo's liking it gives a ghostly like figure as black smog escapes the armor occasionally. His head and shoulders are protected by plates, not only providing protection, but allowing his face to be hidden from light.
Skills: Enyo is an AGL based player. Usually just dodging attacks until finding an opening before striking, then jumping back and continuing the process until his target is defeated.
Guillotine- A special skill that comes with the weapon Bearer's Bane. The user leaps high in the air and comes down on the target delivering large damage.
Guild: None. Previously in the Guild: Skeletal Claws |
46,423 | 1,260 | 8 | 1,686 | 474 | Athel
As the Laughing Coffin party charged, Athel engaged battle with one of the STR build. In a stable footing, an undisrupted 1v1 battle between tanks would be longer, and the outcome really depends on who can last longer. And as the person who is the furthest away from the sidelines, that's her current situation. The outcome lies in the AGL side. She was rather amused when one person with an AGL build would charge at her from the front. The sea border is right beside her, and like in most games, Players can't swim. Using her Apprehend skill to that laughing coffin boy, she pulled him in, giving a few slashes at that person who is dealt with an AGL debuff. Unfortunately, the restriction of movement in her side of the battle applies to them too, so she dealt that AGL player enough damage for him to fall back to the back lines and recover, but didn't manage to kill him. Try working with the terrain for once, kid~ She let out a smirk, as she signaled Isamu to assist Enyo & Varen. An opening was made, all they had to do is to exploit it, but for some reason, she had a feeling that that wouldn't be so easy. With tactics of that level, They're definitely newcomers to this guild...
-----
The girl with the twin daggers charged at Varen, with her pair of daggers glowing red, lunging her daggers towards him as she attempts to use the Double Stab skill that would deal quite an amount of damage. She intended to fall back immediately after the attack, as the attack is just to weaken that semitank and send a signal for that initiate behind her to engage. She was rather worried that the newbie would screw up this fight, but if he really did, she will finish him off for sure.
-----
The Lieutenant was watching the battle from the distance, playing it safe and making sure that the battle is going their way. His men have just recently joined the guild, and he wasn't that surprised to see one of them screwing up. Its time for him to even out the situation, he charged towards the coast, to the scene of the battle from the side. He was a bit surprised to see Enyo still on a secure position in the reserve/back lines , most of them would have taken advantage of the situation by then. It is clear to him that the battle wouldn't be ending that easily. Oh that reminds me...
"So you're that traitor Ares have been talking about huh? That Enma, so I'd heard?" The Lieutenant surged at Enyo, taking out a Machete, using a Sarrage Blow skill that deals bursting damage in a swift sequence of a 6 consecutive slashes. He is a man in his late teens, with a scar below his left eye that is clearly not gained from this game. He has an unkempt brown hairstyle, and a sharp & piercing look, the type that has seen countless battles. Still, he isn't a person that Enyo would recognize. | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,424 | 1,260 | 9 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
"Well well, what have we here?" Varen raised an eyebrow and smirked as he stepped back into position, bracing for the encounter with the female attacker. His fighting style was better suited for handling armored opponents. However, when necessary (like now for instance), he would opt for a simple strategy: trying to maintain a clear distance and attacking whenever possible. His weapon afforded him more reach and he attempted a reaching thrust at her followed by an immediate diagonal sweep towards her upper torso. She was indeed swift and he realized, just a split second into it, that the second attack was already putting him in great risk. He needed to break off and implement the strategy, so the motion for the sweep transitioned abruptly to a dodge roll to the side, ultimately reducing the sweep's accuracy by about 30% compared to the initial thrust. Her glowing daggers made clear her intention to use a skill on him. Had he been caught by surprise or otherwise less mobile, he would have surely been caught by it. "Hehe, you're pretty cute," he bantered, grinning widely. "What's a girl like you doing with a guild like <<Laughing Coffin>>?" | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,425 | 1,260 | 10 | 2,458 | 534 | Enyo
Enyo chuckled to himself slightly. He thought the whole situation was pretty Ironic. Of course they would be attacked, and at least one of them might know him. A wide smile painted his face as the lieutenant spoke. It quickly changed when he was charged by the man. He saw his scar, what a edgy teenager... Egging him on, Enyo taunted his opponent. "Are you the leader here? Honestly im not sure."
He tossed of his poncho towards his enemy, with just quick swipe of his hand his avatar was surrounded by blue and green crystalline shards revealing his true form to the Pkers and the team. The Apparition had appeared.
Enyo stood his ground, letting the opponent get cocky before he was fed to his Axe. Hoping the toss would throw him off, but even then with his available hand he dropped a few picks in front of him, just as a fail safe. He was prepared to allow his opponent to get the hits he wanted, but would take a hard slow down effect for his arrogance. Holding his weapon down, preparing a Low Swoop. A single higher damage attack that would come up vertically and surprise the enemy from his feet, using the natural blind spot of every human.
He could assume the rashness of his prey probably meant he was almost completely unaware of such tactics, honestly it was the most basic of his last Guilds defense. When explained it almost seems like common sense, but in the heat of battle instincts usually take over. Plus common sense doesn't seem all that common in this world. | Enyo
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Personality:
Before the game became a reality, Enyo was a competitive gamer who always loved nothing more than playing with his friends. Now while trapped in this hell, he became a lot more serious. He found this new world as a fight for the fittest. He is a shell of his former self, instead of a joyful, helpful man. He has become callous, and uncaring. Or at least he acts that way.
History:
Enyo was one of the few who didn't really believe that you wold actually die in real life if you were to die in the game and still skeptical now. So he continued with his Guild "Skeletal Claws" leveling up and enjoying the occasional Duel in anyone who was worth a fight or stood in their way. None of them were truly sure if they were to kill someone they actually would die, so naturally none of them risked it. Only a few times did a Claw fight a person and "kill" them. Enyo was one of those men. The Claws ran a security business for traders and grinders, it wasn't too rare a few higher level players would bully out others from their "Territory". Th Skeletal Claws made sure they would think twice.
On floor 18 Enyo and most of his guild went on a quest to find a rare items that existed deep in a cave. While another guild lost five before them in trying to acquire the items, the Skeletal Claws didn't think anything of it. Claiming that guild was weak and not nearly as skilled as themselves. This was the Guild's down fall as 13 player or 75% of them died in the dungeon. Leaving the items to just Enyo, the lone survivor. After finding out what had happened, the Guild leaders took an offer they cold not refuse if they were to survive. Integrate into the Laughing Coffin. Enyo was outraged by the decision, deeming them too blood thirsty and game breaking. He was the only one to leave the guild, while the rest took up arms with the Laughing Coffins.
"Enyo, if you leave...You are just another player, an enemy. You do realize that right?"
"You know, I still haven't added a kill to the bane..."
"Maybe you never will."
Shortly after, Enyo was hunted all the way to the 20th floor. He held vital information of spots, abilities, and people. They didn't want him to share anything with others that might just try to stop the Coffins. Funny enough he actually didn't have anything that would remotely be of use to anyone. They continued to send former members of the Skeletal Claws his way, thinking a familiar face would lure him into a trap. It never worked.
Equipment:
Throwing Picks(Delay Effect coated poison)
Bearer's Bane - A Bardiche that cannot be replaced with another weapon unless thrown away. Adds a bleeding effect if the target is over half HP.
Specter Fighter Armor - Found with his Bardiche. It gives a good amount of protection without slowing down the user. TO Enyo's liking it gives a ghostly like figure as black smog escapes the armor occasionally. His head and shoulders are protected by plates, not only providing protection, but allowing his face to be hidden from light.
Skills: Enyo is an AGL based player. Usually just dodging attacks until finding an opening before striking, then jumping back and continuing the process until his target is defeated.
Guillotine- A special skill that comes with the weapon Bearer's Bane. The user leaps high in the air and comes down on the target delivering large damage.
Guild: None. Previously in the Guild: Skeletal Claws |
46,426 | 1,260 | 11 | 1,686 | 474 | Athel
Athel was exchanging blows, while taking note of what was happening on the far side. Most of the dramas happened on that spot, she was glad that someone secured the battle lines and prevented an ambush. The tank that she was engaging was just someone that has a Slow effect, nothing fanciful really. The key thing about him is that, he's strudy as hell, Athel could barely see his HP depleting, while she had about one-tenth of the damage done over already.
---
Damn it! The Laughing Coffin girl did not expect Varen's killing zone to be that wide. Its not often to see a person with a balanced build that can react that quickly, considering those people are pretty much dead due to their tendencey of soloing their territories. Her technique wasn't completed until she got struck by Varen's spear. "None of your business" Having been dealt quite an amount of damage to herself, she fell back as the initiate who was wearing a red hood & a broadsword charged at Varen, sending a Slash Of Silence skill at Varen, a skill that silences <<Active Skills>> for a few seconds if hit. The girl positioned herself at the initiate's back, relying on him for cover and ready for the opportunity that he will be making. "Dark Sight." That girl murmured as she drawn out a glove from her inventory menu, apparently casted a skill, though its hard to discern what had happened as she's currently at the back lines.
---
The lieutenant let loose a smile at that oncoming poncho, which made him loose a bit accuracy and deal half of the usual damage to Enyo. His reduced field of vision let the axe hit his leg, and reducing his overall HP by one sixth, which would further reduce to one fifth due to poison & bleed. "Better than what the rumours say, Enyo~" The lieutenant commented at the end of the first exchange of attacks. "Seems like this will be a fun one ~" he opened his left hand wide, which wasn't equipping anything, as he sent himself towards Enyo for another attack. "Steal" The Lieutenant used a skill that targets Enyo's throwing picks while he was at the halfway point which is apparently the maximum range of that Steal Skill. The steal is a very high success rate, due to it being a minor item & the lieutenant's mastery.
He threw a few of his recently gained picks at Enyo, casting a Haste skill that enhances his movement speed, quickly manuevering & charging at Enyo from the side, revealing a glowing dagger as he attempts a Double Stab on Enyo, an inferior skill as compared than his Sarrage Blow that he had used earlier, still this is a simpler technique that is harder to disrupt. He attempts a pincer attack with throwing pick from one side and daggers from the other side. | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,427 | 1,260 | 12 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
Up until now, even though Varen had a considerable reaction speed, the "gap" between him and the dagger user's attacks was already thinning by the time she switched with the initiate, his longer broadsword scoring an half inch deep hit on the redhead's armor covering the abdomen. Noticing the now active, nullifying penalty, the spearwielder jumped backward, continuing to do so as the PKer in the red hood advanced on him. "Hey buddy, take it easy. I didn't take you for the jealous type," he teased, his teeth clenching into a threatening smile throughout his counterattacks. "How about we both just talk things out, get to know each other..." he said, blocking a downward slice by abruptly rushing forward to meet the blade near the hilt with the shaft of his spear near the end, swinging said end over to deflect the sword and strike the swordsman in the side of the face. Varen then utilized the opportunity to attempt to force the bladed end of the spear across the boy's back while he's trying to regain his bearings. "But if that doesn't work, we could just pretend to like each other only when she's around - just like what girls do," he ended in an obnoxiously loud whisper, his hand at the side of his mouth. Varen made sure to try and keep track of the girl; she's keeping her distance for now, but she was definitely up to something | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,428 | 1,260 | 13 | 1,686 | 474 | Isamu "The Solo Player"
Isamu had just arrived at the scene of Enyo's battle, and with the skill of Dash, Isamu charged at the lieutenant to even the playing odds. Have to reach there, quickly! He had seen a sight like this before, its the scene of the moment before someone dies right in front of his eyes.
Enyo jumped, avoiding the two attacks that was sent at him. And, to have the opportunity use his strongest skill: Guillotine. He sent his axe down the Lieutenant boy, with a huge, crushing damage.
The Lieutenant smirked at Enyo's response, now his enemy is in mid-air, which is the perfect moment for an undisrupted Sarrage Blow. He sent himself right ahead to his opponent, sending Enyo the full sequence of the six slashes of his dagger. At the same time, he felt the axe crushing onto him. I guess this is it, what a nice fight~ In the midst of the decisive clash, the corner of the Lieutenant's eyes caught sight of Isamu who is heading for him, then he felt a stab on his side, and his HP bar depleting to zero.
----------------------------
Willow
The newbie was slammed to the side by Varen's counterattack. Not a surprise... The Laughing Coffin girl, Willow emerged from right behind that initiate, charging straight towards Varen from the front. Willow was slower than usual, and she appeared semi-transparent, with a slight tint of grey. The technique of Dark Sight gives her intangibility from Normal, skill-less attacks, but the technique slows her down, and she can't attack in that form. At least this noob know how to use Silence, but his Silence doesn't last as long as Ares.
"Its a bad thing that he can't Silence your mouth~" Willow uttered sarcastically as she entered into the reach of Varen's spear, closing in for her daggeer's reach.
Just at the moment, an Iron-plated Hog charged down the coast, slamming onto the initiate who was about to get up, cutting the battlefield into two. What the hell? Some f**king noob didn't clear that iron pest? At a time like this??? Willow was speechless to see the <<MISS>> indicators that the initiate was making on the Iron Hog. The Iron Hog is the strongest pig around and has a very high Avoidability, thus a STR-focused full tank would be missing that Swine till the cows come home. Still, the Iron Hog at the Hog Beach only spawns three times a day, and its a no-brainer to eliminate that Iron Hog regularly. And they didn't...
The tides of this PvP had turned completely against her favour from that Iron pig. Now she's isolated from the rest of her party, her original strategy was to have that Noob to Silence Varen again and again for her to safely grind his HP down. But now the teamwork has fallen down the drain. Her Dark Sight wore off as Varen was in her dagger's reach, and at the same time, Varen's Silence debuff wore off, clearly marking the signal to draw swords. Well, might as well make my last stand~ Willow flashed out her glowing red dagger, using her Double Stab skill at Varen.
-----------------------------
Athel
Someone died, but who? Athel wondered as she saw scattering polygons at the area where Enyo, that Laughing Coffin boy and Isamu clashed. She was still engaging with that full Tank beside the coast. Neither side took serious damage, as she pondered whether taking this position is ever a good idea. | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,429 | 1,260 | 14 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
"What's important is we're talking... (Angered Grunt)" Varen bantered before the implications of Willow's Dark Sight dawned on him, his potentially harmful spear thrusts not hitting their mark, providing no resistance to the advancing assailant, who would have definitely scored a fair hit on him if it wasn't for the timely arrival of an Iron Hog, which wasted no time in ramming down the PKer in training. After making sure to take the opportunity to give himself some distance between him and the his dagger-wielding attacker, he stole a second to "appreciate" the the new turn of events. "Whoa, that had to hurt..." He noted how the considerable distance between him and the rest of his party, easily attributed to him falling back throughout the fight, coupled with the arrival of the this new foe, meant that his current options were limited to say the least. Varen underestimated Willow's commitment to killing him, and before he knew it, she had already closed the gap, delivering a pair of good stabs to his upper body courtesy of her Double Stab skill. "(Guttural Growl) Still up for a fight, huh? Well... You got it! Varen staggered backward for a split second before aggressively lunging towards her to use his Spear Sweep skill, intending to catch her in its low swing and stun her temporarily. | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,430 | 1,260 | 15 | 1,686 | 474 | Isamu "The Solo Player"
Isamu held his breath against the scattering polygons of death. Its the first time he actually killed a person, despite the lack of any sign of hesitations, he felt unease when both the killer and the slain gets eye contact with each other. I'll be seeing you off in hell, together with that traitor... He was very sure that the Lieutenant didn't say anything, it is more of like his subconsciousness & instincts have read the Lieutentant's intentions at the moment of death.
Those words that ran in Isamu's head rang through at the sight of another person who fell with an empty HP bar: Enyo. The full force of that attack from the Lieutenant have taken Enyo's life as well. He was a step too late, as his eyes widened at the sight of someone who is clearly the strongest amongst his party meeting his end at a place like this. "Ha..." Isamu let out a sigh, his hands were tense at the sight of two scattering polygons. He found those glimmering green polygons beautiful for that instant, if it weren't for the association of deaths on them. Even the strongest can fall here... The harsh reality of this floor started sinking into Isamu...
Isamu emerged from the dying polygons, heading for the side lines to bring an end to this battle. Although he didn't know Enyo for too long, but he's not letting Enyo's death to be in vain.
Willow
Willow's eyes could see the spear coming at her like broad daylight. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out that a skill is used on that attack. Definitely a skill to slow down her movements. However, she couldn't do anything. The reach of the spear is about five times more than the reach of a dagger, and it is impossible for her to escape Varen's attack from a point blank range, unless she's significantly faster than him which isn't the case. With the death of her Lieutenant, the results of this battle is very clear to her. So at the last moment before the spear reached onto her, Willow dropped her dagger.
"Right, I surrender. I would rather die in the gallows than dying over a stupid pig~ " Willow, stunned, with a clearly frustrated tone of voice, and her eyes narrowed & darkened, with the look as if she had accepted her imminent fate of death. Though she is stunned, <<Status Effects>> wouldn't affect any in-game speech just like any MMORPGs. That calm & nonchalant gaze was unusual for a 14 year old girl like Willow, but she doesn't seem to be lying in any ways.
Athel
Both Athel and her enemy are now at half HP point. She was rather surprised at the sudden appearance of the iron hog. The other AGL player have fully restored at the back lines, and is now getting to the Laughing Coffin noob to kill it. Clearly on how that player engaged Athel earlier, he's another noob here. She remained unfazed at the confirmed sight of two death polygons, considering how she had been seeing that over and over again. "Such a cute pig ~" Athel taunted sarcastically at her opponent, who was tense at the death of his Lieutenant. | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,431 | 1,260 | 16 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
Varen was about to deliver a devastating blow to her, the blade of his spear reaching about an inch from her head from the left side, the force of the simulated air rustling the fringes of her red hood as well as her hair underneath. "(Annoyed sigh) You're lucky talking's a free action," he said less than amused, steadily lifting his weapon away from her and letting it rest over his shoulder. He had heard her surrender but was debating killing her up to that moment. In the end, there would be very little point. "You know: you could have saved me a lot of trouble by surrendering at the start instead of letting me get my hopes up," he scolded her, watching between her, following his gut by deciding to believe her, and the battlefield, finding their lieutenant downed and a good potion of their forces were diverted to deal with the Iron Hog. Sure he could join his team in their assault, but it seemed like their victory was a foregone conclusion. Besides, there was still the matter of what to do with his opponent. "So... how should this work again? Sorry, but I don't usually see many crazy psychos surrender like this," he admitted in a rather dopey manner, his free hand scratching the back of his head, unsure whether she'd like to be taken prisoner and transported to an Army holding facility where she'll stay imprisoned or if she'd much rather be "mercy killed" on the spot by him, or whatever really. | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,432 | 1,260 | 17 | 1,686 | 474 | Willow
"Just send me to Ascord after you're done with your business, surely there are dozens of people who want my head ~" Willow walked off as she went sitting on the side, watching the scene of the coast. "Nom~, feel free to kill the rest, they're the ones who f**ked up anyways ~" She crunched on her potato chips, seemingly enjoying the view from the backseat.
---
"You didn't slay that pig earlier, nice job, I thought I'm the noob here..." The initiate commented to the boy with the blue dagger, who had just slain the iron hog on behalf of that initiate, "Shut up."
The boy of the curved dagger and the initiate rushed to Varen's side of the battle, but now its clear that they're a bit disorganized as the initiate went charging at Varen with another Slash of Silence
Isamu "The Solo Player"
Isamu was about to kill off Willow, until he noticed the initiate and the curved dagger guy returning to the field of battle. That girl doesn't have any weapon and seemed chill...? Its a higher priority to assist Varen for now. Just what happened here... strange...? He thought, as he used another skill of Dash as Isamu threw quick slashes at that dagger boy, crippling down that guy's HP bar. "Lieutenant's down, lets end this! But what's with that Laughing Coffin girl?" Isamu made sure that he never let his guard down to the girl Willow as he asked. | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,433 | 1,260 | 18 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
"You're the prisoner," Varen agreed through an enthused grin, giving her a big, energetic nod prior to her departing to the distance to spectate. He watched as she did so. It really appeared to him that she was indeed calling it quits and he internally enjoyed his gut being right for a change. "Ah ah ah," he patronizingly yet playfully wagged his finger at her. "You had me at 'kill the rest'."
Ready to head back into the fray, Varen paused to realize that the party was coming his way. Isamu had quickly intercepted the dagger user, leaving the familiar initiate charging the spear wielder, Varen recognizing his glowing dagger as readying a skill, likely another Slash of Silence. So... Not pig chow after all, huh? Lucky him, he mused, thrusting a preemptive heavy thrust his way, towards his shoulder successfully landing a good hit, but not stopping the orange player who's sword scored a slice on the left side of his waist. His armor had served him well thus far, but aside from his skills being "silenced", he was within around 35% of his original HP, and a critical or particularly strong attack could kill him.
Varen managed to meet the initiate's sword with his spear, his hands holding the pole at either side of the sword, the two players engaged in a gritty match of strength. "Who, her...?!" he asked Isamu in as lightly as his strained voice could muster, his attention to his opponent but already knowing which girl he's referring to. "Well, funny story actually...! You see: We got to talking...! and it turns out we have a lot in common...! Eventually, she just couldn't bare to kill me...! (Low Grunt) and surrendered!" Pulling back his spear, Varen strenuously shoved it and the initiate's sword back and upward. "What can I say?!" In a single, vicious motion, he pivoted as he lunged forward, his spear gaining in force till it was eventually rammed into the swordsman's chest. "I'm irresistible..." | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,434 | 1,260 | 19 | 1,686 | 474 | The Laughing Coffin initiate was dealt with the full brunt of the attack. He was already weakened by the previous attack made by Varen earlier before, and had no time to recover due to some 'unexpected circumstances'. His HP is already low just like most of the people on this beach, and with that spear thrust, his HP reached 0, as he scattered into green polygons.
Isamu "The Solo Player"
"Sounds like a likely story, but..."
Isamu took pursuit of that guy who was about to flee, and slashed his throat in cold blood. That dagger guy started to fade into polygons from his depleted HP. He spat at the corpse, not exactly because he disrespects his opponents, but its just to ease himself in the unforgiving warzone. He returned to the sidelines without much delay, to put a swift end with the unfinished business.
"Make sure none of them escape from here alive, Enyo died, so we mustn't put his sacrfice in vain." Isamu stated to Varen in a clear & concise manner, now heading to the tanky opponent that her sister, Akemi is still clashing with. The tank is now very open to Varen too, the results of the battle is pretty clear now, as the tank is now vulnerable on three sides.
Athel
Athel, with 1/5 of her HP, was rather amused at the sight of her opponent starting to rout away. "Not too easy," Athel had saved her skill Apprehend for this very moment, with her ax extending and pulling her opponent back in front her, "Send my regards to my grandpa~"
She beheaded the Laughing Coffin guy without hesitation, naturally letting out a slight smile at the sight of those scattering polygons , from her relief of her avenging her highschool friends.
Athel sprang forward to assist Akemi, now that her role of the battlefield is pretty much over.
Willow
"Those green petals, a fascinating sight as always ~" Willow took another bite off her potato chip, enjoying the scenery of the polygons fading away throughout the beach. This time it was their side bleeding into those petals. She could tell that her last party member have the word 'death' written all over him. Being attacked from four sides, that's nothing more than a one-sided execution for that tank now. Just one more attack on that Laughing Coffin Tank, and he will turn green in a way. May you rest in peace ... | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,435 | 1,260 | 20 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
Varen patiently observed Isamu dispatch the retreating dagger user, a small break of a chuckle escaping his mouth as the formerly lone player spat at his dying and fragmenting opponent. He wondered at all the time and effort some jerk-asses spent to program things like this into a game, a "death-game" no less. It seemed like a waste, a hilarious waste, but a waste nonetheless. Still, he waited for his teammate until he was ready to fight again. It was the least Varen could do after Isamu kindly waited until he eventually finished off the initiate himself.
The red-haired spearman quickly followed after the soloplayer. Enyo. So that was your name... he thought, as he trailed behind, his carefree expression betraying nothing. "Yeah, that guy sure loved to kill. How about we kill one more guy for him!" Varen enthusiastically exclaimed, his weapon firmly grasped with his left hand. He would likely be the last person to reach the tank. Still, Varen grinned, knowing his attacks' added piercing damage should prove effective.
Once on the scene, he circled the tank, making sure to stay out if the PKer's range. Varen threw the occasional knife to divert the target's attention and granting the others a chance to attack. Only when attention wasn't on him would he poke and prod the tank with his spear. | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,436 | 1,260 | 21 | 1,686 | 474 | Akemi's handle shone red, as its tip shapeshifted into a spear. She thrusted her spear into her opponent and being experienced in this, she doesn't bat an eye at the sight of killing. Under the tank's scattering polygons, she looted his dropped inventory, maintaining a gentle smile at the other 3 party members, "Good that the battle is now over, but nothing really useful in this one~"
Due to her tanky armour, she still have half of her remaining HP, higher than anybody else in the battlefield currently. She looked around, and got rather puzzled when she noticed Willow sitting by the side of scene of the former battle.
"I assume we're capturing her alive, aren't we?"
And that was a really uncommon situation at a place like this.
Athel & Isamu
"One left," Athel's pair of eyes are fixated towards the last person standing, Willow. Without hesitation, Athel charged at Willow, her axe raised as she prepared to send Willow off in two pieces. Despite so, Willow remained unfazed.
"Cut it out," Isamu followed ahead and blocked that oncoming strike with his sword, "We will get more info from her alive than dead, Varen could vouch for that."
Willow
"Ha..." Willow got up as she sighed, and continued with a slight smirk, "Before you all get into some infighting on deciding whether to leave me dead or alive, with a Lieutenant dead, the Warchief will appear and clear this mess in one way or another. Unless you all want to fight him with that many HP and potions while still keeping an enemy on your side, I suggest you all to retreat. But now to think about it, that would be an ideal scenario for me of course,"
She said sarcastically, turning to gaze to the side, "Speak of the devil, he's here, that Ares~"
Warchief Ares
At the edge of the Pig Beach, a man in red armor was sitting by a hillside, casually viewing his Guild List while leeching EXP from his party members during his grinding break. All of them have orange cursors above their head, clearly signifying that they are members of the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild. "Eh...?" Ares felt something amiss when he realized that there is only two Lieutenants in his list. Scrolling down his cursor carefully, he realized that his third Lieutenant, Duckk, along with the rest of his party members have disappeared from his Guild. The only one alive in Duckk's party is Willow, fortunately.
"Damnit, they're all dead..." The Warchief Ares raced for the Pig Beach without delay, with his sword equipped on his right hand, and a spear on his left. He had relayed a Guild message for one of his Lieutenants to cover his back.
Clearers
"I see," Athel put down her axe, as she saw the Warchief approaching from the far side, "A Dual Wielder, I swear you guys are loaded as hell in Cors..."
There is one simple reason why Dual Wielding isn't that common, two weapons are more expensive than one, and in the long run there is upgrading and maintenance which makes it very unviable. Its a very expensive skill to take.
"Retreat," Akemi, being the rational one, issued that order, as she continued, "And if the hostage turns back or even slow us down, eliminate her without question."
The party would start to back down if there aren't any objections. | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,437 | 1,260 | 22 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
Varen had no qualms in spectating as Akemi dispatched the last tank, somewhat satisfied that he managed a get a hit in at least. "That's the idea," he answered in his usual unserious manner, his spear casually over his shoulder. The coast seemed clear in both senses of the word for the time being, so he decided to down a potion, replenishing a large portion of his health. Additional combat wasn't very likely, but there was little point in having his HP so low.
However, while he was healing himself, Athel charged at Willow, the spear-wielder unable to intercept. But as he saw Isamu move in, it occured to him that he probably didn't have to.
"Cut it out," Isamu followed ahead and blocked that oncoming strike with his sword, "We will get more info from her alive than dead, Varen could vouch for that."
"If you say so, then it's fine by me," Varen said, very much carefree again. He was willing to corroborate with or do whatever it took to get Willow off the beach alive. After all the trouble of not killing her, he wasn't just going to let her get killed now, and certainly not by anyone other than himself.
It was after Willow's caution, which Varen wasn't really paying attention to, that the Warchief appeared. "Just when you think it's over..." Varen noted with a big smile on his face. He readied his spear, personally believing that they could eventually overpower the dual-wielder. Sure, there was a chance that a few of them would die, but there was a fair chance he'd make it at least.
"Retreat," Akemi, being the rational one, issued that order, as she continued, "And if the hostage turns back or even slow us down, eliminate her without question."
"Awww, damn it..." Varen muttered to himself, glaring at the oncoming Warchief. Any offensive would be doomed to failure unless everyone is on the same page. But with Akemi's order, he couldn't expect backup if he didn't turn back. Besides, it wasn't like the guy's reinforcements would be very far behind. He let out a rough sigh, ultimately turning to retreat with the others. "... Whatever you say, fearless leader." | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,438 | 1,260 | 23 | 1,686 | 474 | The clearers were on a retreat, but the gap between the clearers and the warchief is closening, due to his higher overall stats as compared to the clearers. It is clear that they will get caught up before they reached the safezone.
Akemi
"Shit..." Akemi cursed as she turned her head for a moment to see what's going on behind. She knows that a Warchief is stronger than the previous 5 opponents combined, challenging him without full HP nor sufficient potions is nothing beyond a suicidal move. At this rate, we're not going to make it...
"I will slow him down, you all just keep on running and don't look back," Akemi equipped her spear, turning to face the Warchief Ares with her weapon shining red.
"Don't worry brother, I will come back alive, I promise. Take care of my fellow guildmates for me." Akemi charged towards the Warchief, breaking out her usual confident smile as she left the clearers. She felt no regrets for this, the only thing she felt unfair is that she had reunited with her brother, who she had seen him going from a wheelchair-bound loner to an upstanding brother, in a Floor like this.
Isamu "The Solo Player"
"I hope you're kidding here, really..." Isamu kept himself together by giving a sarcastic reply. He knew that this decision was the best course of action to make in a scenario like this, and prevents the whole party dying. His sister has the highest HP of all, so with her as the decoy, they would have the highest chance of survival. He can't do anything, his HP was too low that he doubt he could outlast more than several attacks. But still, his whole year of getting stronger to protect her sis, staining his own hands to survive here, all this, rendered nothing in a mere instant.
To think that there are some people who broke down at the First Floor itself... Now to think about it, he found it rather amusing. But here in this unforgiving Floor, one would lose their lives at the moment their composure starts swaying away. He forced himself not to look back, not to gaze at his blood-related kin slipping away from behind him.
Athel
Athel wasn't surprised at something like this happening. She had seen this over and over, but something more of the concern to her is that, they will be reaching the Watchtower soon enough. With that, their escape route is secured. | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,439 | 1,260 | 24 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
That bitch... Varen thought as Akemi turned to charge at the ridiculously fast warchief. I guess I really can't win... can I? His spear resting on his back, his view turned among his fellow retreating clearers. Without a doubt, this was the sorriest band of misfits he ever had the displeasure of being a part of. He wore the same carefree look he always did when he looked to their prisoner, sighing wistfully to himself. "Hey, Willow. Do something worthwhile with your life, will ya? Don't go getting yourself killed. You hear me?" he told her. He would have loved to hear her response, but knew there wasn't much time. He stopped running, giving his comrades a simple and casual two-finger salute. He turned around one last time and ran after Akemi, already thinking of some choice words for her, but starting things off with: "Hey! Get your ass back to the tower!" Shit, why do I always end up falling for the bad girl?... | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,440 | 1,260 | 25 | 1,686 | 474 | Athel
"Count me in~" Athel, along with Isamu, went after Akemi's detachment to fend after Ares' pursuit.
Willow
"I'm not going to escape unless you allow me that opportunity to do so," Willow sighed in response to a question so obvious. One person stalling the pursuit of her Warchief is quite a neat idea indeed, prevents her from escaping in midst of chaos too. Until the sight of everybody going up to challenge the Warchief and letting their guard down against her. People who doesn't know how to choose on who to live or die, figures... This match will be a fun one...~
With that, Willow fled & disappeared from the scene.
Ares
Ares grinned at the sight of the entire party of upstarts abandoning the hostage and challenging him without Full HP. Its been a couple of months since a clearer had actually dared to point swords at him. He wouldn't be so lucky this time, he had given his corridor crystal to the Witch, but he has intent to enjoy this battle fully. Swinging down his spear on his left hand, a small yellow blast was sent out to Varen & Athel, and at the same time, he exchanged attacks with Akemi with his sword on his right hand.
Athel got hit by the blast, she only received minor damage, but she got the same familiar feeling of a status effect, the effect of Silence. No skills & shyt, annoying...
Just then, Willow approached Athel from the side, charging at her as she activates Dark Sight at the last moment, with a mischievous smile. "Lets have a couple of rounds here, Athel the Butcher ~"
Athel took notice of the same girl that was their hostage: Willow, she regretted for trusting her party too much and not killing her in like the last couple of minutes ago. Damnit! She ranted to herself as her axe passed through Willow completely without any sign of damage. She felt a stab from the side as Willow deactivated her Dark Sight, taking a slight chunk from Athel's HP bar. Athel tried to return a slash to Willow, but Willow turned grey again as the axe passed through her, who retreated away from Athel's range as it wore off, spinning her dagger with a slight yawn on her face.
Athel's skills are sealed, the Silence of this Ares guy is no joke, it is well-polished and long-lasting, but talking about skills, she realized that Willow didn't use any of her skills and used only normal attacks, she could have killed Athel if she was really trying.
"Anything else? The Iron Pig won't ruin everything this time~~"
Athel's silenced status has worn off, and Willow is clearly holding back. Isamu was about to join in the battle until a Lieutenant intercepted him and started clashing with this guy. | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,441 | 1,260 | 26 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
Varen growled angrily as he looked back after hearing Athel and Isamu abandon Willow and try and join in the fight, their prisoner going free. At this point, as far as he was concerned, those two, provided they were still alive by the end of this, better have hoped he wasn't or at the very least "all killed out". Had he known that this would have happened, he would have lopped off Akemi's legs and demanded the others drag her back to the tower. Now he had provoked some idiots to get themselves killed... so mixed feelings, all things considered.
Still, he didn't have time to think about what he simply couldn't change now as Ares sent a silencing blast his way, the spearman diving out of the way, quickly getting back on his feet to find that Athel had been hit, soon clashing with Willow who showed up to harass her under her skill of Dark Sight. Isamu advanced to provide assistance, but was then intercepted by a <<Laughing Coffin>> Lieutenant, leaving Varen spoiled for choice as to whom he should assist first, provided said Lieutenant didn't also bring his team along, in which case the red head knew exactly what he needed to do.
Guess it's now or never... Varen thought, calmly unequipping his weapon and opening a window to navigate through his gear, a particular set in mind. In a matter of a few seconds his armor shifted into a new set, his spear following suit and switching into a bladed spear with a fluffy, brightly colored charm on it. His new armor was more elaborately designed than his Medium Hunter Armor. It was by a considerable margin, the strongest gear he had and he was eager to put them to use. If left unhindered, he would brandish his new spear and head for Akemi and the Warchief, reasoning above all else that if she should fall and the leader left unhindered, then no one is getting back alive no matter what happens with the others. His reach was slightly shorter than before, but Varen would try and work in tandem with Akemi, seizing an opportunity to unleash a series of rapid strikes totaling four across Ares' left side as Akemi was meeting his sword on the leader's right. | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,442 | 1,260 | 27 | 1,686 | 474 | Ares
The strike from Varen has struck Ares in the shoulder, but by the time Varen has finished his strike, Ares' hand along with his HP bar has restored to his full HP as if nothing has happened to him. Seeing this, Ares let out a sigh.
"And here I thought I would be facing another person who could overcome my 'Regen' like Garrows, I must've gotten my hopes up..."
Perhaps due to that letdown, Ares had failed to notice his own status effect, and now to think about it, he doesn't even need to maintain his guard against Azumi. Not even her Sarge of Strength skill has any significance to the Warchief's HP bar. Ares swung his sword on a wide arc towards Azumi & Varen, its glow indicating the use of <<Silence>> effect.
Athel
You're kidding me... Athel gulped at that unbelievable <<Regeneration>> of that Warchief. But then she realized that Varen is using a different Spear, with a different type of effect known as debuff. Observing Azumi's attack later on, she realized one thing, the debuff effect on the Warchief is actually working, albeit insignificantly. Three--- no, we need Four stacks of Varen's debuff to do anything to this Warchief... For his level, that debuff would last 4 seconds at most. Within four seconds for each strike... make four successions of that debuff skill... Athel had been clashing with PKers long enough to figure out things like that, and this is the easiest way she can think of to take down the Warchief.
"Impossible? No, it can be done..."
Athel murmured to herself. At the moment she saw Ares starting his skill and swinging down to her fellow party members, she immediately used her <Apprehend> skill to drag him towards her, making the Warchief miss his intended targets but instead, redirecting the attack to herself. She knew that at all costs, Varen must not be Silenced, as a clear opening has been made for Varen & Azumi, she shouted, "NOW!" | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,443 | 1,260 | 28 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
"Nice regen. See Akemi? I told you looks and skill aren't everything...!" Varen hastily quipped, his spear igniting from its charm and then to its blade, a welcome sight in the face of Ares' very considerable regenerative ability (Varen: Yeah I consider it to be the cheapest load of b******t I ever saw in my life, if that's what you mean!) A dirty look about his features, he knew that it was going to be an uphill battle from the moment after his first strike landed. Never letting up the offensive, Varen was prepared to take the <<Silence>> head on, not seeing much of a choice if he wanted the burn damage to compliment his weapon's dps in any meaningful way. However, his eyes widened abruptly, when, just before the PKer's sword sweeped the two of them, the dual-wielder was pulled away with the force of Athel's <<Apprehend>>, herself receiving the disabling affect. Varen had a feeling that his <<Day Breaker>> skill would be crucial, it being a dynamic attack in itself, but its progressive equipment debuff especially being vital to ensuring significant damage thereafter, perhaps more than even his (Varen: Cheap!) <<Regen>> could handle. Of course, getting the guy to sit still was the problem that was always on his mind. So when Athel yelled "NOW", he knew pretty much what he needed to do. "Regenerate from this!" No sooner had the Warchief been pulled than he was struck with Varen's cataclysmic <<Day Breaker>> from the side, the spear-wielder charging in to heroically spam the ability, aiming for Ares' larger armor making for a bigger target for Akemi and anyone else joining in, each blow erupting with armor fragments and streams of flame, the grass around them swaying as if by a chaotic storm. <<Apprehend>>'s temporary reduction to speed and agility would be especially useful during the barrage. | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,444 | 1,260 | 29 | 1,686 | 474 | Ares
What the team of clearers have made was a mere split second opportunity, but the Slow effect from Athel was enough for the Warchief to receive one clean hit from Varen. And just like before, the HP bar regenerated to full very quickly as he deflected the second oncoming attack with his sword. With his spear on the other hand, Ares threw his spear to Azumi before she could do anything, granting her with some damage and a Silence effect.
"Burn now? Quite a crafty plan to tackle my regen, but the one with poison is sealed, so your choice of stacking both poison & burn are all out, I'll see what you'll do now ~"
Ares taunted in amusement, with the slight grin towards the 'poison user', not even two debuffs would be able to take him down. To be honest, he was expecting something more from them, his throwing of the spear was done at the spur of the moment when he realized what was going on, but with the two people on the side-lines with their skills sealed away, one weapon was more than enough to hold his own, especially with his regen. But, <Burn> does not stack, so that spear guy in front of him is barely any threat. With that in mind, Ares charged towards Azumi, to make short work of her. My Battle Healing could handle this one guy, and I'm sure they would arrive by now...
Athel
Two out of four... Athel was relieved that the attack work. But, there is one more person to worry about, with her sealed state: Willow. And as expected, the red hooded girl was coming by the side, with her Dark Sight activated again. In response to this, Athel raised her axe, the tip pointing towards Willow's neck, her gaze focused to her opponent. It doesn't do anything, just to express her full intentions to kill her. Willow made sure that she was away from Varen's range, as she closed towards her side.
"I like that look of yours, funny to think that Ares made such a stupid conclusion... I know what you all are trying to pull off, but I'll keep that a secret between us. My fun is about to end, I'll have to swap with someone you're more familiar with ~~"
Strangely, Willow backed away from the scene without attacking. Behind Willow was a party of forty hooded players with Orange cursors above all of them, ready to reinforce their Warchief. The entire men under Ares' liege have gathered on the battlefield. Athel's Silence have wore off by the time the horde of Laughing Coffin members engaged on her side. Using the skill Apprehend, Athel pulled in some of the PKers who are trying to move in by the side, beheading them with one swing of her axe. Seeing a familiar glint, Athel hastily parried off the sword the axe handle. It was the lieutenant Argil, the one she had clashed swords with above the scattering corpses of her classmates.
"Using numbers on me again? Didn't you forget what I did to your troops the last time we met?"
Athel taunted, as she tried her best on holding off the forces in the meantime. The numbers are less concentrated on Isamu's side, most likely done so to suppress her <Apprehend> skill. For a moment, she was pondering on how a bunch of initiates is harder to deal with than those common hoods. That Duckk Lieutenant? No... if he's that capable of using them like that, he wouldn't have died so easily... | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,445 | 1,260 | 30 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
"Huh... so you did..." Varen spoke up, believing the he'd at least have time for another strike before the Warchief recovered. He could only watch as the red player flung his silencing spear at Akemi, disabling her much like Athel before. "You know... since you're so powerful, have you thought of how embarrassing it would be for us if you just stood there and let us futilely wail on you for a few minutes? No?..." the spear wielder offered lightly, although a little tensely. The strategy of banter and keeping the enemy distracted certainly wasn't working as well with members of <<Laughing Coffin>> as it had with previous players he had fought, but it wasn't just a switch he could turn on or off. Plus it helped to keep his mouth busy while he thought of what to do next. But it wasn't like he had to think for very long, as, after a few blocks from his spear, Ares rushed passed him, closing in on Akemi, or was it Azumi... I'm not too sure. Anyway, Varen immediately followed suit after her-would be attacker. "YO! Don't you go ignoring me now!" he called out, swinging his spear into a <Spear Sweep>, the arcing reach of which preferably being enough to catch and even stun the assailant. If the move was enough to halt and indeed confound Ares, Varen would then attempt to take the opportunity to strike once again with <Day Breaker> at the Pker's torso. | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,446 | 1,260 | 31 | 1,686 | 474 | Ares
The spear had stunned Ares successfully, as the following up <Day Breaker> dealt another blow to the Warchief's defense. Before another strike could be done in, the horde of Hooded killers who had took a detour from Athel charged and disrupted Varen's attack. And as usual, the damage regenerated, though gap the damage and regen rate is getting closer.
Just one more... Athel looked to the side for a moment as she blocked another one of the strikes from Argil's sword. The hooded troops have stayed away from her killing reach while taking detours past her line of defense. Damnnit... The moment I pay too much attention to them, that bastard would send slashes at me. This tank is as troublesome as before... Due to the sheer inferiority of numbers, she only succeeded to hold the PKers at bay for only a few seconds.
"Lets end this today, you and I, only one of us will walk away alive"
Azumi headed for the PKers on Varen's side, fending off for the spear wielder Varen.
"I've picked up this red headed spear, he's just a sword wielder now, I'll cover your back, so end this as quick as we can, time isn't well at our side."
Azumi stated, wielding the spear she had 'received' from the Warchief. The last clash will be a last one, and a quick decisive battle of four seconds before the stacks of debuffs on the warchief gets undone. The Warchief was facing towards Varen, seemingly knowing what was actually going on. | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,447 | 1,260 | 32 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
"Not cool! Tell your fan club to buzz off! Unless of course, you really can't take a few upstarts by yourself!" Varen taunted in a snarky timbre, yet there was a clear undertone of frustrated spite at the turn of events. He ferociously swung his spear around, a threatening maneuver to brush the meddling horde away from him. He wasn't stoked about having to watch his flank the entire time, and would therefore be glad to see Azemi, watch his back, nodding to her before facing Ares again. "You call this living?! No one's walking away from this! We're both vegetables in a crappy hospital bed, getting our butts sponged to hell for all we know!... (Sinister Smile) But how about I do ya a favor?... I'll spare you from a fate worse than death!!"
Varen was attacking and counterattacking in a near frantic flurry of embers and sparks, more of a formality to buy time as his skills replenished. Even so, the Warchief wasn't without his fair share of successful attacks, though they were noticeably less often than what would have been the case had he fought someone other than Varen, the head hancho's blows definitely making an impact, stripping away up to a third of his health. Each brush of the sword against the spear wielder's person was a break in his concentration and rhythm, facets of his defense that he struggled to restore, instinct picking up the slack and guiding his shaft as well as his body until his mind took over, resuming the hectic, deadly dance. But within seconds, Varen realized that the player killer was stepping up his offense to a fierce degree, to the point that a clean hit was near impossible. The red head narrowed his emerald colored eyes. He couldn't keep this up for much longer.
Well s**t... (increasingly unhinged laughter)...
Okay... How about one more miracle you two? What do you say?... Pipe down already (playful chuckling)... What's a big bro for?...
Anyone not paying close enough attention would miss what was technically done within fractions of a second. Varen, after securing a relatively good amount of distance with a shove of his weapon, charged at Ares, his Flame Daybreak Spear igniting at the tip and glowing to signify the activation of <Daybreaker>. Keep your eye on the shiny, big boy... Spear trained forward, it looked like a head on assault until he started launching a few throwing knives mid rush, precise projectiles which Ares easily deterred with his blade, the last knife aiming low. In the exact moment that his sword met the low aiming shot, Varen launched himself up in the air, his body slanting leftward, his flaming spear in his right hand and another knife in his left hand. Twisting his whole body towards Ares, his left hand let fly with the knife that hindered the rising sword just enough so that it wouldn't interfere with the maneuver, let alone kill him outright. Yet rise the sword did, the resulting slash taking a whole other third from his health and a little more besides that. But all the same, the Warchief couldn't stop <Day Breaker>, which the very mid air Varen swung down like a hammer upon the leader's shoulders, a dynamic trail of fire streaming from behind the spear tip, a fuse that lead to an even greater explosion at the point where armor and spear met.
Slight of hand, baby! (laughter) I should have been a magician.
...
For what it's worth... there are worse ways to go... I can't think of anything right now, but it'll come to me, when it's too late... Heh...
F*****g hell... Those were my favorite pair too...
Smoke, dust and, if all went according to plan, crystalline shards of armor and such, engulfed where the both of them were. As the shroud lifted around the edges, Varen could be seen lying on the ground, facing upward. His spear was a few feet away, but he couldn't reach it, not seeing much point in doing so. Both his legs were severed clean off from Ares' attack, a fanciful, colored "gash" marking where his left thigh and right calf ended abruptly. "Wrong on both counts, j*****s!" Varen shouted into the sky after a laughing fit. "And for my next miracle!?!..."
"...No regrets..." he tiredly sighed as he slowly closed his weary eyes. His legs would have regenerated back to normal within a few minutes, but that may have been minutes he didn't have. Whether Ares was alive or dead, he was still a sitting duck. There wasn't a guarantee that the others could wipe out the rest of the PKers; retreat may very well be the best option, and there was no way he could make it to the watchtower now.
This is fine... Guess I'll come up with some epic last words... "(deep breath) Six out of ten... Community kinda sucks... Well... on the whole, anyway..." he muttered under his breath, a boyish grin on his face. | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,448 | 1,260 | 33 | 1,686 | 474 | From that clash with Varen, the Warchief had successfully gotten four stacks of armor debuff. Seizing the crucial moment, Athel let out a distinctive whistle that echoed throughout the battlefield, signalling the entire party for the final, decisive charge. That moment, everybody turned their backs from their opponents that they are facing, sending themselves towards Ares to end him with their one best cut. The attacks from Athel, Akemi & Isamu descended upon the Warchief mercillessly, sparing not even a slightest amount of timing that could potentially turn against them.
Ares' <Battle Healing> has finally been overcame, his HP bar has been reduced by only one quarter at the end of this one-second engagement. 3 seconds are left on that debuff, and that silencing slash sent to Akemi, although didn't kill her, but it disrupted their DPS and killed any hope of killing Ares. To add to the situation, the re-engagement of the clearers' original enemies have scattered the charge for the Warchief's head.
"Hey, you're still alive, what a surprise~"
Athel scurried away to Varen's side as she nudged him by kicking on his wound 'harmlessly'.
"Get up, The sun is still shining brightly. Oh, you don't have legs. You still have hands, this will be my last card, so on my signal, raise your spear."
Ares focused on his attention towards Akemi, now that the annoying spear user was unable to move, the coast is clear for him to pick the clearers out one by one. They were more crafty than he had ever thought, he would've lost his life if he were to act carelessly. Fortunately now, as long as he's away from that spear wielding Joker's reach, his victory will be certain. "Its all over now." Most of Akemi's HP has been depleted, as Ares sent that one final slash towards Akemi. The Warchief felt a grab from an axe suddenly.
"KILL HIM!"
Athel has caught Ares with her Apprehend skill when he was too occupied in killing Akemi, sending him back towards Varen's side. The clearers sent themselves for another charge at the Warchief.
"You cheating bastards...!"
Being pulled away from the jaws of victory, and knowing there wasn't anything he could do, Ares cursed down his last words. That 'Final Slash' wasn't for Akemi, it was his own, as the entire party closened on him to send him to his maker, Putting everything upon Varen's spear. | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,449 | 1,260 | 34 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
Varen was prematurely rehearsing a conceited and self-serving back-and-forth he imagined he'd have to take up with any member of his team that may have felt inclined to try and save him, his dialogue along the lines of "save yourselves", "well I wouldn't say hero, but..." and many other hackneyed quips. He wasn't serious of course, rather just whimsically wasting time until his death. That said, he was intrigued at how the oncoming footfalls didn't really seem to carry with them the murderous intent of a Warchief who'd been taken down a peg. Perhaps the cliche was coming true after all in a touchingly unexpected display of camaraderie, the likes of which...
"Ach! Okay okay! I'm awake already!" Varen surged with life, although not by choice, his arms hoisting himself up with a bit of a glare in Ethel's direction for disturbing his self indulgent waste of time. "Kick on my wound all 'harmlessly' like that, you little... I'll teach you to- What?! My spear!?" him frantically jerking his head from side to side until he caught sight of his weapon just a few feet away. Retreiving it wouldn't be considered a monumental task, yet he did only have a second or so before the debuff wore off. Using his leg stumps and arms to fling himself closer, Varen just kind of flopped front first, close enough to reach the tail end of the shaft, having to pin said end into the ground to help himself get right side up.
Varen's eyes beamed wide at seeing the the Warchief stagger in his direction, the others having forced him by way of a final push towards the spearwielder. He had thought of at least two one-liners to say at this point. But as he pushed himself forward to add in that little extra force into a final, desperate pierce at Ares' core, he decided against them as they were too cliche, even for him. He simply grit his teeth under a guttural growl as the blade of his spear found purchase, the weight driving the other end to the ground once again. | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,450 | 1,260 | 35 | 1,686 | 474 | Ares' HP bar has turned black after the final clash of the clearers, as he toppled down the ground motionlessly. The corpses of what was once alive a couple of seconds ago started reducing away into green polygons. The hooded army was stunned for a mere moment from the fall of their Warchief, but they continued the battle instead of faltering and retreating. Athel wasn't surprised from this, as she eyed towards her archenemy Argil with a smirk. Despite Ares losing his head, Argil is clearly not giving any grounds for them. They will have to make full use of that victory they had, or the tides will turn back into the PKers favor.
"I'm off fending that blueheaded bastard, just roll around reduce their numbers, thanks~"
Athel ditched scurried away from Varen, getting back on to reengage Argil. Those aren't a problem for Varen. As Akemi was trying to close in and assist Athel, Athel quickly pointed her on the other direction: the one towards her brother. "Don't." Athel said sternly, which Akemi immediately followed without question, turning towards Isamu. Not because she trusted Athel, but she felt more dangerous the closer she approached that Lieutenant. True enough, a squad of hooded guys was about to charge in from the side, ready to intercept Akemi and slow her down enough for Argil to take her life had she not turned back.
"Somehow I wished this would be our first encounter, you weren't as crafty as before~"
Argil said in a friendly tone in midst of the exchange of attacks between him and Athel. She had changed alot, she, if not most people, would've let her guard down from a victory like this had it been a month before.
"So do you, neither of us would be as stupid, after losing all their comrades."
Athel replied. Taking advantage at a loss isn't something Argil would do back then. She was trying her best at maintaining her composure, after all, he was the one who killed her highschool friends in cold blood. Of course she wanted to send Argil a one-way ticket to hell, but the moment she acted rashly, she will be the one visiting her grandfather.
Akemi sent herself to flank the Lieutenant her brother is engaging, as the Lieutenant turned into green polygons from that engagement. As expected, that lieutenant wasn't well guarded, and the troops at this side wasn't that organized. Argil wasn't that easy to flank, for he was now the person with the direct command of that 40 man army. Now, they will have to reduce the numbers of the Laughing Coffin one by one, away from Argil, before thinking of attacking Argil. The sibling started on the meat grinder for the Hooded Men. | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,451 | 1,260 | 36 | 1,491 | 516 | Varen
The Warchief Ares' departure didn't really interest Varen as it would have on a different day, the spectacularly virtual display of dispersing polygons not all that different from the death of any other player. It may have tickled his fancy if the (Varen: sore loser) had actually been impaled on his spear, sliding down the shaft in such a fashion as to ensure Varen was the last thing he saw before his avatar shattered into nothing. But as it happened, Varen was less than enthused with the victory, seeing little consolation for the loss of his legs; he merely lay where he was, staring up at the sky with his weapon flat at his side.
If only my feet were here to see this, he passively thought, his head turning to see Athel leave him with a smidge of instruction before rushing back into the fray to fight Argil. "So I take it retreat isn't an option? No? You're going to cover the others' escape? Nope, you're... you're all just going to keep fighting... Okay... that's cool," Varen inquired aloud, very cognizant that Athel wasn't going to entertain his notion of quitting while they were ahead, but continuing to talk to himself anyway. He at fist wondered if both he and Athel would cover the siblings' withdrawal. But it became clear with everyone being locked in combat, that they were determined to stay and fight. "Blue-headed? What are cyber death games coming to nowadays," the red head chuckled aloud.
The subsequent fall of the Lieutenant at the hands of Akemi and Isamu had shifted total control of the small army to Argil, the PKers forming a formidable meat shield that prevented interference with his and Athel's duel. Varen would have loved to butt in on that duel and ruin the moment for both of them, but had to settle for a brisk crawl towards the offensive line that the Namikaze siblings had established, a relatively few of the Laughing Coughers (I know what I said) recognizing their former leader's conspicuous assassin and dashing passed the pair of them and head off to finish the spearwielder once and for all, they knowing as well as he did that there were only minutes left before his legs grew back and he'd surely (Varen: Smite them all into tiny bits! In my mercy).
"He-hey guys!. Don't tell me you're all the kind who'd carry a grudge... heh..." Varen bantered in a tone suggesting nervous buffoonery, a hood or two already lifting their weapons up to swing down upon him. "Hang on a second!. Hang on now. You know... Some say that in someone's last moments, they show you who they really are..." His words thus far succeeded in staying their wrath for the time being, a grin growing as they surrounded him. "Now, with all of your friends I must have killed by now, Warchief included, you could say: I knew them better than any of you ever did... You want to know which of them were cowards?" Varen burst out in laughter, a sort of unsettled frenzied laughter that accompanied the scream of his first victim that saw his spear plunged deep into their stomach, Varen then lunging at him and tackling him to the ground, the first of many. Varen was only getting started. | Name:
Veran
Age:
20
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Personality:
Veran is very easygoing in most situations, sometimes to the point of aggravation for those around him. It is a characteristic that he seems to carry in most of his dealings, even his encounters with PKers. It’s not that he isn’t afraid of dying or killing; it’s more how he deals with stress along with most things in his life. His work ethic is a little lackluster, but he still manages to get the important things done. He’s come to view the deathgame as a survival experience and killing as unavoidable for anyone wishing to progress further in the game.
History:
The elder brother of two other siblings, Veran, as is his name in-game, not only had to take care of himself when it came to bullies and the like, but also looked after his younger brother and sister. Though commonly mocked by them for his laziness, they knew they could count on him. The same would be said of Veran’s friends and coworkers from the arcade his family owned, and where he worked during the time of the incident. Most of his friends staying in the earlier settlements and starting a new life, he probably would have stayed with them. But ultimately, and especially after the defeat of the Army, it’s his self reliant nature that keeps him from relying on others for rescue.
Equipment:
Intermediate Iron Spear: Well crafted, two-handed spear able to deliver focused heavy blows. Does moderate, additional piercing damage to opponent armor.
Medium Hunter Armor: Competent and balanced armor suited for close-ranged fighters, giving added protection against critical hits, lowering damage taken.
Flame Daybreak Spear: A deceptively simple weapon suited for either one or two handed use and, although yet to be fully upgraded, is capable of igniting its blade for added fiery damage. It is most effectively used with quick, successive slicing attacks in mind.
Sunset Emissary Armor: Advanced armor of exceptional protective potential and dark elemental resistance. There is a 15% chance per hit received of imparting the Darkness status effect that decreases the attacker's accuracy, making successful hits less likely.
Style:
Veran is a balanced player with a fair tendency towards defence and damage resistance, preferring to operate near the front lines. His attacks with a spear, though not as frequent as with a one handed sword, are heavier and more precise.
Skills:
Spear Sweep: A forceful spear art entailing a low swing that trips and stuns certain opponents.
Day Breaker: A special spear art granted by the Flame Daybreak Spear entailing a wide flaming attack that can either cause the status effect of fire or carries the chance to significantly damage the target's armor and weaponry, decreasing said equipment's effectiveness or even breaking them apart after enough successful hits by this skill.
Guild:
None |
46,452 | 1,260 | 37 | 1,686 | 474 | Send those hoods at me, and I will weaken it well enough for you to be exposed on multiple fronts. Turn your back away, and I will have a free hit. You can't move now, its game over for you, Argil.
Athel was on the defensive, carefully blocking each slashes from Argil, minimising the damage she's receiving. The situation is in the clearer's control by now, time is at their side. Rather than risking a battle with her archenemy, the optimal move is to stall for time, and its certain that the Laughing Coffin men would have been cleared out before her HP bar goes empty.
"So you're taking revenge for your dead friends by not attacking at all? Funny to think that you would dishonor your guild's post mortem wish, Athel the Butcher."
Argil continued his stream of slashes towards Athel, with that slight smirk at the situation in the face of his possible impending death. His hostile exchange of words is his last move he can make, and if Athel snaps, she dies. But if this doesn't work, the better option for him is to carve out his own gravestone.
Those words rang unease and disturbance to Athel, her nemesis is right in front of her, and ironically the way to win the battle is not to attack him with her own hands. She had tightened her grip on her axe, putting herself on a fine line between rationality and losing it. She maintained her defensive stance, clenching her teeth as she held against Argil's attacks, both verbal and physical.
"I will throw your sword down their graves, as an apology for my dear friends ~"
The inconclusive battle between Athel and Argil have given the clearers more than enough time to clear the stranded goons of the PKer guild. What's left, is the wall of men between the last Lieutenant and the clearers. Varen's legs have been regenerated by then.
"I'm not good at this, but it will be a 'siege'... We will work on 3 sides, and thinnen the wall of men from the outside, one by one, and once the numbers get weak enough, we'll storm in to kill the last Lieutenant."
Akemi commanded as the siblings positioned themselves on two opposite sides, facing the stationary wall of men as Akemi sent herself to the wall of men, signalling the start of this siege. Isamu followed up, adding on his efforts to trim down that last stand of the PKers. Slowly but surely, the acts of Akemi, Isamu and most probably Varen, would weaken that meat wall as each second passes.
"I don't have to take revenge now, because someone else would do it for me ~"
Athel let out a smile of relief as she let go of her defensive position and swang her axe diagonally down Argil's torso, as a familiar dagger jabbed down Argil's neck from behind. The last detachment of Argil's troop has mostly been cleared away as Akemi's red spear thrusted through the Lieutenant's mouth, reducing him into the last set of green petals in the Hog's Beach.
"We won, you all can rest in peace now, Asaka, Nao, Hayate, Isoko----"
Athel started limping towards the scattered body of Argil, picking up Argil's sword while muttering the real names of her late classmates. The battle has ended, it was an first and overwhelming victory for the clearers, thus every single member of the party are left with single digit HP.
"Those throwing knives from your dead friend doesn't do much damage, but I can finish the this mess from afar with that HP you all have~"
It was Willow, standing at a distance and holding up Enyo's throwing knife and the axe.
"But you all have spared my life, so I'm returning my favour, consider us even from now on. But try entering the range of those knives, and the Hog Beach will belong to the dead~ Next time we meet, only one of us will live to tell the tale."
Willow walked away from the scene without much regard.
Athel trickled down a cold sweat for a moment, she had forgotten about that initiate Willow. That explains why Willow wasn't with them just now. Finishing 4 people with less than 10 HP would be an easy job for anybody. But then, Athel was confused on why that girl have spared them. Still, letting loose a mere Initiate for a Warchief and fifty men from the damned PKers guild is well worth it. Now healing up with her potions, she watched Willow walking away as the sole PKer left from the Hog's Beach.
"This grinding spot is ours now, we can peacefully make Bacons."
Akemi sat on the beach, watching the small waves crashing on the shore, commenting with a sarcastic overtone. There will be a lot of things for her to do when she gets back, like getting her guild here & such. Now that a grinding spot is open, this could even the ground between the clearers and the PKers. | Name: Athel
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
Athel is a cold & detached person, she wouldn't feel anything if someone dies in front of her eyes. Thus, she have no problems in killing PKers. This was due to her countless exposure to bloodshed from the Guild war against the <<Laughing Coffin>> Guild. She would join any clearing parties against the PKer guild, seizing every opportunity to take them down despite whatever odds against her. She is determined to settle her scores for her dead classmates to rest in peace.
History: Athel was born in a poor but honest family, she worked hard in school so as to not disappoint her parents. She was rather popular & well-liked in highschool, so she received an expensive item like a Nervegear unit for her birthday present. She logged into the game along with her friends, joining her class' guild despite the situation of the MMORPG turning into a deathgame. Due to the harsh nature of the game and the immaturity of her classmates, her guild died by the time she reached 20F. She would then wander amongst clearing guilds, often being the sole survivor amidst clashes against the <<Laughing Coffin>> guild.
Equipment: Silent Axe - A weapon that does more damage when slashed at the tip.
Skills: She is a STR-focused player, she mostly takes the role of a Tank, fighting on the frontlines.
Apprehend - Athel can extend her axe to pull in her opponent, additionaly it reduces their movement speed & AGL for a few seconds.
Guild: - |
46,453 | 1,261 | 0 | 597 | 2,121 | The sun was out. It's rays poked through spotty clouds like golden fingers, bringing warmth to all that they touched. A light breeze rustled leaves, and gave a refreshing moment to those who disliked the warm air.
It was a beautiful day at Londro academy. The large and tree abundant hill it sat atop was full of life, as students and teachers alike moved about the courtyards and expansive staircase. It was the first day of the new year. Well, second day really. Yesterday new students had been orientated, and moved into their dorms. Today, the entire school system was to move about and mingle, hopefully making it easier for all freshmen to feel comfortable when the learning actually began.
A small figure stood atop one of the schools highest towers. She had small smile sprawled cross her lips, and a warm gaze emanating from her eyes. This was the headmistress. Looking no more than possibly 13 or 15 yet being (apparently) over a hundred years old, she was a mystery that everyone knew. A mother figure just as much of a commanding one she took care of her students, and her teachers. She stood silently up at windy heights, watching her children go here and there, talking and greeting each-other, some with familiarity, some with nervousness.
Down below, near the food stalls and information desks, a boy stretched his body out. Yawning with some added effort and looking at the place with some joyful eyes. This would be his second year here, and he couldn't wait to meet all the new kids. This was Elliot, a hunter to be, and someone who would, among others, be thrown into a wild situation, where all his skills and abilities, would be tested.
For now though, he would be eating a hot-dog alone. | Name:
Katherine Blackbern
Age:
17
Height:
Stands at around 5'8
Race:
She.....was human... Now a Kitsune (Small summary at the bottom)
Powers:
-Hardlight Generation-
You know that awesome energy blade like thing from Mass Effect? Ya know, this one? Yeah, that one. It's the best way I could really describe the offensive form of this power. She can not only manipulate her new found energy into that melee weapon focused form, but also create a small personal shield with it that usually appear directly at the spot wear the physical threat will make contact in order to be more efficient with her energy. However, seeing how this new secret world is all very new to the poor girl, she barley knows how to generate said protection, let alone weaponize it to its full potential.
-Animal Traits-
No, those ears and tail aren't just for show! In fact, they represent a larger underlying animal capabilities. She's very fast and nimble, much more than your average human, and has senses of that of a dog. Something that she hasn't really gotten used to yet....
Weapons:
None to really speak of right now.
Personality:
Skeptical. The rest will be revealed.
Other:
While dynamically revealing a characters past and.... well... character through the IC of a roleplay is one of my favorites, there is a need of an explanation of sorts. You see, to vaguely give some summary, she was a normal human girl, well at least physically, before a traumatizing, life threatening event propelled her (so to speak) into this new hidden world of fantasy creatures. She's very new to all of this, and was sent to this academy to help....ease her into her new found lease on life. |
46,454 | 1,261 | 1 | 2,373 | 93 | Orion sat comfortable near one of the food stalls. silently he sipped a drink as he watched everyone coming and going. it was no real surprise to him that he found himself on edge. He was never fond of crowds yet someone always found himself around them. With his wings tucked close to his back it would take some real close inspection to see them. he kept them this way to keep from bumping into people. That and it also kept most eyes off him. some of the people he had already had classes with might notice him, or recognize him. but these new students, still had the curse of curiousity. they asked far too many questions, all of which are usually answered day one of class. He took another sip of his drink and scanned round one more time this time looking for familiar faces, to see who he could see | Name: Darren Kent
Age: 18
Weight/height: 1.80m (or for you Americans - 5'9") 70kg (For the love of god start using the metric system! - 154lb)
Race: Human
Powers:
Chameleon - Darren has the power to blend into his surroundings, and become almost invisible when static, although he can only stay this way for short periods of time because he tires quickly.
Silent maneuvers - Darren has the ability to draw upon his inner strength in order to walk and move in an almost silent fashion. He can keep it up only for short amount of times for the same reason as before.
Weapons:
For long range shots Darren uses a McMillan TAC 308 Sniper Rifle:
For close range shots Darren uses The Ambassador:
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jbykRg2BZDq5OqjifbnEFoZGWxkimlrapooF1XdD23A0sLjv2ktByDu7NeExkG7+LIaDj1Lr8gqmMcNc3jNFzjqTRNA6AaZj0203VRl95mJJOZpboSD4i8l0jr2OYlpJG9dNKYnE5W0TkGU6ON7NadPMXt1HIqBeAABsBQ9ljyEk6E26gG6VeoF2Oo8tvWgy53BoJcWtqjqXa76DloHH4tfqtZiJC43sBo0fh1FkjkdHew6lWYkZdMwLtPEHE8/avYDZVRtvoLJJOgGvMkfTcEdUDDwKNWaGU+EtBvUuo1V6UbFclCRwB0I0FkC6BJAyt86vn5KriHF4wMocZNPFluifwlxAsexrzK0s/EXu0FNFVTQLrqdyUVv48dHFec0eQ3cfQLVY3jGYnu21Z+J2/yC1SKTESllLjbjZUE6RSoSE6RSBK/CYh0b2vYaexwc0+nn05HoVTSKQbHFcNMjwYRUc9uZZ8MZ+/G4+bSflR5qvifDnMLGFw7qNtF4vK0k2867uJ5dAOSqwuNlisRvcwO+IAnK48iRtfVVTSuebe4uPmSSpn7UpHlziQKvRo5AAU0ewACxMXo0/JZCllBaQda1H9f10VRrIXUQd6191nYWS/19FiYiPKdNjy8ipRWDY/36Fc7w93j3z22sh0tYrf6rMY4OZ6hYfMrlxT9z2edSPoxJoQhel8Vkt2QhuyFBVLuoUrJN1BFKk6QhAUlSadII0ikO0Uc6DKwwDrYa1+EnYHqsrhvDnYeQS1lcCCwWDqCDenoPmtWJCNluI8Xna0826FSV9OtxENOuPUZg9uwoPrY/QeyqlzggOd8IBJIq6OYjK866VsPu3VqPDMZmia065SWE700gltjy3b8vMlVuxGpac1DYAMr13AI039CkovdKCaBaKGmt6aDR2QEb7HTbVTMN/Ac2gLjmYAL/AC1mA6GlVhYs+oYGjlZDgfzZSHaann8liY/GQw6Odbgby7kncaDQ6nevkiMmYtBDQaugSToTevIaAjn9atYeIDdXOeI2DQF5aDry03Nclo8Xx17jcYyVs4hpI9BsPqtXNK55t7i93m4kn6qrjf4zjsQP+EHSENrNJo32F2R8lp8VxB8vxuJHJuzR6BYtJUgl3iWcopPIUEcxSVndFHdlDEA4ozlS7sp92UMAennCXdpFiCdhNVUpZSgnSFXmKedBNNnP90/yUA9N7vCfYfM/6IMXFmwOhSw23o4V86/uoTnYe6vw7dPTU+vJZu9fjQyITQI8j9Cq4zdn9frZUvsb6A8uZ/0WTG2hrvz9Vike9dfJ5fxxQUilJBXV8/FzdkIZshEQeNUqTduko1AoIQikU0kAJoEQoFgU0iEFRYpwSlhvlsR5hPKgR2qmN1w7Hhpu/A4USN2+R6EGldLxmMeIjO8/caDV+ZN5R6+IrV4fCA7/AO/+im/Cg7X6+fXRTT4ljuMzSjLeRn4Gl2vqSf5UOi1wjWY7BeR9v7Kl0BCauKu66piIJ5E8iBd2E8qMiK6oGikUhAUik0IFSEUikAikUikBSEqRSBqJARlRkQQc0JEae/8AdT7tAiQa+c0/0A/qpMmI+E/RZrsODumMOOVKTGulOSa9MeBoJt2p/W6ywoiJTAVYtabTsiknDRO0nHREWN2QhuyFWESNUqUq1KeVRuEEKdIpFQRSmkgihSpFIIq2Aa9AohqmNApJDLziv5qIffT9bKhhVjXKKsry/wB0HqN/NVtlUu8QD4AR+tFTJhCFMv5KyM6IMEspRpbTKDuLVEkA5aK6mMNCyHQEKsppiuk6UkiFRGk9EUnSISLTpJArRadJhpQQtFqVIpAk2hOlLLQUVXSamEwEWFSFcWqJamkwgEnbKeVJw0PoqybdkIZshVg27lSUW7lNSW46CKTClSio5UZVOkZUEKQpEICCICsLr3CSYCigNSNqVKBCBFyYcp2oEBBJrlK1XSLTBY2QhNzlUVJMVcHeaO7aeiqRmUCdAqywq8PUs/mrqMSkwFkFoKjkpXTFRYo5VkpUppipkfnsmXnlopvPyUURE9fmo0raSLQqqANIq91IsSyogyopFIzI1pEJKVpoyiCh+x9FKlF40PoggzZCGbIWnMB26C5CFJbjos5T7woQgYeU85TQoozFRzJoQMPKM5QhA85SLyhCiod4VLOUIVQu8KC8poQQzJiQoQgecpZyhCAzlPvChCAEhSdIUIQPvCpd6UISSBnKRchCkKQeUi8poVQw8p50IQLOVEuTQgRclnKEKgzlBea9kIRAzZCEKsP/2Q==
Personality:
Intelligent, calm and collected. Darren is a loner, preferring to hunt alone with his sniper rifle, and is not much of a team player. Possesses a dark sense of humor which most people seem to find disturbing and creepy. Is not frightened easily, and is always aware of his surroundings. Darren may seem at times emotionless, but is genuinely a good person.
Other: Let me know if I made him a bit OP :D |
46,455 | 1,261 | 2 | 2,362 | 1,688 | It was the second day of school. The day that Kiba hated the most. And this was the third time he had been forced to endure it. All those people wandering around, old and new faces alike. Though he was used to only having one eye, there was still that blind spot on his right side that made it hard to navigate through large crowds like this. He had learned ways around it, but it still wasn't easy. He hated large groups of people like this, they made him very uncomfortable. If you paid enough attention to him, you would notice how tense his shoulders were. His goal was to walk around for a little while like they were supposed to, then get the hell back to his nice comfy dorm room. So he could do something nice, quiet, and alone, like read a book. Books don't stare at the medical eye patch on your right eye and ask questions about it.
He didn't even know why he was out here, it wasn't like he was actually going to talk to anybody. Socializing just wasn't his thing. But he was in it now and the dorms were in the opposite direction of the crowd. So as he walked by them, he slipped out of the crowd and to the food stalls. He was kind of in the mood for something sweet anyway. Taking out his wallet, he approached the stall that sold smoothies and ordered a strawberry banana one. After waiting for his drink he took a seat near the one of the other students, he remembered his name being Orion. Last year they had been in a class together so that was how he knew. After giving the winged student a nod he pulled a book out of his bag and proceeded to shut out the world. | Name: Humhum Highvoice
Age: 20
Weight/height: 52 kg 175 cm
Race: A Male Harpy
Powers: Voice magic: Most of his clan has this type of magic. Humhum can sing lullabies, enchanting songs, while with age they can develop the possibility to captures enemies into a illusion world alike.Making the target lose the sense to reality, making them a extremely easy target. Weakness to this magic are ear plugs. If you dont hear the songs not even the firs tone then they do not effect you.
For that situation there are sharp claws, strong and sharp feathers which can at times be used liked knifes, beside the claws.
Another way is plain screeching that can work as vibration/shock wave that can rip and damage on cellular level the opponent. But Humhum is still too young for doing that. If he did he may be left with out a voice for a day or two.
Weapons: None really his body and voice is the weapon.
Personality: He is outgoing, curious. At times lost at words, loves to hum. Playfully. Will be built out more in the IC.
Other: Well Humhum comes from a clan of Harpy that value loyalty and love. Cheating results in a bloody mess. Most of the ones who made a contact in his clan were all asking in trade off for love and brushing.
And humhum adores to have his hair brushed by someone. When it comes to food, he is a fish consumer. |
46,456 | 1,261 | 3 | 597 | 2,121 | Elliot munched on his meal. His eyes looking around curiously as he did. So many faces, so many known and so many mysteries. He saw the two not far down the way. Kiba? He thought that's what their name was. He wasn't completely sure, they barely spoke after all...Not far next to him was...Uh. Okay he blanked on their name. Something with an "O" he thought though... He tossed up trying to go and start some conversation, Elliot was feeling a little left out after all...
Just as he was to pick up his paper plate and head over a shadow eclipsed him. Looking up to see a winged figure soaring down towards him. He shoved a couple plates that weren't currently being watched and watched with a large grin as the boy hit the table. A stray feather flew by his face, taking note to not let it spoil his food he looked up to it's previous owner.
"Couple opens spots." He said with his mouth a bit hushed. It was rude to speak while your mouth was full...
"Two right over there." He said after swallowing his chew, gesturing with the plate to two spots directly across from the others he had recognized. Maybe he could start a little conversation. It would do just fine until he found his friend. Not that he couldn't guess where he was, a certain tree somewhere was probably more full than usual.
"Shall we?" Elliot smiled as he stood to change his spot. | Name:
Katherine Blackbern
Age:
17
Height:
Stands at around 5'8
Race:
She.....was human... Now a Kitsune (Small summary at the bottom)
Powers:
-Hardlight Generation-
You know that awesome energy blade like thing from Mass Effect? Ya know, this one? Yeah, that one. It's the best way I could really describe the offensive form of this power. She can not only manipulate her new found energy into that melee weapon focused form, but also create a small personal shield with it that usually appear directly at the spot wear the physical threat will make contact in order to be more efficient with her energy. However, seeing how this new secret world is all very new to the poor girl, she barley knows how to generate said protection, let alone weaponize it to its full potential.
-Animal Traits-
No, those ears and tail aren't just for show! In fact, they represent a larger underlying animal capabilities. She's very fast and nimble, much more than your average human, and has senses of that of a dog. Something that she hasn't really gotten used to yet....
Weapons:
None to really speak of right now.
Personality:
Skeptical. The rest will be revealed.
Other:
While dynamically revealing a characters past and.... well... character through the IC of a roleplay is one of my favorites, there is a need of an explanation of sorts. You see, to vaguely give some summary, she was a normal human girl, well at least physically, before a traumatizing, life threatening event propelled her (so to speak) into this new hidden world of fantasy creatures. She's very new to all of this, and was sent to this academy to help....ease her into her new found lease on life. |
46,457 | 1,261 | 4 | 1,297 | 161 | Orion notice a former classmate as he scanned the crowd. Kiba, decent dude. He rose his cup in greeting and went back to sipping from it. A few other faces stuck out here and there but some were easier to remembers. The graceful landing of another student caught his attention, so he watched as the harpy exchanged words with another student casually. The good thing about this school, he noted, is that despite all the species here most people kept their biases to themselves. while at the same time most people kept their backgounds to themselves as well. The students were coming in his direction, he noticed, but when they got a little closer he recognized Elliot. a simple name to remember thankfully, but Orion was good with names, after the first week or so. | Name:
Rachel Yuzuri
Age:
16
Weight/height:
Roughly about 5' 7", weighing around 118 lbs.
Race:
Human
Powers:
-Spellcasting, Implement Trigger-
Rachel's ability to remember and cast complex magic formulas is shaky at best, now throw her in the middle of a battlefield and then she has no chance. To cope with this she devised her unique method of spellcasting. She can inscribe spells onto physical objects, when she performs a designated physical action with said object that acts as a trigger to cast the spell. She can only inscribe one spell per object, the action has to involve touching the object in some way, and she has to inscribe the spell to the object beforehand, she can't do it in the middle of a battle as it takes a large amount of focus. The spells can only be cast by her, even if someone else knew the trigger action the spells are bound to her and the object. The spells are bound to the objects forever and can be cast multiple times, unless she removes the spells herself. Also, all the objects she inscribes spells into have physical markings and symbols on them.
Weapons:
-Blue Rose & Red Iris-
Dual silver and black revolvers, aside from being somewhat large and each one having various markings drawn on them they don't look very special. However, her revolvers are her primary weapons. She has inscribed spells into each of them that are cast when she pulls the trigger. They each fire pure magical energy out of the barrel once the trigger is pulled. Since for her they are only an implement to cast magic they are unloaded, and she doesn't carry any bullets. (They both look something like this.)
Personality:
Rachel is hardworking, honest, and brave. She always tries her best. However, she can also be somewhat brash, tactless and oblivious at times. Not very much of a details person, she prefers decisive action to careful planning. This especially shows when she's fighting. In battle, she's aggressive and reckless.
Other:
Rachel fights close range with martial arts, didn't see anywhere on the sheet to mention that.
-Gloves-
Her gloves are inscribed with a spell that temporarily makes her stronger. The spell is triggered by the cliche of punching her fist into her open palm. She almost always uses this spell before she fights. Her hands gain a red aura well the spell is active.
-Belt cloth-
The cloth around her waist is inscribed with a spell that temporarily makes her faster, and allows her to jump higher. The trigger is when she takes both of her hands and flairs the coat outward behind her. Her feet gain a green aura when the spell is active.
-Chestguard-
The metal plate she wears is inscribed with a spell that temporarily lets her absorb the damage from her enemies attacks and use it to make herself stronger. She still gets hit as normal, but each hit makes her stronger. However, after the spell runs out she'll be exhausted. It is triggered by her banging her clenched fist into the chestpiece. She gains a blue aura when the spell is active.
Notes:
This will be updated throughout the RP as it is my intention for her to get new weapons and form new spells as things go on.
And here's the finished sheet and spell list. All of her starting spells are self buffs to augment her in combat. |
46,458 | 1,261 | 5 | 684 | 124 | Andrew gave a wary glance from around the corner of the building, looking for any sign of his uncle out in the school courtyard. He had managed to avoid the man for the last day or so, using the fact that Uncle Lionel actually had a job as a teacher here in order to move get around from place to place, and hiding in places he wouldn't think of. The magic lessons Andrew's uncle had been giving him were slowly getting worse and worse. As the lessons designed for beginners did little to help Andrew further his magical talent over the past year, his uncle seemed convinced that putting Andrew under pressure would help 'unlock his hidden potential' or something like that. 'Putting him under pressure', seemed to involve throwing him into life threatening situations, which is something he'd like avoid if at all possible. Honestly, Andrew had no idea why Uncle Lionel didn't just give up on him. He figured that it was possibly because Lionel hated being wrong, couldn't bear to believe that Andrew wasn't going to be the next super-mega-wizard-archmage, or whatever the hell the man seemed to think he had the magical talent for, but that was all just guesswork on Andrew's part.
Seeing that the way was all clear, Andrew gave a quiet sigh of relief and began to make his way off campus. Of course, the familiar voice of his uncle calling out from off to the side showed that it was, in fact, not clear at all. "And just where do you think you're going, young man?"
Andrew cringed, and turned around slowly to face Lionel. If he had to describe Lionel in only a few words, they'd be 'stereotypical fantasy wizard', if a stereotypical fantasy wizard liked to wear a gray suit instead of a robe and pointed wizard's hat. With a long mane of silver hair that really didn't look like something that someone with whitening hair should be growing, and a wispy beard to match, if you threw Lionel into a bathrobe, he might've been easily mistaken for Gandalf the Grey. Hell, Andrew wasn't actually too sure how old Uncle Lionel was, but last he heard, the man shouldn't have been old enough to have just about every hair on his body be white. Maybe he dyed it or something. Andrew wouldn't put it past the man. He gave a sigh, and greeted Lionel. "Heeeeey there, uncle... I'm, just uh... You know... Headed to my college class? They started a while back, remember?"
"College?" was the curt and eloquent response his uncle gave back, paired with a bit of a blank and confused look on his face.
"Yea... You know... College? A place of higher learning? That thing I've been going to ever since I got out of high school for like, a year now?" Andrew asked back, unbelieving that the man could not know what college was.
"Ohhh, right! That thing!" Lionel said, quickly dismissing the topic. "Ahhh, forget about that! We have things to teach you!"
"No, no, no, no, look I gotta make it to class and-"
"Alright, that's enough out of you, Andrew!" Lionel quickly says, cutting him off. Then with a wave of his hands, Andrew soon found himself slowly slipping off the ground, floating up a few feet. "Come on! We've got magic to do!" Lionel cried out as he walked off back towards the main school building.
Andrew tried to struggle, 'tried' being the keyword, flailing his limbs as he slowly floated along behind him. In desperation, he pulled out his staff, expanding it to its full length and stabbing it into the ground, hoping to root himself there, though all he ended up doing was dig up the dirty and grass in a line behind him. "Dammit, uncle! I have a test today!"
"Damn right, you do!" Andrew's uncle said triumphantly, uncaring about Andrew's plight. "Today, we're seeing how much you remember about defensive spells! Come on, I've got a whole range set up for us today! The students'll be testing out their aim, and you're the target!" | Name: Orion
Age: 17
Race: half angel half demon
Weight/height: 5’8. 130lbs
Power: flight obviously. But because of his mixed blood his other natural abilities cancel each other out. However he maintains both’s aptitude for the mystic arts. He can manipulate mystic energy into solid constructs however he is severely limited. He can make really good small things, like a dozen butterfly’s but the biggest thing he can make on his own is a pair of daggers.
Weapon:
Personality: Loyal and distrusting. I know those two don’t normally go together but basically he tolerates people because he is drawn to them. But doesn't trust them. He will watch someone’s back faithfully but has a hard time believing someone would do the same for him.
Other: if the academy offers magic courses he is in desperate need of it. He has no formal training so he can only do his construct thing |
46,459 | 1,261 | 6 | 1,387 | 500 | Kiba sighed and put his book away as several more people joined him and Orion at their table. He had chosen this spot in hopes to be left alone, but it didn't seem to be the case this time. He gave the winged student an apologetic glance, remembering that he wasn't the most social student either. The human ran his fingers through his messy red locks and took another sip of his smoothie. Mostly so he didn't have to say anything to the two newcomers. He racked his brain for their names. The harpy he knew was Humhum, there weren't too many harpies at the school so it was easy to remember his name. The other one he believed was Elliot. Names were easy for him to remember so he was almost certain he had gotten those right. Though he had been wrong before.
As another student walked up, a girl he had never met before, Kiba grew tense again. Four people all around him like wasn't exactly comfortable for him. When she asked if there was room at the table, he just shrugged as if he didn't care whether she was there or not. Though he actually did. While he pretended to be focused on his nearly finished smoothie he was actually keeping an ear open to store away any information the new girl, or anybody, gave to the others. It would doubtful that he would join in on the conversation much, but he would definitely be listening. | Name: Brandon Clark
Appearance: Brandon is a tall, well built individual standing around 6'1". He has shaggy, unkempt black hair and ice blue eyes. He wears a black trench-coat with gold accents, and a plain white badge that has a red crucifix on it sewn into the left bicep. Aside from his coat he wears a plain white button up shirt with a black vest, pants, and shoes.
Forget the Katana and cigarette and this is pretty close.
Age: 19
Weight/height: See Appearance
Race: Human
Powers: Brandon has extensive training in light based magics, particularly with the Holy affinity. As such his spells are mainly used defensively, though he does have a few offensive ones.
Weapons:
An ornate, Silver Sword blessed by the Holy Catholic Church. Baptized in holy water and the sacred blood of Angels. Especially effective against Demons and the undead.
An armored bracer that folds out into a fully functional Heater Shield, it's design is the same that's on his badge, plain white with a crimson cross. It has a variety of uses, it can be thrown and withdrawn through the use of a thin, highly durable cable attached to a small pulley. It is also highly durable, even able to withstand dragon fire if need be. More functions will likely be added throughout the RP.
Personality: Brandon is headstrong and confident, cynical and stubborn, yet courageous and stalwart. He's the type of guy who stands up for what he believes in and isn't afraid of the consequences. Yet he's not hard-headed, nor is he zealous. Despite being headstrong, stubborn and blunt to a fault Brandon knows when to keep his mouth shut. He's ultimately a pious person at heart, though he hates the bureaucracy and the corruption in the church, so he's adopted a slightly different view on theology then his superiors.
Other: Brandon is a member of the resurrected Knights Templar. Though they historically served as an army in the Crusades, the modern day incarnation has a much different purpose. As Brandon himself would say, "I'm no priest. In fact, if a priest is a shepherd, then I'm the dog he uses to coral his flock." |
46,460 | 1,261 | 7 | 2,362 | 1,688 | Humhum folded his feathers along his arms. Stepping off the table and nodding at Elliot. Looking towards the two places that were pointed by the other. Recognizing the students that were sitting on that table, to Humhum most people were in category of nice. So were this two too.
''Good idea, Elliot, let me first just grab some fish mhm I am going to starve, then lets join them.'' He nodded, not wanting to let anyone wait he slipped between the crowds to the stand, getting two grilled fish. The smell alone was making his mount water. Not just assaulting on the fish, as his stomach demanded, the harpy slipped as fast back to Elliot, before they were going over to the next table a girl approached them.
"Hey, there a free spot over here?"
Humhum bowed his head, bending his knee a bit towards her.If he didnt hold a plate he would have took her hand and shack it in greeting. He was sure he didnt know her from previous years, concluding she must be new. '' Well mmm to speak the true we were about to join that table, feel free to tug along mmm '' He nodded, sitting beside Orion once they arrived on the table. Biting in his fish, hapily to calm his stomach, he looked over the faces.
''You must be uncomfortable like that no Orion? Want to stretch them later with a fly around the circle. '' Humhum asked noticing how the other folded the wings up. Wondering to himself why he was like that, nearly hiding his wings out of view. Humhum found them to be a really nice color, in his mind those wings should be showed off. He ate a few more bites, listening and nodding. Eyes trailing to the new student.
'' You must be amazed by how many different students are around here? My name is Humhum mmmm mhm'' He chuckled now offering officially a hand to great her.
'' Are you finding your way around here nicely? If you have any question, ask them mm someone may know the answers mhm~'' He hummed before he started his second and last fish. Hoping the girl will relax and tell about herself maybe. He like knowing lots of peoples, and enjoying hearing some of the stories they may tell. | Name: Humhum Highvoice
Age: 20
Weight/height: 52 kg 175 cm
Race: A Male Harpy
Powers: Voice magic: Most of his clan has this type of magic. Humhum can sing lullabies, enchanting songs, while with age they can develop the possibility to captures enemies into a illusion world alike.Making the target lose the sense to reality, making them a extremely easy target. Weakness to this magic are ear plugs. If you dont hear the songs not even the firs tone then they do not effect you.
For that situation there are sharp claws, strong and sharp feathers which can at times be used liked knifes, beside the claws.
Another way is plain screeching that can work as vibration/shock wave that can rip and damage on cellular level the opponent. But Humhum is still too young for doing that. If he did he may be left with out a voice for a day or two.
Weapons: None really his body and voice is the weapon.
Personality: He is outgoing, curious. At times lost at words, loves to hum. Playfully. Will be built out more in the IC.
Other: Well Humhum comes from a clan of Harpy that value loyalty and love. Cheating results in a bloody mess. Most of the ones who made a contact in his clan were all asking in trade off for love and brushing.
And humhum adores to have his hair brushed by someone. When it comes to food, he is a fish consumer. |
46,461 | 1,261 | 8 | 2,373 | 93 | Katherine was dressed in her normal attire. A dark green hoodie over a long sleeve black shirt, a short skirt with black leggings and wearing dark green athletic shoes. Around her neck she wore her father's combat goggles and on her head an old brown hat. Only this time there was something a little different. Her hat now had two holes for her new long, golden fox ears and a long, fluffy tail poked out of her rear end. This new look was something that Katherine was still getting used to, something that made her incredibly uncomfortable about her appearance. "I feel like a god damn cosplayer or something...." She thought as she arrived at her new found school.
Much to her surprise, the school grounds looked like a anime convention. Even the normal kids walked around with weaponry like it was their band instrument. It seemed that there was a few stalls set up for serving food and the day hadn't really begun, so, taking a deep breath, Katherine walked into the school courtyard, looking around the place. Suddenly she heard something.
"Alright, that's enough out of you, Andrew!" A well dressed middle aged man walked down the path way opposite to her. A guy, seemingly a little older than her, was levitating behind him, obivously very unhappy about the situation as he attempted to slow the progress by stabbing his staff in the ground.
"Dammit, uncle! I have a test today!" Andrew said
"Damn right, you do!" Andrew's uncle said triumphantly, uncaring about Andrew's plight. "Today, we're seeing how much you remember about defensive spells! Come on, I've got a whole range set up for us today! The students'll be testing out their aim, and you're the target!"
"Oh boy...." Katherine thought as she watched them. Remembering what her one dad was like, she gave a big sigh and quickly rushed up towards them. Giving off the look of someone who had been running around all day she approached Andrew and his uncle. "Ahhh ahhh, There you are Andrew! I've been looking all over for you! The food stalls are getting a bit more traffic than expected. I guess all the new kids are hungry? I don't know, but we need your help back at the stall. Those burgers aren't going to magically flip themse-" she paused and looked over at the man that kept him levitating. "Oh! Sorry, if I'm interrupting something sir! Truly am. It's just I've been looking all over for Andrew here. Ya know your nephew here is a really swell guy, volunteering to help with his magical capabilities. He's got a lot of potential I tell ya. No wonder you two are related! Sorry, but do you mind if he comes and helps us out here for a little while? We're under a lot of pressure as it is and with him on board we can take on even more." she said, giving a friendly smile, trying her best not to break character and hoped that this Andrew guy will play along. | Name: Darren Kent
Age: 18
Weight/height: 1.80m (or for you Americans - 5'9") 70kg (For the love of god start using the metric system! - 154lb)
Race: Human
Powers:
Chameleon - Darren has the power to blend into his surroundings, and become almost invisible when static, although he can only stay this way for short periods of time because he tires quickly.
Silent maneuvers - Darren has the ability to draw upon his inner strength in order to walk and move in an almost silent fashion. He can keep it up only for short amount of times for the same reason as before.
Weapons:
For long range shots Darren uses a McMillan TAC 308 Sniper Rifle:
For close range shots Darren uses The Ambassador:
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
Personality:
Intelligent, calm and collected. Darren is a loner, preferring to hunt alone with his sniper rifle, and is not much of a team player. Possesses a dark sense of humor which most people seem to find disturbing and creepy. Is not frightened easily, and is always aware of his surroundings. Darren may seem at times emotionless, but is genuinely a good person.
Other: Let me know if I made him a bit OP :D |
46,462 | 1,261 | 9 | 1,297 | 161 | Rachel looked around the table, completely silent. Umm, maybe it's because I'm a human? Or maybe I just picked a particularly tight knit group? She thought to herself before the winged man finally broke the silence. He bowed his head, and gestured to a nearby table saying they were moving over to it. "Ah okay." She nodded and followed the group to the other table.
Rachel took a seat near the end of the table, right across from the one with the medical bandage over one of his eyes. She couldn't help but look over to the winged student as he discussed flying with another student. Though, she didn't quite see the wings on the other student. I'll bet that's pretty awesome, having the ability to take off whenever you want... She was pulled from her musings once again by the winged student who proceeded to introduce himself as Humhum. "Oh, thanks! I think I'm doing alright." She smiled to him as she shook his hand. "Um, right yeah, guess I forgot to introduce myself." She scratched her head, she had completely spaced introductions. Looking out to the rest of the table, "My name's Rachel Yuzuri!", she proclaimed just loud enough to be heard by everyone at the table. | Name:
Rachel Yuzuri
Age:
16
Weight/height:
Roughly about 5' 7", weighing around 118 lbs.
Race:
Human
Powers:
-Spellcasting, Implement Trigger-
Rachel's ability to remember and cast complex magic formulas is shaky at best, now throw her in the middle of a battlefield and then she has no chance. To cope with this she devised her unique method of spellcasting. She can inscribe spells onto physical objects, when she performs a designated physical action with said object that acts as a trigger to cast the spell. She can only inscribe one spell per object, the action has to involve touching the object in some way, and she has to inscribe the spell to the object beforehand, she can't do it in the middle of a battle as it takes a large amount of focus. The spells can only be cast by her, even if someone else knew the trigger action the spells are bound to her and the object. The spells are bound to the objects forever and can be cast multiple times, unless she removes the spells herself. Also, all the objects she inscribes spells into have physical markings and symbols on them.
Weapons:
-Blue Rose & Red Iris-
Dual silver and black revolvers, aside from being somewhat large and each one having various markings drawn on them they don't look very special. However, her revolvers are her primary weapons. She has inscribed spells into each of them that are cast when she pulls the trigger. They each fire pure magical energy out of the barrel once the trigger is pulled. Since for her they are only an implement to cast magic they are unloaded, and she doesn't carry any bullets. (They both look something like this.)
Personality:
Rachel is hardworking, honest, and brave. She always tries her best. However, she can also be somewhat brash, tactless and oblivious at times. Not very much of a details person, she prefers decisive action to careful planning. This especially shows when she's fighting. In battle, she's aggressive and reckless.
Other:
Rachel fights close range with martial arts, didn't see anywhere on the sheet to mention that.
-Gloves-
Her gloves are inscribed with a spell that temporarily makes her stronger. The spell is triggered by the cliche of punching her fist into her open palm. She almost always uses this spell before she fights. Her hands gain a red aura well the spell is active.
-Belt cloth-
The cloth around her waist is inscribed with a spell that temporarily makes her faster, and allows her to jump higher. The trigger is when she takes both of her hands and flairs the coat outward behind her. Her feet gain a green aura when the spell is active.
-Chestguard-
The metal plate she wears is inscribed with a spell that temporarily lets her absorb the damage from her enemies attacks and use it to make herself stronger. She still gets hit as normal, but each hit makes her stronger. However, after the spell runs out she'll be exhausted. It is triggered by her banging her clenched fist into the chestpiece. She gains a blue aura when the spell is active.
Notes:
This will be updated throughout the RP as it is my intention for her to get new weapons and form new spells as things go on.
And here's the finished sheet and spell list. All of her starting spells are self buffs to augment her in combat. |
46,463 | 1,261 | 10 | 2,362 | 1,688 | rachel Yuzuri, It's nice to meet you. Orion nodded "my name is Orion. This is Kiba. dont mind him too much, he isn't a talker. " HE introduced kiba since he figured he wouldnt talk. Orion was pretty sure he hadnt said a word since he arrived, just some nods and shared glances. But it was fine, at least Orion understood. Luckily with the new girl at the table she would soak up all the warm and fuzzy attention. Orion sipped his drink once more secretly devising a plan to get out of the inevitable conversation and away from the wonderful people. There were some events planed by the academy for the students however all of them were social events. Most of them were for incoming students to get them further acclimated to the grounds so it didnt really apply to him. However he had a backup plan. throughout his life he learned to always have a back up plan. He just needed to wait, and feign interest until it kicked in. so he took another sip. | Name: Humhum Highvoice
Age: 20
Weight/height: 52 kg 175 cm
Race: A Male Harpy
Powers: Voice magic: Most of his clan has this type of magic. Humhum can sing lullabies, enchanting songs, while with age they can develop the possibility to captures enemies into a illusion world alike.Making the target lose the sense to reality, making them a extremely easy target. Weakness to this magic are ear plugs. If you dont hear the songs not even the firs tone then they do not effect you.
For that situation there are sharp claws, strong and sharp feathers which can at times be used liked knifes, beside the claws.
Another way is plain screeching that can work as vibration/shock wave that can rip and damage on cellular level the opponent. But Humhum is still too young for doing that. If he did he may be left with out a voice for a day or two.
Weapons: None really his body and voice is the weapon.
Personality: He is outgoing, curious. At times lost at words, loves to hum. Playfully. Will be built out more in the IC.
Other: Well Humhum comes from a clan of Harpy that value loyalty and love. Cheating results in a bloody mess. Most of the ones who made a contact in his clan were all asking in trade off for love and brushing.
And humhum adores to have his hair brushed by someone. When it comes to food, he is a fish consumer. |
46,464 | 1,262 | 0 | 1,550 | 123 | The sun crept over the horizon to the east of the village which Daha called home, and through the gaps in the shutters of his window. He blinked a couple of times to remove the sleep from his eyes, and sat up with a stretch. Though he was only just awaking, he could detect the sounds of movement in the rest of the village outside, voices, the creak of wooden wheels, the clang of metal. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and pulled on a slightly dirty once white cloth shirt that he had worn yesterday for work. He rolls his neck, feeling the satisfying crack as he did so, and pulled on his brown breeches, before going through into the main room of the three room house. Matia was already in the kitchen as she was every morning when he awoke, her bed in the room they shared was made and neat, and a cut loaf of bread already sat on the table, whilst his sister spooned a bowl of soup for him and placed it down.
"Thanks." Daha grunted, slumping into one of the two chairs. Their parents would already be gone, their father having left an hour or so before dawn, to make it to the river by time the sun started to creep over the edge of the world and their mother undoubtedly in the forest hunting for herbs and berries for her remedies. He took a clump of the cut loaf on the table before him, and dunked it into the bland soup, which had a few vegetables floating in it.
Sitting down opposite to him, Matia had her own bowl and took her own slice of the bread, dipping it into her soup with more graceful ceremony with her brother. "Did you sleep okay..?" She asks after a few moments of silence, disturbed only by the sounds of them eating.
"What do you mean? I think so..."
"You were whispering in your sleep again. You seemed upset and angry..." Tia frowns as she looks at him, furrowing her brows as she does so, "I got up to come wake you, and you stopped before I reached you, so I went back to bed."
Daha shrugs, and continues eating. "I don't really remember." He says after a few more mouthfuls, and Tia acepts his answer, returning to her own food. The large man finishes his breakfast first, and gets to his feet, taking his bowl over to the two buckets of water on the side that his sister had fetched from the well before making breakfast. He cleans the wooden bowl in the first pail, and then splashes water on his face from the second, the cold chill waking him up more than the food had.
He heard his sister push back her chair, and get to her feet behind him, and turned just in time to catch her by the back of her shirt as she tripped towards him. "Careful." He warned, pulling her back up. His sister looked at him in confusion for a couple of seconds, but then Daha walks towards the door, so she shrugged and got on with washing her bowl and cleaning up after dinner.
Daha made his way towards the forest, where the woodcutter lived in a small hut alone. The woodcutter was an old man, named Piot, who found it difficult to swing the axe these days due to his joints, but still had the strength in him to carry and shift the logs his apprentice chopped. The dark haired youth woke his employer with a bang on the door, and then began to chop the logs in the yard out the front of the hut, using the axe leaning against the walls. It was about fifteen minutes later that Piot emerged from his hut, nodding groggily at his apprentice, and together they went to work.
They worked in the shade of the forest for most of the day, moving back and forth between the hut, dragging logs they had downed, and Daha chopping them in the yard, whilst Piot stacked them all. At the end of the day, one of the village's few merchants would arrive with his horse and cart, and they would load it into the cart, so he could sell them to the rest of the village. The sun passed overhead through the day, until it touched the tips of the mountains to the distance in the west. It was then that they heard the familiar sound of hooves on the track, dragging along wooden wheels. Today though, unlike the days before, Daha felt a sense of dread wash over him, and felt a desire to hide. He shrugged it aside and carried on chopping with his back to the track, knowing that it was not his place to speak to the vendor, it was Piot's role. But Piot did not call out his regular greeting. Instead an unfamiliar voice called out.
"Daha Rorricksen?" The voice sounded authoritive, like it was not used to being denied. Daha turned slowly. Three horses stood towering over him a few metres away. Two were drawing a cage-cart driven by a man, the third was mounted by a second man. Both men were wearing armour, iron chainmail with leaver greaves, and an open helmet with a hand wielding a flaming torch held on the side, the symbol of the Royal Legion. The sense to run grew greater.
"Y-yes..?" Daha asked, standing tall, and tightening his grip on the woodaxe, and Piot came to stand by his side, his old eyes squinting at the guards.
"You've been selected as a volunteer, to come and meet the great and honourable King Cacus. You must come now, we have three days to return to the capital, and no time to waste." The guard on the horse spoke clearly, his hand hovering over the sword at his hip whilst he watched Daha's own hands on the woodaxe.
"No." Daha and Piot said in unison, which took Daha back a little. He looked at his mentor, as he carried on speaking. "You can't take him, I need him, he's an apprentice, do y'have any idea how long it'd take to train a new lad?"
"That's irrelevant to us, old man. He has been chosen, so he must come at once." The guard spoke slowly now, a note of a threat creeping into his voice, amplified as he drew his sword. The second guard climbed from the cart and drew his own sword.
Daha takes a step forward, twisting his grip on the axe, but then Piot grabs the handle and pulls it away with an iron grip. "Don't be an idiot, lad... You'd only get us both killed... Go... I'll tell yer family." He hissed the first words, but then his tone softened as he finished, before he adds "Good luck."
Daha released the axe to Piot and walked forward slowly, his head low. The cart guard moves around to open the cage, whilst the mounted guard watched carefully, his sword held tight. Daha climbs into the back of the cage and sits down, defeated. The guard locks the cage and climbs back onto the front of the cart. And together they set off, the mounted guard leading the way. Daha looks up, and a sense of deja vu washes over him as he sees Piot watching him get carted away... | Name: Hugo Hahn
Nicknames: None
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Appearance: Nondescript, average build, with pale skin and light brown hair.
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 64 kg
Family:
Mother — Nadia Hahn — 32 — Alive
Remainder unknown
Abilities: Presence Manipulation– The ability to change one's social presence, like making it seem like you belong anywhere, or "disappearing" into a crowd.
Proficiencies: Subterfuge, sleight of hand, acting
Personality: Hugo acts quiet and unassuming, but is secretly arrogant and greedy. He tends to stay quiet until he has a read on a situation, and then acts in a way to benefit himself.
Background: Hugo Hahn was born to a single mother, Nadia Hahn, in the capital city of Cavolon. Nadia works as a groundskeeper at the unsuspecting Academy students and staff. As a result of subconscious uses of his ability, Hugo hasn't been caught at this. While he is supposed to help Nadia at her work, he often slipped away to join various classes at the Academy, so he has a smattering of education in various subjects, but not a good grasp on the fundamentals of mathematics and science. His arrogance has lead him to not question why he was allowed into these classes, another subconscious use of his ability. Eventually, however, a professor noticed a child in his class of young adults, and Nadia was confronted and reprimanded for Hugo's actions. Now, she tends to keep a firm hand when dealing with Hugo, and his expeditions have become a lot less frequent than he liked. |
46,465 | 1,262 | 1 | 2,502 | 1,203 | Hugo Hahn, you're coming with us.
Hugo looked around. So this was why the staff meeting had been called. His mother was crying. The Academy staff was staring at him, whispering to each other. He couldn't hear what they were saying.
"You have volunteered as one of our great and honorable King Cacus's chosen."
The torch on the Royal Legionnaire's armor stood out against the dull gray metal. He was holding a drawing, a perfect representation of Hugo's face. The man looked bored, like he didn't expect any trouble. But why would he, representing one of the strongest men in the world?
"We will be taking you to the Palace. Immediately. Follow me."
Hugo hadn't noticed the guards behind him. They were grabbing his arms. His mothers voice filled his ears. She was begging, pleading for him to not be taken, to take her instead. The guards didn't look at her. Hugo wanted to turn around, to run back to her and say goodbye, but soon he was outside.
He looked at the guard who had spoken and said, "So what happens to me there? Am I going to become one of you?"
The guards didn't say anything, and they soon reached a cage sitting atop a cart. They shoved Hugo in, and closed and locked the gate.
Hugo was silent as he left the Academy, his home, for what he was sure was the last time. | Name: Kirsta Corasdottir
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Appearance: A slight, willowy girl with long red hair, dark blue eyes and creamy skin. Considered beautiful by most standards.
Height: 5'4”
Weight: 102lbs
Family:
Mother: Cora, 24. A prostitute from Eastwatch, deceased
Father: Barthas Mogran, 54. A skilled researcher, alchemist and lord in Cacus’s court. He is frequently unfaithful to his wife. Kirsta has never met him but does know that he is her father.
Lady Tiara Mogran, 41. Lord Mogran’s wife. She is well aware of her husband’s various mistresses, and is equally unfaithful to him. However, she does not know about Kirsta’s birth.
Camlin Mogran, 24. Kirsta’s half-brother and a sadistic captain in the Royal Legion.
Lorain Arteno, 19. Kirsta’s half-sister and full sister of Camlin. Has the power of tactile telepathy.
Abilities:
Can create and move hard-light barriers. Barriers are indestructible, but require energy from Kirsta’s body to be maintained.
Proficiencies:
Stealing, deception, seduction, knives, perception
Personality:
Kirsta is very manipulative, resourceful, and selfish, having spent most of her short life having to support herself by any means necessary; if it will keep her alive for another day, she will do it. Loyal to no one but herself, she distrusts any act of kindness until she knows what it is someone wants from her. She is very adept at reading people and situations, as her survival has frequently depended on that skill. Has a deep disgust for nobility on account of her brother.
Background:
Some people live their lives having everything handed to them. Food, drink, a good roof, pleasure, these individuals get it all. Never knowing hardship or uncertainty, they live knowing that life will provide them with everything they will ever need.
But for every person who receives the boons of life, there is someone else whom those boons are taken from. Kirsta falls into the second category. Her mother Cora came from Eastwatch, but became the mistress of Lord Barthus Mogran, a nobleman in the court of Cavolon. When he learned that she had become pregnant, he promptly cast her out onto the streets, rather than risk his indiscretion becoming public knowledge. Having no skills to speak of and no resources other than her body, Cora resorted to prostitution to support herself and her infant daughter.
When Kirsta was 7 years old, her mother was murdered by one of her clients. Now forced to survive on her own, Kirsta resorted to any means necessary to survive; stealing food from market stalls, sleeping wherever she could find shelter, and teaching herself to use a knife so that she could avoid the same fate as her mother.
At the age of 14, now a prostitute as well, Kirsta was arrested by a Legion captain named Camlin Mogran, legitimate son of Lord Barthus and, unbeknownst to him, Kirsta’s half-brother. Mogran gave her a choice; either have sex with him in exchange for her freedom, or rot in prison. Aware of her noble parentage but unable to use it, as no one would believe her, Kirsta saw no other choice but to accept, as those who entered the prison system seldom came out of it. Kirsta and Camlin saw each other frequently over the next two years, and it was under her half-brother’s sadistic and abusive hand that Kirsta’s dislike for nobility festered into hatred and disgust. During this time she also met her half-sister Lorain, who had often suffered from Camlin’s unwanted attention as they grew up. Through her own power of tactile telepathy, Lorain discovered their relation to Kirsta, but has kept this secret, as a small rebellion against Camlin’s control. |
46,466 | 1,262 | 2 | 1,108 | 576 | I'm sitting in a dark corner at the back of an inn in Oakport, hood drawn to hide my face, like it is almost everywhere I go. I'm not drinking, of course, but I've got a room for the night. Anywhere else, anytime else, someone would notice the cloaked, quiet man set apart from the revelry around him. But in this inn, at this time of night? Everyone's either too drunk or too busy dealing with drunks to care. I find it genuinely fascinating how people so carelessly throw away their souls for a good time. They won't be so happy in the morning. I meditate after this thought, laughing quietly.
It's several hours longer before anyone pays me any attention. A red-faced, round man sits down across from me and asks me why I hide my face.
"Yer scarred er summin'?"
I'd rather my face wasn't shown, and I tell him as such. He laughs, ignores me, and pulls the hood down.
"Dun ah know you? Yer look familiar."
"Never met you before." I return my hood to it's previous position and check to see who's watching. Thankfully, no-one.
"Woss yer-" He's interrupted when I hit him, hard, from across the table. He falls backwards, off his chair. A group of people are looking at me, like their intoxicated minds can't decide what to do after this development.
"Couldn't handle his drink," I tell them. They laugh like it's the funniest thing they've ever heard, while I head to my room to sleep. A typical evening for me, at least.
I wake up the following morning, early, as usual. I prefer to get up jut before sunrise so I can walk for a little while without hiding my face. It's an opportunity to throw off the disguise for an hour or two, to be myself once in a while. I walk through the main room of the inn, filled with the unconscious forms of countless revelers from the previous night. I don't see the one I'd punched, though he'd probably just slunk off to some other part of the inn. I step through the door of the inn, to see a group of no less than ten spearmen raise their weapons at me, forming a half-circle to trap me between them and the front of the inn. I could go back through the door, but there's no way out but this one. Behind them, I see two men, the drunk from last night and a Legion captain. All this for me? If I hadn't passed the Test of The Seven Sins (the Test requires a prospective student to resist each Deadly Sin in turn. Since the student is, of course, human, they will inevitably fail at least one. They pass if they fail only one, like me. Mine was wrath.), I would've been proud. The captain speaks.
"Altwen Forensen, you are charged with multiple counts of treason..." Yeah, right. Learning to fight seriously, but not with the Legion? Worshiping anything other than Cacus? Both treason, apparently.
"...but our generous and forgiving Lord Cacus has offered you a chance to redeem yourself by joining the Volunteers. Do you accept?"
"Oh yeah, of course I do" I say, taking the spear from the closest soldier (while kicking him, naturally) and throwing it at the captain. Despite my retort, the soldiers are surprised and do not react immediately, but the captain does. He moves faster than most people are able to, dodging the spear and wrapping with hand around my throat immediately.
"I've been told to bring you alive, but not unharmed. You're coming with me, but I don't particularly care whether you're keeping both arms while you do it"
Unable to escape his grip, I have no choice. | Name: Altwen Forensen
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Appearance: Blonde, curly hair tied back, weathered face despite age, grey eyes, always looks ready to run
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 122lbs
Family:
Foren Quen (real name: Varkun Telasair) - Deceased, father, secretly from Dwalin, travelled across Diairon Mountains as self-inflicted punishment, reason unknown
Talissaia Quen - Alive, mother, met Foren after he completed his pilgrimage in Oakport
Altia Telasair - Deceased, stepmother, Foren's wife before he left Dwalin, Altwen named in her memory, was alive when Foren left
Ylisia Telasair - Alive, half-sister, Foren's daughter before he left, hates him and wants revenge, when discovers he is already dead will try to kill Altwen instead unless he can convince her of Foren's reasons for leaving
Abilities: Minor telekinesis, may grow stronger as character develops
Proficiencies: Unarmed combat, climbing, resisting temptation (if that can be called a "proficiency")
Personality:
Slow to make friends and quick to make enemies. Will hold on to a grudge for a long time rather than acting immediately, but will always collect. Always.
Has a strong hatred for Cacus and Logaris, but is smart enough to (at least try to) keep this a secret. Cautious, and hopes to track down his half-sister some day (knows her name but almost nothing else about her, not even what she looks like). Will do a lot to find her, thinks he has been too solitary his entire life but is in too dangerous a position to properly fit in with society in Logaris. Also has a strong sense of honour and fairness.
Background:
Was born in Oakport to Foren Quen, a secretive monk claiming to be from the Tressi Desert, and Talissaia Quen, who was local to Oakport. Lived and grew up in a small stone monastery constructed by his father in the ruins of an ancient shrine to Cacus, near Oakport, almost never seeing his mother, who helped a lot in supporting them when he was too young to work. He spent much of his life following his father's ways of fasting and depriving oneself, and while he gained a strong sense of honour he could never be as disciplined as his father. Spent some of his time working to support the three of them as he got older. Was also taught to fight by his father, using methods that rely on resourcefulness and mobility more than armour or weapons, but never found out anything about his father's past in the Tressi Desert or his travels to Oakport (as earlier mentioned, his father was actually from Dwalin). In frustration he once broke into his father's study, reading the diaries Foren treasured so greatly from before he arrived in Oakport, and discovered his father's true origins and family. Foren punished this crime, but understood he had caused this by hiding his past. Only a few weeks later, when Altwen was 14, the royal guard assaulted the monastery finally discovering what had happened to the old shrine. Foren told Altwen to flee, who protested but finally did so. Foren was killed, while Altwen became a criminal. He spent the next few years on the run, never staing anywhere for long, until he is finally caught, and is taken with nine others to Cacus' palace.... |
46,467 | 1,262 | 3 | 738 | 796 | Several days prior...
“You’re a good man Malborn,” the burly middle-aged man scoffed bouncing a small purse of coin in his hand. “But it feels a bit light… Are ya screwin’ with me?”
“N-n-no, Derian, please… I swear it’s all there.” Malborn stammered watching Derian fiddle with the bag that he had replaced on the counter.
Leaning over the counter, Elderian pulled out one of the stools. He took a seat, snatching a full flagon of ale from a passing bar wench as he did so. Leaning over the counter Derian ran his fingers through dark grey hair before meandering down the side of his face stopping to rub his chin. He brought the flagon to his lips and took a slow swig enjoying the time he watched Malborn sweat.
“Y’know what’s nice about Oakport, all you’s always been so good to me,” Derian laughed chugging the rest of the flagon. “Always making sure my pockets are full for the Boss.”
“Yes’m. I’m sure Stromm is putting this money to go use.” Malborn fumbled around with the words. “Maybe he can use that money to keep those guards out of my tavern.”
With a quirked eyebrow over his left eye Elderian took a look over his shoulder. A quintet of lightly armored guards had forced their way into the Rusty Cutlass. Pushing patrons aside, bumping serving wenches out of the way as they tried to squelch the obvious mission on their faces. Chainmail shirts supplemented with gauntlets, greaves, and a half helm all accented with blue cloth accoutrements embroidered with gold. Small shields were strapped to their backs and long swords were strapped at their hips. But the tavern was not a suitable combat zone for shield and sword. Instead, they stood with rather lengthy daggers at the ready. A good secondary weapon suitable for this particular incident. Elderian could only smirk.
“Elderian Haart, we’re looking for Elderian Haart.” The guards announced and while they had the attention of the majority of the patrons the response was astoundingly quiet. “We watched him enter, now where is he?”
“Right here king-fucker," Derian exclaimed pushing his stool back.
Grabbing at his belt he stood there mockingly, smirking while he listened to their decree, “By order of Cacus, King of Fire, Elderian Haart is to be subdued by any means barring death to be delivered to the King immediately. Will you come quietly?”
Before Derian even had the opportunity to respond the guards had began their approach their daggers at the ready. The first guard lunged. He was met by a swiftly raised bar stool that shattered over the side of the guard sending him tumbling to the ground. He shook his head before taking a step forward.
“What else ya got?”
The patrons began to scatter. Pushing to the exits and the outskirts of the tavern floor. Malborn found it prudent to hide behind the counter.
“Please… no, c’mon… take it outside…” Malborn pled.
An overhand thrust was dropped down towards Derian’s shoulder from the front, swiftly caught by his thick meaty hands. The second guard came with haste initiating a thrust move of his own. Derian expertly diverted the initial guard downward, using the shield on his back to deflect the third guards thrust. He put both men on the ground in one fluid motion sending them tumbling along the bar taking all the stools along with them.
It was just in time to dodge the first slashing attack from the fourth guard. He leapt back. He leapt back for the second slash as well. Next came a thrust, Derian side stepped to the outside grabbing the guard by the wrist. He pulled it back wrenching it up behind the guards back. Slowly he added pressure and tension to the arm until the dagger fell to the floor enjoying every waking minute. With one fluid motion he tossed the guard against the bar.
As the guard writhed against the oak bar, his body arched in agony Derian turned on his heel. He drew back his fist. A strange tingling began to crawl through his arm, static lurching from his closed fist to the leather of his jacket. As the punch moved forward true power began to materialize. Waves of lightning pulsated over his fist as if generated from the very around the limb as if breaking some sort of environmental barrier. The power manifested seemingly out of thin air until finally it smashed into the guards gut, sending his body to the ground keeled over convulsing.
Then the power was gone. Elderian slung his body over the bar in a storm of wooden shards, the shattered remains of a broken stool. His breathing heavy, he started to push himself up. Quickly he was taken to a knee. His with a shield square across the back. His heart seemed to stop beating as the pain rumbled through his body. Then his vision faded.
Sheathing the dagger that the guard had used to smash Elderian in the back of the head the guard looked around the room. The tattered remains of the battle scarred room were in disarray.
“Tie ‘em up boys. An’ get your act together.” The guard shouted shaking his head before turning to face the door. “I mean seriously… four on one and ya can’t manage…”
Current timeline
“Ugh….argh….uhhhh…”
Derian had been unconscious for some time. His body was sore. He tried to push off the floor. A sharp pain shot up right arm, his hand stinging with pain. He was forced to drop down, supporting his body on his elbow. His body jostled, rocking back and forth. Looking up he noticed a few pairs of boots near eye level. Derian found confusion had overtaken him. He tried to shake the fog from his mind but was unsuccessful. He still had no idea what was happening.
Leaning back he came to a sitting position. He tried to stand up sliding his foot forward, it moved with a jingle pulling his other leg a bit forward. Derian was bound. His ankles were bound with chains. Looking down he found his wrists free. He reached to his hips. The daggers he carried with him for only necessary situations had disappeared. Confiscated no doubt.
Slowly he meandered his way to a seat on the side of a rocking wagon. Opposite of him sat a rugged looking young man. His face beguiled his age for sure. But his true identity was of little concern. He sat, resting his arms on the side of the wagon stretching out. He tossed his head bag, basking in the sun that broke through the iron bars of the cage that wrapped around the wooden exoskeleton.
“Hey kid,” Derian smirked at Altwen, though he had not known his name. “Where’s this party going?” | Name: Hugo Hahn
Nicknames: None
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Appearance: Nondescript, average build, with pale skin and light brown hair.
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 64 kg
Family:
Mother — Nadia Hahn — 32 — Alive
Remainder unknown
Abilities: Presence Manipulation– The ability to change one's social presence, like making it seem like you belong anywhere, or "disappearing" into a crowd.
Proficiencies: Subterfuge, sleight of hand, acting
Personality: Hugo acts quiet and unassuming, but is secretly arrogant and greedy. He tends to stay quiet until he has a read on a situation, and then acts in a way to benefit himself.
Background: Hugo Hahn was born to a single mother, Nadia Hahn, in the capital city of Cavolon. Nadia works as a groundskeeper at the unsuspecting Academy students and staff. As a result of subconscious uses of his ability, Hugo hasn't been caught at this. While he is supposed to help Nadia at her work, he often slipped away to join various classes at the Academy, so he has a smattering of education in various subjects, but not a good grasp on the fundamentals of mathematics and science. His arrogance has lead him to not question why he was allowed into these classes, another subconscious use of his ability. Eventually, however, a professor noticed a child in his class of young adults, and Nadia was confronted and reprimanded for Hugo's actions. Now, she tends to keep a firm hand when dealing with Hugo, and his expeditions have become a lot less frequent than he liked. |
46,468 | 1,262 | 4 | 1,550 | 123 | Daha
Having travelled for three days and nights, first by cage-cart, then by boat down the river Kokki to the capital, Daha was exhausted. He had not been fed at all during the journey, and had been presented with a minimum amount of water. The bumpy roads had made it near impossible to sleep in the cart, and on the boat, the floor of the cage he was enclosed in was splintered and worn from the fingernails of those who had occupied the cell before him.
By the time the boat docked at the royal palace, Daha was almost relieved. He was escorted off the boat with a sack over his head, and dragged through winding corridors and down several flights of stairs, the air slowly becoming damper the deeper they descended. Eventually he heard the creaking of metal, and the sack was ripped from his head, and a strong hand pushed him between the shoulder blades, throwing him forward through an open metal door into a large stone room with no windows and high ceiling.
As the young man hit the ground, he let out a gasp of pain as the air was pushed from his lungs, and his knees and hands scraped along the flagstone floor. He twisted in time to see one of the guards slam the solid metal door closed, and hear the clunk of the lock. He remained there on the floor for a few more seconds, catching his breath back, before pushing himself to his feet. He looked around slowly, taking in eight sleeping sacks on the stone floor, which were illuminated burning torches embedded into the walls and made out of reach by metal grates with gaps too small to fit a hand through.
The eight beds sparked a thought in the back of Daha's memory. He remembered the stories of the Chosen. How each year, the legion and guard would set out and collect eight random individuals from across Logaris, and take them to the royal palace, never to be seen again. But until that moment, Daha had believed them to be just that... stories.
---
Cacus
The immortal sat atop his throne, carved of white marble. He was in his throne room, a long white hall with pillars carved of the same material as the throne which sat atop a dais at one end of the room. At the foot of the dais knelt a shivering wreck of a man. The man was all skin and bones, and his clothes clung very loosely to his almost decaying form. His hair was unkept and white, and his fingernails were broken and untamed. His eyes watched the base of the throne, not daring to look up at the man seated in the throne itself.
"Are you prepared, Daedalys?" The man sat in the throne speaks slowly, and calmly, with the arrogant air of a man who is rarely if ever refused. "The Day of the Chosen is tomorrow. And I will not allow the ceremony to begin until I am satisfied that your preparations are complete." The Fire God lets his gaze wonder the room lazily as he speaks. The main room is approximately sixty metres in length, with ten huge pillars evenly spaced in two lines, so that five stood either side of the room, running down it. On each pillar stood a guard in full armour, the burning sun carved proudly onto their chests, their spearswords held tightly in their grasp. Another two guards stood at the bottom of the dais, one on each corner.
"Y-yes my lord..." The old man replies, his voice breaking halfway through the short sentence. "Of c-course my lord... I w-wou-would never allow m-my insolence to impede up-upon his greatness' plans and r-routine..." He grovels, bowing his head lower as he speaks.
A brief smirk flickers across Cacus' face. "Very good. You are dismissed in that case." He looked down at the guards at the foot of the dais. "Return him to his cell."
The guards move in unison towards the old man who suddenly looks up, his eyes are clouded, and he squints in the direction of Cacus, his vision clearly as broken as his confidence. "My lord, if I may..." He starts, and the guards stop either side of him, looking to their king for further orders. "I-I would be able to w-work much faster and efficiently if Icarys were r-ret-returned to assist m-me."
This time, the king does not attempt to hide his smirk. "My dear man..." He gets to his feet and walks down the dais towards Daedalys slowly. "Your son enjoys his new quarters so much, though... It would be a shame to give him back to you, to be forced to live in squalor... Besides. He is a good insurance policy." He stops just in front of the old man, staring down at him. "Now, back to your cell. I have other matters to attend to." | Name: Hugo Hahn
Nicknames: None
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Appearance: Nondescript, average build, with pale skin and light brown hair.
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 64 kg
Family:
Mother — Nadia Hahn — 32 — Alive
Remainder unknown
Abilities: Presence Manipulation– The ability to change one's social presence, like making it seem like you belong anywhere, or "disappearing" into a crowd.
Proficiencies: Subterfuge, sleight of hand, acting
Personality: Hugo acts quiet and unassuming, but is secretly arrogant and greedy. He tends to stay quiet until he has a read on a situation, and then acts in a way to benefit himself.
Background: Hugo Hahn was born to a single mother, Nadia Hahn, in the capital city of Cavolon. Nadia works as a groundskeeper at the unsuspecting Academy students and staff. As a result of subconscious uses of his ability, Hugo hasn't been caught at this. While he is supposed to help Nadia at her work, he often slipped away to join various classes at the Academy, so he has a smattering of education in various subjects, but not a good grasp on the fundamentals of mathematics and science. His arrogance has lead him to not question why he was allowed into these classes, another subconscious use of his ability. Eventually, however, a professor noticed a child in his class of young adults, and Nadia was confronted and reprimanded for Hugo's actions. Now, she tends to keep a firm hand when dealing with Hugo, and his expeditions have become a lot less frequent than he liked. |
46,469 | 1,262 | 5 | 2,502 | 1,203 | Kirsta looked up from beneath her blanket as the dungeon door squealed open. She’d been thrown in here a few days before, still in her dress that she’d had when the Royal Guard had come to “escort” her. Since then, she’d had nothing but the torches for company. Now, it seemed, she was finally going to have someone new with her.
If he weren’t so scuffed up, she might have described the newcomer as almost handsome. He had the sort of build that suggested a great deal of physical labour in the sun, definitely not from the city. Probably from some nameless village she didn’t know. Maybe he thought that it would be a great honor to be Chosen. Maybe the poor boy would be a blubbering mess after being taken from his home. Whatever the case, the sucker was lust as screwed as she was now.
But, that was no reason not to make use of the situation given to her. Flipping aside the sack that had served as a blanket, she adopted an innocent air as she made her way to the man’s side. “Um, are you okay?” she asked with a nervous falsetto. It was easy to lure in men by acting weak and frightened. | Name: Kirsta Corasdottir
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Appearance: A slight, willowy girl with long red hair, dark blue eyes and creamy skin. Considered beautiful by most standards.
Height: 5'4”
Weight: 102lbs
Family:
Mother: Cora, 24. A prostitute from Eastwatch, deceased
Father: Barthas Mogran, 54. A skilled researcher, alchemist and lord in Cacus’s court. He is frequently unfaithful to his wife. Kirsta has never met him but does know that he is her father.
Lady Tiara Mogran, 41. Lord Mogran’s wife. She is well aware of her husband’s various mistresses, and is equally unfaithful to him. However, she does not know about Kirsta’s birth.
Camlin Mogran, 24. Kirsta’s half-brother and a sadistic captain in the Royal Legion.
Lorain Arteno, 19. Kirsta’s half-sister and full sister of Camlin. Has the power of tactile telepathy.
Abilities:
Can create and move hard-light barriers. Barriers are indestructible, but require energy from Kirsta’s body to be maintained.
Proficiencies:
Stealing, deception, seduction, knives, perception
Personality:
Kirsta is very manipulative, resourceful, and selfish, having spent most of her short life having to support herself by any means necessary; if it will keep her alive for another day, she will do it. Loyal to no one but herself, she distrusts any act of kindness until she knows what it is someone wants from her. She is very adept at reading people and situations, as her survival has frequently depended on that skill. Has a deep disgust for nobility on account of her brother.
Background:
Some people live their lives having everything handed to them. Food, drink, a good roof, pleasure, these individuals get it all. Never knowing hardship or uncertainty, they live knowing that life will provide them with everything they will ever need.
But for every person who receives the boons of life, there is someone else whom those boons are taken from. Kirsta falls into the second category. Her mother Cora came from Eastwatch, but became the mistress of Lord Barthus Mogran, a nobleman in the court of Cavolon. When he learned that she had become pregnant, he promptly cast her out onto the streets, rather than risk his indiscretion becoming public knowledge. Having no skills to speak of and no resources other than her body, Cora resorted to prostitution to support herself and her infant daughter.
When Kirsta was 7 years old, her mother was murdered by one of her clients. Now forced to survive on her own, Kirsta resorted to any means necessary to survive; stealing food from market stalls, sleeping wherever she could find shelter, and teaching herself to use a knife so that she could avoid the same fate as her mother.
At the age of 14, now a prostitute as well, Kirsta was arrested by a Legion captain named Camlin Mogran, legitimate son of Lord Barthus and, unbeknownst to him, Kirsta’s half-brother. Mogran gave her a choice; either have sex with him in exchange for her freedom, or rot in prison. Aware of her noble parentage but unable to use it, as no one would believe her, Kirsta saw no other choice but to accept, as those who entered the prison system seldom came out of it. Kirsta and Camlin saw each other frequently over the next two years, and it was under her half-brother’s sadistic and abusive hand that Kirsta’s dislike for nobility festered into hatred and disgust. During this time she also met her half-sister Lorain, who had often suffered from Camlin’s unwanted attention as they grew up. Through her own power of tactile telepathy, Lorain discovered their relation to Kirsta, but has kept this secret, as a small rebellion against Camlin’s control. |
46,470 | 1,262 | 6 | 1,108 | 576 | No less than eight armed guards accompanied Altwen and the other man to their cell. Apparently he had caused the guards some trouble in his capture, like Altwen had, but regardless they clearly weren't taking risks here. Altwen himself was glad he wasn't the only one they were worried about - having to protect someone could cause problems on the way out. He glared at the guards but kept quiet. He walked to his cell.
When they arrived, he was surprised to find they were sharing a cell with not just each other, but several others as well. Eight beds in the cell, but apparently not everyone had arrived yet, because only a man and a girl slightly younger than him were waiting there. The pair stepped into the cell with the others, while the door slammed shut behind them. Altwen looked around briefly, then picked an empty corner and sat there to meditate. Before he began, he told them "Before any of you ask, yes, I do plan to get out of here, and no, you shouldn't disturb me if you expect me to help you do the same". And then he sat, wreathed in silence and thought. | Name: Altwen Forensen
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Appearance: Blonde, curly hair tied back, weathered face despite age, grey eyes, always looks ready to run
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 122lbs
Family:
Foren Quen (real name: Varkun Telasair) - Deceased, father, secretly from Dwalin, travelled across Diairon Mountains as self-inflicted punishment, reason unknown
Talissaia Quen - Alive, mother, met Foren after he completed his pilgrimage in Oakport
Altia Telasair - Deceased, stepmother, Foren's wife before he left Dwalin, Altwen named in her memory, was alive when Foren left
Ylisia Telasair - Alive, half-sister, Foren's daughter before he left, hates him and wants revenge, when discovers he is already dead will try to kill Altwen instead unless he can convince her of Foren's reasons for leaving
Abilities: Minor telekinesis, may grow stronger as character develops
Proficiencies: Unarmed combat, climbing, resisting temptation (if that can be called a "proficiency")
Personality:
Slow to make friends and quick to make enemies. Will hold on to a grudge for a long time rather than acting immediately, but will always collect. Always.
Has a strong hatred for Cacus and Logaris, but is smart enough to (at least try to) keep this a secret. Cautious, and hopes to track down his half-sister some day (knows her name but almost nothing else about her, not even what she looks like). Will do a lot to find her, thinks he has been too solitary his entire life but is in too dangerous a position to properly fit in with society in Logaris. Also has a strong sense of honour and fairness.
Background:
Was born in Oakport to Foren Quen, a secretive monk claiming to be from the Tressi Desert, and Talissaia Quen, who was local to Oakport. Lived and grew up in a small stone monastery constructed by his father in the ruins of an ancient shrine to Cacus, near Oakport, almost never seeing his mother, who helped a lot in supporting them when he was too young to work. He spent much of his life following his father's ways of fasting and depriving oneself, and while he gained a strong sense of honour he could never be as disciplined as his father. Spent some of his time working to support the three of them as he got older. Was also taught to fight by his father, using methods that rely on resourcefulness and mobility more than armour or weapons, but never found out anything about his father's past in the Tressi Desert or his travels to Oakport (as earlier mentioned, his father was actually from Dwalin). In frustration he once broke into his father's study, reading the diaries Foren treasured so greatly from before he arrived in Oakport, and discovered his father's true origins and family. Foren punished this crime, but understood he had caused this by hiding his past. Only a few weeks later, when Altwen was 14, the royal guard assaulted the monastery finally discovering what had happened to the old shrine. Foren told Altwen to flee, who protested but finally did so. Foren was killed, while Altwen became a criminal. He spent the next few years on the run, never staing anywhere for long, until he is finally caught, and is taken with nine others to Cacus' palace.... |
46,471 | 1,262 | 7 | 738 | 796 | ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elderian Haart was known for a lot of reasons. He was known to be compassionate when people were a little short on their payments. He would only break a couple of fingers rather than a knee or an arm. He was known as ruthless when people were a lot short on their payments breaking multiple bones. And he was known as an honest fellow, making sure they understood that if he had to run that he would kill them, which he did. Either way he was most definitively known as hard-working because no matter what he always got his money whether or not the payee was dead or alive.
However, there were a few things that Elderian Haart was not known for. He was not known to be rash, careless, arrogant, or foolish. Yes, on the day he was captured he had happened to be all four of these things and it had been his undoing. While he was out cold when physically captured he remembered the fight quite clearly. But it had not confused him until he remembered exactly what happened in the wagon when he had tried to pick himself up off the floor of the wagon - no thanks to that blond little punk. What sort of prisoners don’t help their fellow prisoners against the men that captured them? He couldn’t really be that stupid. But what’s a kid to know? Their always acting stupid.
“Come on! Go get your boss! I’m sure mine will have some few choice words damn it!” Derian shouted as he rattled the iron-barred door to the collective prison cell.
He rattle those iron bars for a few moments longer, small pieces of stone and clouds of dust fallen from the wall around it. But soon after punching the cage he turned around to examine the other members of the cell that he would momentarily call home. They were all a bunch of dumb kids. Little did he realize how close he may have been to avoiding this entire scenario. He was already so close to death in this life, yet somehow he had eluded it long enough to find this hell. What was he suppose to do with all of these kids? He’d be damned if he was about to play babysitter.
”Alright… which one of you foul smelling little shits has gotten me into this mess?”
Derian looked around the cell. He examined each of their faces at least that which he could see. None of them looked entirely too promising. They appeared to be nothing but a few street urchins. He could only imagine what they had brought him in for. He had assaulted and murdered more people than he had cared to remember in the last two decades of his life. However, his only opinion of this ragtag group of youngsters was that they were thieves. Much to green around the gills to be criminals of any true merit.
He looked at the boy in complaining about being bothered, the same boy that ignored him in the cage on their way here, ”Did I kill your daddy or something,kiddo?”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ | Name: Hugo Hahn
Nicknames: None
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Appearance: Nondescript, average build, with pale skin and light brown hair.
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 64 kg
Family:
Mother — Nadia Hahn — 32 — Alive
Remainder unknown
Abilities: Presence Manipulation– The ability to change one's social presence, like making it seem like you belong anywhere, or "disappearing" into a crowd.
Proficiencies: Subterfuge, sleight of hand, acting
Personality: Hugo acts quiet and unassuming, but is secretly arrogant and greedy. He tends to stay quiet until he has a read on a situation, and then acts in a way to benefit himself.
Background: Hugo Hahn was born to a single mother, Nadia Hahn, in the capital city of Cavolon. Nadia works as a groundskeeper at the unsuspecting Academy students and staff. As a result of subconscious uses of his ability, Hugo hasn't been caught at this. While he is supposed to help Nadia at her work, he often slipped away to join various classes at the Academy, so he has a smattering of education in various subjects, but not a good grasp on the fundamentals of mathematics and science. His arrogance has lead him to not question why he was allowed into these classes, another subconscious use of his ability. Eventually, however, a professor noticed a child in his class of young adults, and Nadia was confronted and reprimanded for Hugo's actions. Now, she tends to keep a firm hand when dealing with Hugo, and his expeditions have become a lot less frequent than he liked. |
46,472 | 1,262 | 8 | 1,108 | 576 | After a long pause, Altwen looked at the prisoner now speaking to him. "No, that was the Royal Guard, though I can see you have a similar lack of intelligence. Perhaps that's where the mistake arose. Take my advice or stay out of my way. Maybe you don't think you belong in this room? I don't belong in this entire worthless country, and I plan on leaving it." Altwen said this and got up slowly, watching the older man. "I should warn you, I have surpassed six sins, but I am not above Wrath. Do not rouse it." Altwen walked forwards, aiming to put himself in the middle of the room. His training relied heavily on mobility, and he could not afford to be trapped in a corner if this became a fight.
Altwen looked around, searching for anything he could use. The other half of his training: resourcefulness. He was not trained in any particular weapons, but he knew how to make something into one and use it effectively. So he looked: rectangular room , 8 beds, thin sheets. Small, made for a large group, but with minimal cost in materials and space. 3 stones walls, middle one leads to outside, probably thickest. One barred wall, heavy metal door, slot presumably for food. One small window, tiny, too high to reach, barred. High ceiling, damp floor, both also stone. Not much to work with. The sheets on the bed could be used to blind a target, but not for long, rapid consolidation would be necessary. Damp floor only useful against inexperienced fighters. High ceiling means possible vertical maneuverability, though the walls would be almost impossible to climb. Not much to work with. | Name: Altwen Forensen
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Appearance: Blonde, curly hair tied back, weathered face despite age, grey eyes, always looks ready to run
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 122lbs
Family:
Foren Quen (real name: Varkun Telasair) - Deceased, father, secretly from Dwalin, travelled across Diairon Mountains as self-inflicted punishment, reason unknown
Talissaia Quen - Alive, mother, met Foren after he completed his pilgrimage in Oakport
Altia Telasair - Deceased, stepmother, Foren's wife before he left Dwalin, Altwen named in her memory, was alive when Foren left
Ylisia Telasair - Alive, half-sister, Foren's daughter before he left, hates him and wants revenge, when discovers he is already dead will try to kill Altwen instead unless he can convince her of Foren's reasons for leaving
Abilities: Minor telekinesis, may grow stronger as character develops
Proficiencies: Unarmed combat, climbing, resisting temptation (if that can be called a "proficiency")
Personality:
Slow to make friends and quick to make enemies. Will hold on to a grudge for a long time rather than acting immediately, but will always collect. Always.
Has a strong hatred for Cacus and Logaris, but is smart enough to (at least try to) keep this a secret. Cautious, and hopes to track down his half-sister some day (knows her name but almost nothing else about her, not even what she looks like). Will do a lot to find her, thinks he has been too solitary his entire life but is in too dangerous a position to properly fit in with society in Logaris. Also has a strong sense of honour and fairness.
Background:
Was born in Oakport to Foren Quen, a secretive monk claiming to be from the Tressi Desert, and Talissaia Quen, who was local to Oakport. Lived and grew up in a small stone monastery constructed by his father in the ruins of an ancient shrine to Cacus, near Oakport, almost never seeing his mother, who helped a lot in supporting them when he was too young to work. He spent much of his life following his father's ways of fasting and depriving oneself, and while he gained a strong sense of honour he could never be as disciplined as his father. Spent some of his time working to support the three of them as he got older. Was also taught to fight by his father, using methods that rely on resourcefulness and mobility more than armour or weapons, but never found out anything about his father's past in the Tressi Desert or his travels to Oakport (as earlier mentioned, his father was actually from Dwalin). In frustration he once broke into his father's study, reading the diaries Foren treasured so greatly from before he arrived in Oakport, and discovered his father's true origins and family. Foren punished this crime, but understood he had caused this by hiding his past. Only a few weeks later, when Altwen was 14, the royal guard assaulted the monastery finally discovering what had happened to the old shrine. Foren told Altwen to flee, who protested but finally did so. Foren was killed, while Altwen became a criminal. He spent the next few years on the run, never staing anywhere for long, until he is finally caught, and is taken with nine others to Cacus' palace.... |
46,473 | 1,262 | 9 | 1,550 | 123 | Daha rolled his eyes. He had sat on the mat beside the girl who had spoken to him on his arrival. After her question had been asked, he had barely had enough time to confirm that he had no injuries, if that's what she meant, before the two other men were thrown into the room. When the two others were brought in, he sat on the thin mat, which did little to protect him from the cold hard floor, watching the two men converse.
"Do the two of you even know where you are... or why?" Daha asked as the younger of the two men sat on a bed opposite him. The older of the two of them was still on his feet. "We have been... volunteered, I guess... They took another lad from my village a couple years back. People do not come back from here." He leans back, with a glance at the ground. "Though by all means, if you plan on escaping... I would recommend sharing." He looks at the younger man, sat opposite him, "You would not make it out of here alive."
The woodcutter's apprentice had barely finished speaking when the heavy metal door swung open and two girls were pushed in. They looked a little older than Daha himself, and were completely identical. Both of them had the same long dirty blonde hair, and bright green eyes full of fear. They stood close to one another in the doorway, looking around the room, not saying a word, probably closer together right now, united in fear, than they had when they once shared a womb. | Name: Hugo Hahn
Nicknames: None
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Appearance: Nondescript, average build, with pale skin and light brown hair.
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 64 kg
Family:
Mother — Nadia Hahn — 32 — Alive
Remainder unknown
Abilities: Presence Manipulation– The ability to change one's social presence, like making it seem like you belong anywhere, or "disappearing" into a crowd.
Proficiencies: Subterfuge, sleight of hand, acting
Personality: Hugo acts quiet and unassuming, but is secretly arrogant and greedy. He tends to stay quiet until he has a read on a situation, and then acts in a way to benefit himself.
Background: Hugo Hahn was born to a single mother, Nadia Hahn, in the capital city of Cavolon. Nadia works as a groundskeeper at the unsuspecting Academy students and staff. As a result of subconscious uses of his ability, Hugo hasn't been caught at this. While he is supposed to help Nadia at her work, he often slipped away to join various classes at the Academy, so he has a smattering of education in various subjects, but not a good grasp on the fundamentals of mathematics and science. His arrogance has lead him to not question why he was allowed into these classes, another subconscious use of his ability. Eventually, however, a professor noticed a child in his class of young adults, and Nadia was confronted and reprimanded for Hugo's actions. Now, she tends to keep a firm hand when dealing with Hugo, and his expeditions have become a lot less frequent than he liked. |
46,474 | 1,262 | 10 | 738 | 796 | ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Elderian Haart ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
”Yeah ya lil pipsqueak. I heard the rumors too. I’ve seen the guards draggin’ people off.” Derian pulled away from the iron door before continuing, “Foolhardy cowards, the whole lot of ‘em. Couldn’t even take me one on one.”
Derian began to walk towards the rest of them. He found it prudent to ignore the pipsqueak meditating. Gods forbid his interrupt the little runt while he was wasting his time contemplating escape when he wouldn’t even be able to survive the first few guards they came across. Or so Derian had believed given the overall appearance of the young scamp. What help would that little kid be anyway - built like a wet paper bag and all.
”Sayin’ we volunteered is like thinking that little runt over there is going to get through the guards.” Derian scoffed with chuckle and a grin, ”I’ve missed out on this nonsense for decades… I guess they finally wised up and sent a whole lot of ‘em to drag me in.” Derian scuffled across the ground and took up a sit against the wall near the other two who had opted to sit on the cold stone floor. ”Wait until Stromm hears about this, he’ll have all of Oakport on bent -”
Derian was interrupted before he could finish his hyperbole. The metal door ricocheted off the wall, rattling its hinges and showering the ground with dust. Two girls of no particular note other than they were twins had entered. He did not find them particularly attractive but hey, with the slim pickings they’d be all the excitement Derian needed on the journey back from this hell hole.
”Side from beatin’ the hell outta some guards, I don’t got much else to offa. Derian looked towards the door as it slammed shut leaving the two girls locked inside with the rest of them. ”Sounds like ya got some insider info, wanna let us in on the secret?” He quipped turning his attention towards Daha.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ | Name: Hugo Hahn
Nicknames: None
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Appearance: Nondescript, average build, with pale skin and light brown hair.
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 64 kg
Family:
Mother — Nadia Hahn — 32 — Alive
Remainder unknown
Abilities: Presence Manipulation– The ability to change one's social presence, like making it seem like you belong anywhere, or "disappearing" into a crowd.
Proficiencies: Subterfuge, sleight of hand, acting
Personality: Hugo acts quiet and unassuming, but is secretly arrogant and greedy. He tends to stay quiet until he has a read on a situation, and then acts in a way to benefit himself.
Background: Hugo Hahn was born to a single mother, Nadia Hahn, in the capital city of Cavolon. Nadia works as a groundskeeper at the unsuspecting Academy students and staff. As a result of subconscious uses of his ability, Hugo hasn't been caught at this. While he is supposed to help Nadia at her work, he often slipped away to join various classes at the Academy, so he has a smattering of education in various subjects, but not a good grasp on the fundamentals of mathematics and science. His arrogance has lead him to not question why he was allowed into these classes, another subconscious use of his ability. Eventually, however, a professor noticed a child in his class of young adults, and Nadia was confronted and reprimanded for Hugo's actions. Now, she tends to keep a firm hand when dealing with Hugo, and his expeditions have become a lot less frequent than he liked. |
46,475 | 1,262 | 11 | 1,108 | 576 | Yes, I think that would be wise, and if you can fight as well, that's a start. And I understand your concern... Altwen said, speaking to the other man now, the one sat next to the girl. "...but whether you are correct or not is irrelevant. I have a tendency to surprise people although I admit I do not like my odds. What you do not realise is that I would find an honourable death in battle preferable to remaining trapped here extensively. Of course, escape would be ideal, but realise I do not see such a death as a failure. My name is Altwen, and if you wish, it will be a pleasure to work with you." | Name: Altwen Forensen
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Appearance: Blonde, curly hair tied back, weathered face despite age, grey eyes, always looks ready to run
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 122lbs
Family:
Foren Quen (real name: Varkun Telasair) - Deceased, father, secretly from Dwalin, travelled across Diairon Mountains as self-inflicted punishment, reason unknown
Talissaia Quen - Alive, mother, met Foren after he completed his pilgrimage in Oakport
Altia Telasair - Deceased, stepmother, Foren's wife before he left Dwalin, Altwen named in her memory, was alive when Foren left
Ylisia Telasair - Alive, half-sister, Foren's daughter before he left, hates him and wants revenge, when discovers he is already dead will try to kill Altwen instead unless he can convince her of Foren's reasons for leaving
Abilities: Minor telekinesis, may grow stronger as character develops
Proficiencies: Unarmed combat, climbing, resisting temptation (if that can be called a "proficiency")
Personality:
Slow to make friends and quick to make enemies. Will hold on to a grudge for a long time rather than acting immediately, but will always collect. Always.
Has a strong hatred for Cacus and Logaris, but is smart enough to (at least try to) keep this a secret. Cautious, and hopes to track down his half-sister some day (knows her name but almost nothing else about her, not even what she looks like). Will do a lot to find her, thinks he has been too solitary his entire life but is in too dangerous a position to properly fit in with society in Logaris. Also has a strong sense of honour and fairness.
Background:
Was born in Oakport to Foren Quen, a secretive monk claiming to be from the Tressi Desert, and Talissaia Quen, who was local to Oakport. Lived and grew up in a small stone monastery constructed by his father in the ruins of an ancient shrine to Cacus, near Oakport, almost never seeing his mother, who helped a lot in supporting them when he was too young to work. He spent much of his life following his father's ways of fasting and depriving oneself, and while he gained a strong sense of honour he could never be as disciplined as his father. Spent some of his time working to support the three of them as he got older. Was also taught to fight by his father, using methods that rely on resourcefulness and mobility more than armour or weapons, but never found out anything about his father's past in the Tressi Desert or his travels to Oakport (as earlier mentioned, his father was actually from Dwalin). In frustration he once broke into his father's study, reading the diaries Foren treasured so greatly from before he arrived in Oakport, and discovered his father's true origins and family. Foren punished this crime, but understood he had caused this by hiding his past. Only a few weeks later, when Altwen was 14, the royal guard assaulted the monastery finally discovering what had happened to the old shrine. Foren told Altwen to flee, who protested but finally did so. Foren was killed, while Altwen became a criminal. He spent the next few years on the run, never staing anywhere for long, until he is finally caught, and is taken with nine others to Cacus' palace.... |
46,476 | 1,263 | 0 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Augustus Nicholson was young, barely out of his education, but he was the last heir of the de Lacy family, and the idea was to raid Nemsemet's bastion at the Museum of History, through the subway tunnels and try to find something that they could use to destroy the ancient tyrant. The plan was improvisational, and the holes in it had to do with what they didn't know about their foe, which was a lot. The ancient Egyptians, for some reason, saw fit to erase the name "Nemsemet" from everything.
Tony could take a stab at why; the old sorcerer was a fucking nightmare.
The raid was brave but foolhardy, impatient, and the sort of thing a young man might do; fight a melodramatic and romantic last stand to cast defiance in the teeth of something as a symbolic act, except the symbolism was lost on everyone who saw it happen-- Nemsemet, who killed off de Lacy's court with a ruthless and utterly terrifying efficiency and power in spellcasting, essentially disintegrated Nicholson in an inferno of his summoning; Nicholson and his followers had just breached a service corridor in the museum when Nemsemet summoned fire and turned the narrow hallway into an oven.
Nemsemet, too, understood the power of symbolism; he preferred his symbols crispy and well done on the inside.
There were those that argued against the attack, and they were vindicated, for all the good that did them.
The word of Augustus' demise reached Tony through Walton Moon, a member of the Moon family, who were fairly decent folk as the werewolves went -- they were dirt poor but they owed Tony some favors that he did to try and keep them from being completely swallowed up by poverty; they said that Nemsemet's soldiers, particularly the lycanthropes and vampires, were going to hit the hiding place next. And Tony knew where Augustus had been hiding before he launched the raid. Dumb kid; he sank his safe house and his allies with that forlorn hope bullshit.
That was the last favor; the Moons put themselves out to warn Tony, and there'd be no more help from his fellow werewolves, who were all pretty much on Nemsemet's side.
A toned, trim and well put together man with an afro, he'd looked on Augustus' demand of service due a Lord of the city with a benign sort of amusement reserved for teenagers that didn't understand the way the world worked. Nemsemet was an evil old muthafucka, but that didn't mean that Tony was about to hang his black ass out to dry for some entitled early-20's punk still wet behind the ears and demanding this and ordering that and not taking any advice.
He hadn't been the only one to advise calm and caution, but he'd been blown off like the others. The ones that went with Augustus were the juiced-in guys, the ones higher up the food chain. The Court's enforcers and various parasites and courtiers -- and they weren't ready for the sort of ugly direct combat and magic employed against them. Nemsemet rallied just about all the vampires and all the werecreatures onto his side, and as a lycanthrope himself, Tony could relate to why they did so. Most lycanthropes came from impoverished families and were given very little by the system while being used for the free labor afforded to those with any title at all in the Court. Caradoc de Lacy was something of an arrogant bastard, but he was one among many in various cities, and his court wasn't the worst...nor was it really the best.
Tony expected to be written off on his advice. The suspicion of decades ago clung to him in the eyes of Augustus, even though Tony had not joined Nemsemet like most of the others.
So Parael's place was warded up and rigged good, but apparently someone talked, and Tony found himself knocking frantically on Parael's door, not because he wanted shelter, but because that shelter was compromised, "C'mon man, open the hell up."
When someone finally did open it, he told them, somewhat out of breath, "Gotta get the hell out, Augustus and the entire raid got killed off and apparently someone talked." | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,477 | 1,263 | 1 | 2,534 | 450 | Parael Magnus hovered in his bathroom before the mirror frowning at his own reflection. His hair was an absolute mess as the bangs wouldn't stay put where he wanted them. The lime green silk bathrobe he wore was likewise disheveled, and his fingers were looking woefully out of shape. He'd skipped his weekly mani-pedi to focus on warding his apartment and the place of business. He didn't have much of a choice though. When a hurricane struck, you had to skip going to the movies to see the latest blockbuster and focus on boarding up your house.
Nemsemet was a category 5 hurricane, following an 8.9 earthquake, following a volcanic eruption.
What scared the fuck out of Parael, though, was the fact that he had 0 info on the thing. As a Celestiel, he had the ins and outs on almost every historical figure to walk the Earth. Attila the Hun? Cross-eyed and afraid of frogs. Genghis Khan was into some freaky shit. And Ivan the Terrible was a mild sociopath but loved his pet bunny.
Problem was, Nemsemet went back. Far back. Ancient Egypt was hard enough to follow, but Parael had no idea who or what Nemsemet truly was. High Priest? Fine, they were looking at a powerful Magus. True Pharoah? A Demi-god with ancient knowledge; difficult but not unkillable. An Avatar of the Egyptian deities? Now they were in trouble.
"If I were a praying Celestiel," he said to the mirror, tweaking his eyelashes, "I'd be sending out requests for backup."
The pounding on his front door made him jump and mess up his right eyelash briefly. Parry frowned and looked up at the ceiling briefly. "I said if. Don't take that as a formal request." Parry left his face half made up- a crime in his eyes- and headed down to the main floor entrance.
The Little Angels center was full up with occupants. Fae, a few petty magi and witches, mostly vagrants who wanted a place to stay while the chaos at court was settled. Nobody knew what Parry was, but they knew the place was Warded to high heaven. A few had their kids with them, crowded in the nap rooms like so many people packed into tenements, but otherwise the center was closed for business; had been since the day the sarcophagus opened.
Parry opened the front door, greeting the Lycanthrope with an absurd sight- that strangely masculine body with a female face, long golden hair, in a slinky silk robe that only reached as low as Parry's knees. It was all a big joke- he wore boxers and a designer undershirt beneath it all.
"Well hello, beautiful," Parry said with a smile. Which promptly evaporated when he heard what Tony had to say. "Get in," he said, pulling Tony into the front door before slamming it shut and locking the deadbolts. "Details. Now. Skip nothing. Who talked and what'd they say?"
Oh man... The old Isis charm Parry gave the raid group was a long shot. Looooooong shot. And it wasn't like there were a ton of people who peddled in old Egyptian Magic. Still, they could maybe pin his support on someone else... | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,478 | 1,263 | 2 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Well, he could have resisted, but he wasn't; he wanted in as bad as anyone else. He kept his voice low and calm, because the last thing he wanted to do was start a panic among the people taking shelter here. For that matter, he was a lycanthrope, some of these folks tended to view the breed with suspicion. Moon-mad and the ability to turn into psychotic raging man-beasts. It was actually understandable.
"Some Werewolves I know passed on the word as a last favor. Not saying who. Said Augustus and his entire raid force got rolled over bad as soon as they reached the museum and one of them lived long enough to talk. Or maybe he was dead when he got made to talk, who the fuck knows? We both know where they were hiding and it's a good bet Nemsemet got that out of the guy who snitched. That means that shit's gonna land here hard." He never lost the entire 'ebonic' accent, the African-Americanisms that identified his background, but he was also a guy that held a Master's from Tulane.
"I know you've got heavy defenses here, but Nemsemet's a nightmare, man. You might be able to hold this place for a little bit, but that needs to happen while the little ones are getting taken to safety." Tony wasn't willing to fight for Augustus Nicholson, but he'd spent decades trying to help turn around some of Camden's meanest ghettos. Parael was a known entity in the community insofar as that it was damn unlikely he'd just pick up sticks and leave the kids hanging and Tony already had problems looking himself in the eyes in the mirror many mornings. He wasn't about to do it either. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,479 | 1,263 | 3 | 2,534 | 450 | Parry stopped in place, chewing his thumbnail while the Lycanthrope gave him the latest and not-so-greatest on how badly they were fucked. Dammit all to the Pit, he shouldn't have given Augustus the help. Stupid stupid stupid! He had a soft spot for kids, part of his old job. For whatever reason, Augustus had hit him hard with the "Think of the children!" line and Parael had taken the bait. 'Of course I'll think of the children! Here, take this old thing- no, don't ask where I got it. It should work as proof against Egyptian Magi.' Should being the operative word there.
Now his place had a big fat target on it, and he was out his most powerful asset in the fight against Nemsemet.
Well, not his most powerful. He still had his old sword. But if he pulled that one out, they might as well drop a nuclear missile on the museum. It'd get the job done with far less of a mess.
"Well, if Nemsemet can make corpses talk, we're double boned. No helping there," he said, walking back to the main room of the Center. A few Fae were huddled in the corner sleeping, some lone-wolf shifters sleeping in a pile on the main carpet. A teenage pimple faced wizard was busy playing a game on a smart-phone, oblivious to their presence.
Hardly the makings of an army.
Parry slipped right past them and pulled a black designer diaper bag off the coat rack on the wall- All silver patterns and gold thread. Fancy stuff. It weighed a few pounds but opening it revealed nothing.
"Alright, do me a favor and hit the basement. There's two safes beneath the stairs. Code's 1-5-1 on both of them. Empty them both into here. And do NOT open the flasks in safe number two. I'll dispose of them later but Nemsemet cannot have them."
Packed in with all the industrial sized boxes of diapers, pull-ups, baby food and extra toys were a pair of electronic safes. Number one had all the cash Parael owed de Lacy for his tithes. Not collected since the court got nuked, so they'd have about three grand in cash for whatever they needed. de Lacy's real tribute was in safe number two, bottled up in a silver flask with a couple others that were empty, but likely had trace amounts of liquid in them. And Nemsemet could not get his grubby hands on Celestial blood under any circumstances.
"Alright," Parry said to his occupants, checking his watch. "Closing time folks! You don't have to go home but you can't stay here! Car keys are on the table and anyone without a car, the next city bus comes around in twelve minutes. I'm going upstairs to change. Anyone still here when I get back will not be happy with what I do to you!" | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,480 | 1,263 | 4 | 2,534 | 450 | Rikive was stood still in a backroom of the daycare center, her head tilted to the side out of habit as she listened. The banging on the door had caught her attention and she tuned out the rest of the noise to focus on it. She wasn’t allowed to answer the door anymore because she tended to answer it with Winterthorn drawn and ready to fight. So she remained still and she listened to see who it was when Parael answered. To make sure they were friend not foe.
Her entire body grew stiff when she overheard the following conversation. “Son of a whore.” She whispered to herself, putting her hand on the hilt of her sword and running her other through her wavy chestnut hair. So their stronghold was now compromised and they must scatter to the four winds? How frustrating, damn that fool hardy lad. He had known nothing of proper battle tactics.
Now his foolish attempt to play hero had put them all in danger.
Shaking her head Rikive walked out of the backroom, the flowy hem of her red and gold dress and it’s sleeves annoying her simply because it wasn’t armor. She had been out in the city when she received Parael’s summons and thus woefully caught off guard. It didn’t matter, even if she had been given the proper time to prepare, she would still have no armor. Rather stupidly, she thought she wouldn’t need it when she came to Midgard.
Rikive emerged into the main room as Parael dished out his instructions then ran upstairs to change into sensible clothing. Grunting as the daycare center erupted into equally confused and terrified chatter she stepped into the fray to begin instructing people to leave before more chaos erupted.
Threatening to draw her sword seemed to do the trick well for those that became too rowdy.
Once she was sure people would actually be leaving she followed Parael's path up the stairs to talk to him. "Parael!" She called out, sticking her head into the apartment before entering and shutting the door behind her. "I heard everything, dear friend." She informed him, not one to 'beat around the bush' she believed the expression was. "What is thy plan?" She asked, crossing her arms and leaning back against the door of the apartment. | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,481 | 1,263 | 5 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint took a swig from the bottle, the dark brown liquid was gulped down quickly and was followed by a sigh of boredom. The door he was watching didn’t give much entertainment, and the bare room he sat in had nothing but a few chairs and a lightbulb. The hideout wasn’t the best of places to live, his old home was better, but he knew that he couldn’t go back there. So the abandoned apartment complex would have to do, at least it had running water. The lack of electricity was a pain at times but didn’t bother him too much. Flint decided to go for a walk, to stretch his legs. He decided to survey the hideout. He scooped up the double barrel shotgun from his lap and began walking.
It wasn’t a large apartment complex, but it could comfortably fit forty people, sixty uncomfortably. He had set up one room with gas cookers and another filled with generators in case electricity needed to be used. Then he came to the only padlocked room in the place, he removed a key and opened up the door, revealing a couple of wooden chests. He checked that all the contents of the chests where still there then began the long walk back to reception.
He placed the shotgun back on his lap, it was an old firearm and looked like it had come straight from a western film. Flint began to watch the door again, hoping that maybe someone could decipher his posters. They were written as such:
“DO YOU WANT TO FIGHT THE MAN! THE MAGICIANS ARE LOOKING FOR NEW RECRUITS FOR THERE TUBULAR NEW BAND!”
Then the address of the hideout was written at the bottom. It was unnerving how many people had come looking to join the fake band, each one had been told that “you must have gotten the wrong address”.
Flint took another swig of his bottle, then tossed its empty husk into a pile of similar empty bottles. He had been sitting here for too long, he contemplated going to Parael's hide out. He shuddered at the thought, but then realised it was better than waiting around here for nothing, he dropped off his shotgun at the armoury.
Flint wrote a small note mentioning he was out for dinner, then hopped in his Bentley R Type and made his way to his 'lovely' friend Magnus. Knocking with his signature booming knock when he got there. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,482 | 1,263 | 6 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Rikive turned to face Parael when he emerged from his closet, pulling her hair out from the back of the dark brown leather motorcycle jacket. She grinned despite the grave situation, Parael always managed to get her to laugh with his antics. “Thou art...ridiculous.” She chuckled, tugging down the hem of the black tanktop she had put on. The smell of leather was a comforting one, though she knew that the jacket was no replacement for proper armor. At least she was wearing pants now, much more appropriate for fighting.
“We are at war, not going to one of those...places with the deafening music and wild humping of dancers.” She said, making a face at the thought of such places. “Why is it bad if he were to know what you are?” She asked, pulling her hair back from her face and running her fingers through it before starting to braid it.
“If you were to...come out of ‘retirement’ as you have called it, would you not be powerful enough to turn him to dust?” Her braid finished she tied it in place with a ribbon she got from one of the shirts Parael threw at her. Rikive placed her hands on her hips, a frown on her fair face.
In some ways it was frustrating that Parael refused to come to his full power as the ancient being he was. If he did this whole mess would be over and done with all the more sooner. Though she was the daughter of a Norse god and a Light Elf, she was still rather young and not nearly as powerful as either of her parents or Parael could potentially be.
Her attention shifted to the sound of someone banging upon the front door, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword. Of course an enemy wouldn’t likely knock, but she was on edge and didn’t want to take chances. “I will answer it.” The conversation on the topic wasn’t over for her and when they were alone again she would bring it up. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,483 | 1,263 | 7 | 2,534 | 450 | War is war, but we need to look good every now and then, Parry said. And by now and then, he meant all the time. The first time he took Rikive to a club, she'd been talk of the town for all the wrong reasons. Demanding a glass of mead, trying to do a courtly dance on the floor, and breaking the wrists of a human who tried to cop a feel (not that he disagreed with that one; a few free drinks had come floating their way). "And less is more in your case. Leather looks good but leave the miniskirt."
As for her follow up question of why he chose to remain Nephilim rather than taking up his Celestial mantle, he answered that one with silence, but did cast a glance at the floorboards near his bed. The Iron Sword was buried there. Useless to most magi. Even to Rikive. Drawing it was a no-no. Nemsemet might know what it was, but even he couldn't channel it.
No, Parry wouldn't be putting his wings back on. Not for himself and not for anyone in this city. Rikive could call him selfish if she wanted, but he liked his freedom too much to give it up. And he had no idea if he could beat Nemsemet. Really, he had no idea what the mummy actually was and couldn't accurately gauge his chances.
The pounding on the door made him follow behind Rikive, scooping up her spare clothes with his own. Tony was at the bottom of the stairs, his Prada diaper bag in arm and presumably loaded up, staring at the door.
"I'll take that," Parry said, sliding all the clothes into the main opening, disappearing inside it without any sign of adding weight or width. He slid the bag over one shoulder, hanging opposite the scabard on his hip. Most of the hangers-on had left out the back door by the time he got downstairs- even pimple-faced teenage wizard.
Peeking through the peephole, Parry saw his "good friend" Flint, standing on his doorstep and waiting. Oh good, contact made and backup plan established.
Parry waved his hand, sliding open the locks on the door and opening it enough for the hard-boiled wizard to slide in to safety.
"Hey Flinty-poo! Come inside! I'll take three boxes Thin Mints, one of Samoas and all the Peanut Butter ones you've got." | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,484 | 1,263 | 8 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint was not one to make idle chit chat, he rolled his eyes at Parael and skimmed over his outfit. He didn’t understand the fashion of the modern world, anyone who had seen Flint before would know he always seemed to wear the same suit, the same hat and the same coat. Sometimes it was rumoured he only owned one of each and never changed. When asked he would just say that the outfit “is best for investigation purposes.” In the modern world however it just looked like he stepped out of a noir film.
“Im not here for a chat” Flint said, his voice sounding like he gargled gravel.
“Have you reconsidered my offer yet? Your people would be safer at my place”
Flint’s large hands searched his coat pocket, slipping out a packet of cigarettes. He carefully placed one into his mouth and clicked his fingers. A small flame burned in his grasp, he quickly wafted it away as he lit the cigarette. Breathing in the smoke then exhaling to the side, being sure to avoid breathing smoke into anyone’s face.
Flint took a step inside, spotting Rikive he nodded, then did his usual scour of the room, his eyes that of an eagle looking to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary.
Then he spotted an enemy.
In the blink of an eye Flints hand was at his gun, his hand pulling it from the shoulder holster and pointing it at the figure. The hammer clicked, locking the chamber in place on the large firearm.
“What are you doing here!” Demanded Flint to Antonio, standing at the other side of the room. Many lycans had joined Nemsemet and Flint had dealt with this one before. His finger was on the trigger, waiting for the monster to give him a reason to shoot. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,485 | 1,263 | 9 | 1,012 | 4,032 | What does it look like, asshole? he snarled. No love lost there, since Flint crawled up his ass in the 1980's trying to prove him guilty of a string of ugly murders that involved cannibalism, "Maybe you should ask the host instead of acting like this is your house and I broke in. Ever think of that or were you too busy whippin' it out to think it through, Whitey?" Just like last time, went the unspoken added comment.
He relished calling the man 'Whitey.' It was so appropriate. One letter changed the whole texture of the conversation.
But what Tony really wanted to do was just rip the man's head off, and it was hard to count more reasons off in his head than he had fingers. His nostrils flared and took in the tobacco smoke, which was offensive and harsh -- of course the guy would smoke something that smelled like a lit fart.
There were reasons, of course, not to start a fight in another being's home -- being a guest and behaving accordingly was a big deal with certain sets of supernatural. But then there were fuckers like Flint who didn't think they had to play along with the niceties, and perhaps that's why, unable to resist, Tony pointed out, "I can see why you'd be wary around werefolk, Whitey, I bet there's more than a few scores they want to settle, especially with the Court's cops. Guess that's karma comin' round real hard, looking for your ass. Shit, you protect anyone? Your place is the first place they're gonna tear up, boy. Right after this place," he added pointedly to Parael -- tick-tock.
At least getting that bit off his chest, smirking rather than snarling now, though suffused with malice that reached his eyes knowingly, seemed to stabilize his response a bit. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,486 | 1,263 | 10 | 2,534 | 450 | Oh, Flinty-poo, it's so sweet of you to offer to put up the merry band of hangers-on. Parry stepped aside for Flint, letting the drab enforcer into his home. He'd always admired the old Noir look on the guy. Thankfully, he didn't stink like he would if it was the only set of clothing he owned. "Have you reconsidered my proposal for a wardrobe change. Leather dusters are-" Parry was cut off, waving the smoke cloud of cigarette smoke out of the air after Flint lit up. "Ah, there's no smoking in here. Kids and all that."
And I'm going to smell like tobacco for a couple hours too. Need to get some cologne on, fast!
But there were no kids present any more. Most of the place had been emptied out. It was Parry's not so subtle way of reminding Flint just whose house he was in.
And as he was getting ready to excuse himself to get some more pleasant odor applied to himself, like that, with the click of a hammer on the pistol, the temperature of the room dropped about a hundred degrees.
"Whoa whoa whoa!" Parry said, resisting the urge to draw his silver Fairy Sword. "Guys, can we not murder each other while there's a fucking Egyption-god-mummy on his way to kill us all? Please? Guns down, claws retracted, and everyone take three deep breaths!" | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,487 | 1,263 | 11 | 2,377 | 482 | Rikive jumped when things quickly turned for the worst once the lawman and the messenger saw one another. Obviously they knew one another and more apparent, there was quite a lot of bad blood between them. She remained still, not wanting to add to the tension by drawing her own weapon but when the messenger snapped back at the man it seemed the situation would only become worse.
Rikive gritted her teeth as Parael spoke and started to take off her jacket, her light hazel eyes flicking between the two of them with a scowl. “Parael is right. Cease thy squabbling! We hast a large enough axe hanging ov'r our heads without fighting amongst ourselves!” She said, gripping her jacket in hand tightly and holing it as though she was about to throw it.
“Or doth thou require time outs. I believe Parael has appropriate furniture for such occasions.” She finished, her gaze split between watching the man with the gun and the Berserker. At least she wasn’t the only one that wasn’t fond of Flint the lawman. She was still sore at him for arresting her after the incident with her duel with that obnoxious human.
The mortal had agreed to it, she still maintained she was well within her rights to have beaten him like she had. | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,488 | 1,263 | 12 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint slowly placed the hammer back to safe, slipping the handcannon back into its holster. He took one last drag of his smoke before putting his cigarette out onto his jacket collar and flicking the butt outside, grimacing at the wasted cigarette.
"I moved, I know my place is probably turned over by now so I found a nice little apartment complex, separate rooms and what not" Flint glanced around the room to the hostility towards him. He knew that he would have to be more careful, try not let his emotions run wild around these people.
Flint realised he was outnumbered and so sighed "so anyway... What's the plan?" He walked over to a chair and slumped into it, he removed a coin from his pocket and manipulated the air to have it spin on the tip of his finger. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,489 | 1,263 | 13 | 2,534 | 450 | The gun was back in its place, swords were being sheathed. Rikive threatend to put both Tony and Flint in the time-out corner and wouldn't that have been something to put on YouTube? All was right with the world again. Sort of. Maybe. Minus Nemsemet coming to kill them all.
That was when the KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK at the door came, and Parry drew his own sword in aggravation as he spun round and slid open the bolts on the heavy door, leveled the blade at heart's height, and-
"Oh good lords, Beth," he said, resheathing the blade as he exhaled. Too much adrenaline today= way too much. "You know what, we're all about to murder each other from panic anyway, so why not join the party. Actually, I'm sorry. That was in bad taste."
Parry stepped to the side, making room for Beth's newer and more rotund form in his foyer.
"How you been, Beth? I see you've gained a few pounds since the last body. That meth-head didn't suit you anyway. Teeth were beyond horrid Guys and gals, this is Beth. Beth, meet my merry band of sociopaths. We were all just getting ready to skip town before an evil God-Mummy destroys the place. I'm not sure if you're on the most wanted list yet, so feel free to join in or move on and say you never saw us if you want. Flint apparently has a setup for us. Unless you've got a plan, Tony?" | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,490 | 1,263 | 14 | 2,356 | 5,042 | Arachne
A clack echoed through the open halls of the court, the sound muffled by the large doors at the end. Pulled away as the sound approached, Arachne in her human form, entered. Stepping to the center her heels announced her presence. It was a very rare occasion that she would be summoned directly. No doubt this had to do with the recent development. The neighboring court of New Canden had gone silent. While humans were coming in and out and appeared to be unaffected, anyone or anything related to the supernatural would go in and never be seen or heard from again.
So was the case with the Queen's own spiders. None of the ones that were there or went in after were responding back. It was as if they just vanished. Even the human employees that were sent to investigate failed to report in. Only those completely unaware of anything going on returned. Any now she must admit to the court her findings.
A brief uproar was raised by the attending members. One of the most informed and far reaching agents available to them told them little more than they already knew. They were not interested in the minor details the spider was able to deduce. They wanted to know what was happening inside and how everything was cut off. Each passing hour the theories that flew about made listening to any of them fruitless.
An even more rare and almost unheard of event members from other courts began to arrive. This was no summons, it was an ultimatum. Arachne may have influence and blackmail over several of them, but with as many as were banding together she had little choice but to heed their words. She, among others, were tasked with going to New Camden personally to learn of what was happening and put an end to it. Failure to do so would be severely punished, secrets be damned. With the force on hand to make it happen she relented and was escorted to the safest known distance to New Camden. Calling on her spawn she entered the unknown.
Once inside she found that communication within the mysterious barrier still functioned. In the thick of it now she made no hesitation in arranging a place to stay and put every last spider to work collecting information. In the relatively short time that things have been cut off there was very little to go on. It seemed that most here had a spotty idea what truly happened. But what was most unsettling what that the court of New Camden had been completely wiped out. | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,491 | 1,263 | 15 | 2,024 | 59 | Karram Sylian sat alone in his dingy one-bedroom apartment wondering how this could have happened. One day he was working his ass off in an attempt to make a name for himself with the courts and the next the supernatural world as he knew it went to shit. Nemsemet, some terrifying being from ancient times, had successfully killed the Count and his court members single-handed. Karram was there when it all happened, and he and Eromyr just barely escaped unscathed, albeit terribly shaken. The two of them had since been in hiding until Augustus Nicholson, last heir of the de Lacy family, decided to raid the Museum of History in some foolish attempt to defeat Nemsemet. Eromyr begged Karram to join the raid party, but he simply refused. The plan, if you could even call it that, was a suicide mission. So he let Eromyr face the dangers alone, and now he was dead along with every living (and unliving) soul that ventured into that museum...
Karram peered solemnly out his window for a glimpse of hope. Of course it was illogical to think simply looking outside would solve his problems or even offer him any solace, right? Then something caught his eye. Coincidental. Nevertheless, near his apartment complex was this sort of daycare owned by a fairly renowned and very flamboyant supernatural. The name Magnus came to mind; yes, Parael Magnus. Karram had only met him in passing a few times over the years. Honestly Karram knew more about him from the archives housed at the court than from actual interaction with him. Karram shook his head trying to stay focused.
It seemed a conglomerate of familiar entities were gathering in the daycare. First it was the lycanthrope Antonio, who looked panicked and fidgety as Magnus opened up and allowed him entry. Then Flint, whom Karram had met on several occasions in the courts, knocked loudly before Magnus rushed him in as well. And finally a strange individual in which Karram was entirely unfamiliar went in. What's going on over there? With his curiosity getting the better of him Karram quickly grabbed his sword and dagger, and hid them securely underneath a dark-colored trench coat. He briskly descended the stairs outside his apartment and made his way across the street to the daycare. Attempting to remain unseen and unheard, Karram stealthily approached the doorway and listened carefully with his eyes closed.
Albeit muffled, Karram could hear Parael's distinctive voice as he introduced someone named Beth and talked about " town before an evil God-Mummy destroys the place." Karram's eyes shot open at hearing this; Nemsemet had this place in his sights? And so near to his own dwelling. It became clear that Karram would not be safe if this rumor were true... Hell, Nemsemet could probably sense other supernaturals from mile away! "Flint apparently has a setup for us. Unless you've got a plan, Tony?" Karram assumed "Tony" was Antonio. And he wondered if Antonio would respond with a differing plan to Flint's "setup." What say you, Antonio? Another few seconds passed and Karram sighed softly, shaking his head. I can't believe I forgot again... he thought to himself as he grimaced at his own mental shortcoming... Antonio could probably smell him. | Name: Karram Sylian
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie)
Talents:
-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time.
-Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade.
-Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others.
-Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.)
-Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives.
-Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter.
History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own.
For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live.
Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past.
In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans).
But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees...
Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships.
Possessions:
-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic.
-Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family.
-Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon.
Yes, and:
Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued.
Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil.
(^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.) |
46,492 | 1,263 | 16 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Well, I have a better plan than being in debt to the Court's Dirty Harry. I already have something worked out, but I don't think it's a good idea to take Whitey here and have most of the leeches and lycanthropes in the community on our ass because he's a goddamn magnet for more trouble. Like the dude hanging around already on the doorstep.
He pointed at the nose. He wasn't a werewolf, but he still had more acute senses than that. He could see better than he could smell, but his sense of smell was still better than a human's. He wasn't sure what to do, it might be someone here for Parael, who was apparently popular right now, or it might be something else. It wasn't really a pack of lycanthropes waiting for Flint White, Tony was just too happy to needle the old man's paranoia.
"Try not to pull that gun on him Whitey, I think I remember that smell."
There were too many people here. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,493 | 1,263 | 17 | 2,377 | 482 | She couldn't say she was surprised to find everyone on edge, but Parael opening the door with a sword pointed at her meat suit's heart was not entirely expected. Still, for the time being it passed as amusing.
"Thank you for the offer but I'm already dead," Beth responded after his initial comment. She cast her gaze about the room, taking in everyone she suspected were there, before stepping inside. She offered Parael a small smile. "You're forgiven."
Most of the people in the room were familiar faces, especially the demi-god and Flint. Oh, he appeared to be irritated. She liked that; she grinned. Already several jibes bounced around her head, begging to be uttered in his direction. She kept her lips sealed, however, to catch herself up on the conversation at hand. For now it was perhaps safer in numbers. Unless the dread mummy himself sought them out, she and the others could easily hold their own against Nemsemet's minions.
Before Antonio replied, Beth felt another's energy growing closer out of the fog of her senses until it reached the door, where it stilled. She didn't know much about Parael's wards on the place, but whoever it was, she was not the only member of the group to recognise another presence; Antonio pointed out the eavesdropper as he spoke, tapping his nose.
Beth smirked and moved away from the door. "Let's deal with this quickly, yes?" she spoke, loud enough for the newcomer to hear, should the wards not include soundproofing. "If you all want to avoid mummy dearest, that is." | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,494 | 1,263 | 18 | 1,650 | 715 | Rikive put her jacket back on, glad that threat of a fight breaking out in their ranks had subsided. She did not care for the people that seemed to appear one after the other though. A bigger group meant a bigger target, especially one that was sitting still.
"I agree with the spirit and the Berserker, to some extent." She said, her hand hovering on the hilt of her sword as she eyed the door. She had heard the scuff of feet outside, but if the man was a possible ally she didn't wish to harm whoever the person was.
"We need to leave this place immediately and go somewhere that is far away and they will not think to find us. We should have been gone long before now." Frustration and fear was starting to wear her nerves down to a thin thread. "Someone decide in the next five seconds before even more people arrive 'fashionably late' to 'join the party'." She muttered, turning away to rub her temples to fight off a budding headache. "I will go anywhere that is not here." | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,495 | 1,263 | 19 | 2,024 | 59 | Karram stood from his crouched position and let out another quiet sigh as he heard several of the people inside blatantly talking about his presence. He shook his head again at his own stupidity before raising a hand to knock. Maybe they won't kill me if I just explain myself, he thought. He was just about to knock when he heard the faint rustling of someone behind him fidgeting with something. Karram quickly turned, his hand now underneath his trench coat with a firm grasp on this dagger...
It was a girl. Wearing a surgical mask? And honestly looking pretty suspicious. He could tell easily that she was up to something just from her faked posture, not to mention his immediate read on her surface emotions. Karram eyed her carefully before speaking. "May I help you?" His voice was loud enough that those inside the daycare could more than likely hear his speech. He didn't want them to be found out in the event this woman proved to be a spy for Nemsemet or what have you. His expression would remain cold and calculative as he awaited a response. Impatiently, Karram would repeat himself with a rather stern tone. "May. I. Help you?" | Name: Karram Sylian
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie)
Talents:
-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time.
-Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade.
-Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others.
-Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.)
-Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives.
-Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter.
History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own.
For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live.
Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past.
In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans).
But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees...
Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships.
Possessions:
-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic.
-Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family.
-Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon.
Yes, and:
Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued.
Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil.
(^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.) |
46,496 | 1,263 | 20 | 2,534 | 450 | Yeah, Beth, I think you and Rikive have a point. Tony, you know I'd agree with you on most things but I think Flint could be more of an asset in this situation.
And by asset, I mean he's a damn good piece of bait for all those lycans if we need to distract them. Maybe.
Though that train of thought did leave Parry a little disturbed the more he followed it. Flint was one of the better magicians in the city, had a way with modern weapons a lot of the people in the front room lacked, and to top it all off, he was permanently stuck in the 1930s Noir look- which, in Parry's opinion, was one of the best times to dress as a man in the last 150 years.
I take my previous thought back. I want Flint alive, if only to find out where he's getting all those clothes.
"So Tony, I'm ready to lock up and leave whenever you-"
Which was, of course, when the light bulbs in the foyer, living room, kitchen, bathroom - really every light bulb in the building - shifted from natural white to a tinted Blue. A neat trick, but they weren't Hue bulbs (except the ones in Parry's bedroom, and that was just so he could observe his outfits before going clubbing). Nope.
Someone outside had set off the first Wards. Warning lights, mostly, that someone had stepped on Parry's front lawn with intent to kill.
Defcon 1.
All hands on deck.
"Oh, for FUCK'S SAKE!" Parry shrieked as the light shift finished. Drawing his fairy sword again in one smooth motion and making for the door, he nodded for Rikive to take up position behind him. "I am not gonna die in here with Dirty Harry, Shaft the Tiger, and the Ghost of Christmas Past! Tony, go get the fucking cars."
Parry didn't wait to see if the Norse demi-goddess was behind him or not before opening the door. And there he stood, six feet tall, rail thin, dressed in Armani, a diaper bag over his shoulder and a silver sword raised in one arm, looking at-
- a true fairy. Karram. Always impeccably dressed. Fae were the only creatures that gave PArry a run for his money in the fashion and looks departments. Karram's designer labels could always one-up him on certain occasions and the Celestial resented him for it. But what was he doing with the drab, trenchcoat wearing, black-on-black-on-black-on-black girl.
"Oh, Karram. Join the gods-damned party. Is this your girlfriend? Honey, no, all that leather! So not you! How many cows died for that horrid outfit. Lets get you to the West Side mall for some-"
Wards.
Intent to kill.
Demon mummy.
Can change her wardrobe later.
Must focus!
"Right," Parry said, snapping his train of thought off. "Which one of you came here to murder me?"
To be fair, the Wards only detected intent to harm on the premises. They didn't necessarily imply that Parry was the target. But being it was his property, and Parry thought of himself as the center of all life, happiness, fashion and trends in this horrid city, it wasn't too far an assumption for him to make. | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,497 | 1,263 | 21 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint ignored the casual remarks aimed his way, he wasn’t here to persuade anyone, and he was just offering his services for what he thought was the greater good. Tony enjoyed bugging him, even the nickname ‘whitey’ added a childishness to his family name which he hated.
As more people entered the building, the more Flint knew he needed to leave, with or without the current group. He stood up and pocketed the silver coin as he began to speak.
“Well it’s up to you guys, I’m not making you go anywhere, and if any lycanthropes come around I will deal with them personally”
Flint’s voice was plagued with a hint of self-doubt at the last comment. He was confident he could take down one were-being, as long as he wasn’t taken by surprise, but more than that and he wasn’t so sure. The ferocity of the attacks, and the speed and power. Flint preferred not to think about it. It was times like this that the weight of the revolver under his arm was reassuring.
Around this thought the lights tinted blue, Flint was confused, but realised what the situation meant when Parry exclaimed aloud. At that moment Flint’s first instinct was to go for his gun, but Tony and the rest didn’t take too kindly to that last time so instead he flicked his wrist and a fist sized flame began to hover a inch above his palm. He held it there as the door opened and idle chit chat continued.
Flint was heavily confused by Parry’s tone, and wasn’t sure what was to happen next. He decided to walk next to Parry, fireball in hand, and see who was outside. Waiting for what to do next in the new situation. He recognised the man at the door, but could not quite remember from where. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,498 | 1,263 | 22 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Hey man, don't look at me. I didn't bring a Mormon van along. I came here in a Toyota because... well, because his usual ride was just a little too easy to tail and he wasn't expecting to stick around and grab people.
He raised an eyebrow at surgical mask girl and made sure to clear the line of sight and fire between him and Flint, just in case. He did it with just a bit of a smirk, but managed to hold off on gesturing with a flourish, like a matador letting a bull through. Suddenly, they had bigger problems than Flint and some hitter at the doorstep; there was a familiar sound that wasn't quite a shotgun blast, and then the shriek of a rocket.
"DOWN DOWN DOWN!" he yelled even as he dove for ground and he didn't give a fuck what got broken when he went for the best cover he could locate in a pinch -- the memories were there and so were the reflexes, but it wasn't aimed for them. Still, the concussion from the blasts cracked and broke windows and rocked a building not designed to actually withstand a B-40 or something goddamn close to it. He didn't know who he yanked down hard to the ground like that, but it was the old infantryman's reflex, and it brought back all the bad memories.
Instead, his car went up. It took a few tries to blow one of the other cars, but apparently they had goddamn rockets to spare. Not to mention the ammo; Tony tried to peek over a window a bit and the suppression fire started.
It was an attack with an utter disregard for the Concealment Edict, but it was effective and kept the fighting at a range -- the supernatural community tended to work with swords and claws, maybe handguns at most, not heavy weaponry. Whoever designed the attack knew that outright urban combat was way outside of the expectations and preparations of the supernatural community. It was the rare member of it that prepared for attacks that belonged in Khost Province, Afghanistan here in New Camden.
"Parael, you got a back door out of this fuckin' place, man?" He howled over the din, because the guys firing the shit weren't gonna hear what they had to say anyway; they must have been fifty yards away at least, probably more. You had to be loud to be heard in a fight, and that's why Tony was shouting. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,499 | 1,263 | 23 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint had only seconds to react, and in that second he was back in the trenches, shells hitting around him, the fear of gas attacks at any moment. His reflexes only had a moment to kick in and luckily he didn’t waste them shitting his pants.
Flint was down on the floor, bringing Parry down with him as a barricade of pure stone erupted through the floorboards of the room. It wasn’t enough to stop the rocket, but it kept Flint and those around him in one piece. The fire in his hand had quickly extinguished when he had grabbed parry and Flint rushed for his revolver, hoping his car down the street hadn’t been a target. He popped his head up only for it to nearly be blown off, he had no idea where the fire was coming from and knew the house didn’t have much left for structural integrity.
He raised a few more dirt barricades which began to be peppered and broken down almost instantly, he rapidly fired his revolver into a general direction, more than likely hitting nothing but possibly making the other side keep their heads down.He began to reload as he yelled to the others
“My car should be down the street, round the corner. It probably isn’t there anymore but it might be worth a shot, unless anyone else has a better idea”
By the time he finished he was fully loaded and firing off some more blind shots, the noise of the gun booming with its high caliber loads, wishing he had brought one of his sten gun’s. He soon began to calculate that he was probably the only one here with a long range weapon, and that made him regret even more not bringing more guns. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,500 | 1,263 | 24 | 2,377 | 482 | The change in light came as an interesting development. Beth had not the slightest idea how Parael's wards worked, or even what kinds of wards he placed over the building. But of course whatever he did had to have some sort of flair, even minor as the blue light was. No matter what happened, they could place their trust in that at least. The knowledge of yet another presence outside, and one that carried unsavoury intentions, sparked a desire in her to ditch the meat suit. A desire which grew stronger when Parael drew his sword and made for the door, followed by a lit up Flint.
Wait-- what had he called her? The Ghost of Christmas Past, how original.
I resent that, Beth thought but withheld from speaking. She put away "Dirty Harry" for use another day, though. Increasingly aware of her meat suit's uselessness in the event of a fight, she marched off in search of a back room. She would never dream of abandoning a body in Parael's place of work, even in times such as these, but the street outside would have to do.
The back door was quite easy to find via a storeroom, and with the boys providing a distraction, she slipped out into the cold air. She walked a short way from the building, keeping it in her sights, and deposited the body behind a dumpster. "Sorry old man," she muttered to the unconscious fellow slumped against the brick wall. Freed from the limitations of a physical form, Beth turned back towards the building.
That was when the blast shook the ground she stood on. Her instinct was to become intangible, and she did. Her body passed through a collection of bins on its way down. She fell into the ground and reappeared some way from the front of the daycare center. Flames engulfed cars on the opposite side of the street and bits of debris slid across the ground towards her. Beth couldn't see who started firing the shots through the black smoke, but she felt a bullet zip through her form. She dove behind the nearest wall and tried to focus on their energies. | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,501 | 1,263 | 25 | 2,356 | 5,042 | Rikive covered her ears against the sharp shriek the filled the air. Were they being attacked by a banshee? The thought just crossed her mind when she was savagely pulled onto the ground. She covered her head after the explosion shook the ground like an earthquake, bits of plaster and glass falling on her head. As the loud gunfire rang out she removed her arms to look around the room at her companions. They all seemed alive, for now.
She knew and understood gun's well by now, many television programs seemed fascinated with them. But those punny weapons were weak and cowardly; as a Norse deity she would not be cowed by such dishonorable weapons. If mortals could be hit with these and continue fighting as they had on television, then she could as well!
"Bloody, cowards!" She growled, getting her hands underneath her. "Why do they not fight us face to face!? I will cut off their-" As she spoke she started to get up and one bullet slammed into her shoulder. It exploded out the other side, spraying her blood on the floor. Fiery pain erupted across her torso and she quickly dropped back down to the ground before she was hit again, her hand gripping the wound. "Fucking...bastards! Cowards!" She gritted her teeth, feeling her body starting to heal the injury but by the nine worlds it hurt! She had once been ran through with a sword and the pain had been nothing like this! | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
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