banjoanjo

Strange Gospel: An Urban Fantasy RP

Hoshitani Yuuga

Name: Hoshitani Yuuga (星谷 優雅)
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Appearance: The prettiest boy.

Simply put, Yuuga is really, really, ridiculously good looking. Equipped with a natural height and a flawless skincare regime, the 183cm tall boy is quite the dazzling sight to behold when he strolls down the hallways. His naturally black hair has been grown to a length slightly above his shoulders. (If anyone were to watch him for an extended period of time, they’d notice that he seems to swish it around super frequently for a dude.) He occasionally ties it into a low ponytail, for kyudo practice mostly. Alternates between glasses and contacts, depending on what he's doing and what look he's trying to pull off. Every morning his uniform is meticulously arranged to look casual yet classy, the top two buttons of his shirt left open and his tie in a loose knot below his collar. His sleeves are left unrolled though. He’d rather not tread that line between looking casual and looking like a delinquent. (He has a reputation to uphold, after all.) Yuuga sometimes wears a light, woollen jumper over his school shirt.

Personality:

Years of active socialization has honed Yuuga’s amiability to a sharp and shining point. He’s laid-back, that’s for sure. Charming too. Classmates will find that he’s a boy who smiles a lot more easily than others (“No one likes a sadsack, right?”), more willing to help with small favors, and all around just a swell guy. He’s likable, to the point where it’s kinda eerie sometimes.

It’s not an uncommon thing to find that Yuuga is a bit… too much at times. People who aren’t swept away by his charm view him as a narcissistic try-hard, some kind of faker behind that dashing veneer. The try-hard part’s not entirely untrue. In the name of preserving his reputation, Yuuga will more often than not go out of his way to do the more undesirable tasks people push onto him. He wouldn’t hurt anyone though, no way. Small tasks, like staying behind to help with festival preparations or filling in for the soccer club. Things like that, he can do. If you have an annoying chore to do and subtly mention how good it’d make him look, Yuuga will dive into that work with the grace of a swan. In other words, play it right and he’ll be a total pushover.

The narcissist part is far from the truth though. Sure, he’s petty and image absorbed. Sure, he gives his hair a touch up whenever he passes a reflective surface. But Yuuga doesn’t think that highly of himself. He knows his faults, knows that all his popularity came from excessive amounts of behind the scenes work. He knows that unlike the natural extroverts and good-lookers in his clique, he needs to work hard to maintain his status. Because in high school, in this world of all-encompassing social media, reputation is everything. Average losers who don’t conceal their mediocrity behind smiles and sociable personalities fall behind. That can’t happen. Yuuga won’t let that happen.

Skills:

Extensive knowledge of skincare products and routines. Barely above average grades and below average athletic ability, much to his chagrin. Godlike selfie game. Quite detail oriented. Proficient in kyudo, having done it since middle school, though his skills are nothing awe-inspiring. Fairly good at household chores such as laundry and cooking.

Equipment:

Smartphone, usually in his pants pocket. Apart from the standard school supplies, his schoolbag contains his glasses case with cleaning cloth, lip balm, comb, and selfie stick.

Soul Arts:

Grand Reversal: His Soul Art is inserted into the base of his neck, just above the sternum. Yuuga gains the ability to control or negate friction within a 10 meter radius. Applications of this ability can include making it easier to climb walls or rock faces, sending charging enemies slipping past, and making a dynamic and flashy entrance with Yuuga gracefully sliding into the scene.

Brief Backstory:

Yuuga was born to an infuriatingly average family, an only child with a stay-at-home mother and a salary-man father. Elementary school was… fine. He went through the usual motions, making a reasonable number of friends, trying out hobbies, thinking about girls. Nothing exceptional, nothing terrible. Life was a stagnant, horizontal line on a plane. Nothing ever stood out. He wouldn't have been able to accept it if he never became more than what he was destined to always be, if the rest of his life was a death sentence of relentless mediocrity. So he rewrote himself.

A look in the mirror told him that he was pretty alright-looking. With some hard work he could turn it, himself, into something spectacular. He started grooming himself, taking care of his diet and face. He joined the kyudo club. He started talking more, laughing to jokes that weren’t all that funny but made the others feel like laughing was the right thing to do. And it worked. People, girls even, started noticing him. Eating lunch with him. Inviting him to group chats and karaoke hangouts. It was everything he’d dreamed. So he continued the hard work.

By the time high school rolled around, Yuuga had successfully cemented his place in the popular cliques. Keeping up with social media was the only sensible thing to do in his position so joining Strange Gospel was a given. Of course, he’d dropped it once all that creepy stuff started happening. But with the disappearances connected to that cursed app happening around him, Yuuga can’t help be feel spooked. Already, he’d heard news of distant friends of friends going missing. Would he or someone he knew be next?

Strange Gospel: An Urban Fantasy RP

@VitaVitaAR
Sorry for the late submission. Here ya go.

Hoshitani Yuuga

Name: Hoshitani Yuuga (星谷 優雅)
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Appearance: The prettiest boy.

Simply put, Yuuga is really, really, ridiculously good looking. Equipped with a natural height and a flawless skincare regime, the 183cm tall boy is quite the dazzling sight to behold when he strolls down the hallways. His naturally black hair has been grown to a length slightly above his shoulders. (If anyone were to watch him for an extended period of time, they’d notice that he seems to swish it around super frequently for a dude.) He occasionally ties it into a low ponytail, for kyudo practice mostly. Alternates between glasses and contacts, depending on what he's doing and what look he's trying to pull off. Every morning his uniform is meticulously arranged to look casual yet classy, the top two buttons of his shirt left open and his tie in a loose knot below his collar. His sleeves are left unrolled though. He’d rather not tread that line between looking casual and looking like a delinquent. (He has a reputation to uphold, after all.) Yuuga sometimes wears a light, woollen jumper over his school shirt.

Personality:

Years of active socialization has honed Yuuga’s amiability to a sharp and shining point. He’s laid-back, that’s for sure. Charming too. Classmates will find that he’s a boy who smiles a lot more easily than others (“No one likes a sadsack, right?”), more willing to help with small favors, and all around just a swell guy. He’s likable, to the point where it’s kinda eerie sometimes.

It’s not an uncommon thing to find that Yuuga is a bit… too much at times. People who aren’t swept away by his charm view him as a narcissistic try-hard, some kind of faker behind that dashing veneer. The try-hard part’s not entirely untrue. In the name of preserving his reputation, Yuuga will more often than not go out of his way to do the more undesirable tasks people push onto him. He wouldn’t hurt anyone though, no way. Small tasks, like staying behind to help with festival preparations or filling in for the soccer club. Things like that, he can do. If you have an annoying chore to do and subtly mention how good it’d make him look, Yuuga will dive into that work with the grace of a swan. In other words, play it right and he’ll be a total pushover.

The narcissist part is far from the truth though. Sure, he’s petty and image absorbed. Sure, he gives his hair a touch up whenever he passes a reflective surface. But Yuuga doesn’t think that highly of himself. He knows his faults, knows that all his popularity came from excessive amounts of behind the scenes work. He knows that unlike the natural extroverts and good-lookers in his clique, he needs to work hard to maintain his status. Because in high school, in this world of all-encompassing social media, reputation is everything. Average losers who don’t conceal their mediocrity behind smiles and sociable personalities fall behind. That can’t happen. Yuuga won’t let that happen.

Skills:

Extensive knowledge of skincare products and routines. Barely above average grades and below average athletic ability, much to his chagrin. Godlike selfie game. Quite detail oriented. Proficient in kyudo, having done it since middle school, though his skills are nothing awe-inspiring. Fairly good at household chores such as laundry and cooking.

Equipment:

Smartphone, usually in his pants pocket. Apart from the standard school supplies, his schoolbag contains his glasses case with cleaning cloth, lip balm, comb, and selfie stick.

Soul Arts:

Grand Reversal: His Soul Art is inserted into the base of his neck, just above the sternum. Yuuga gains the ability to control or negate friction within a 10 meter radius. Applications of this ability can include making it easier to climb walls or rock faces, sending charging enemies slipping past, and making a dynamic and flashy entrance with Yuuga gracefully sliding into the scene.

Brief Backstory:

Yuuga was born to an infuriatingly average family, an only child with a stay-at-home mother and a salary-man father. Elementary school was… fine. He went through the usual motions, making a reasonable number of friends, trying out hobbies, thinking about girls. Nothing exceptional, nothing terrible. Life was a stagnant, horizontal line on a plane. Nothing ever stood out. He wouldn't have been able to accept it if he never became more than what he was destined to always be, if the rest of his life was a death sentence of relentless mediocrity. So he rewrote himself.

A look in the mirror told him that he was pretty alright-looking. With some hard work he could turn it, himself, into something spectacular. He started grooming himself, taking care of his diet and face. He joined the kyudo club. He started talking more, laughing to jokes that weren’t all that funny but made the others feel like laughing was the right thing to do. And it worked. People, girls even, started noticing him. Eating lunch with him. Inviting him to group chats and karaoke hangouts. It was everything he’d dreamed. So he continued the hard work.

By the time high school rolled around, Yuuga had successfully cemented his place in the popular cliques. Keeping up with social media was the only sensible thing to do in his position so joining Strange Gospel was a given. Of course, he’d dropped it once all that creepy stuff started happening. But with the disappearances connected to that cursed app happening around him, Yuuga can’t help be feel spooked. Already, he’d heard news of distant friends of friends going missing. Would he or someone he knew be next?

St. Fortuna's Academy for the Higher Arts

@Invader Len @onenote @The Errorist

This is my familiar character I've been working on for a while but if you're in desperate need for a mage then I'm cool with changing.

𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚔𝚊 '𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚎' 𝚅𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚑

𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚔𝚊 '𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚎' 𝚅𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚑


𝚂𝚒𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗


𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎


𝙱𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕


𝙵𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛


-𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍-


-𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍-

Frankie's never been good at connecting with people. She's tried, but she's given up on it. People have described her as broody, arrogant, snobbish, and even those few who she considers superficial friends see her as distant. Those who don't know her say that she has an air of mystery; there's something undeniably attractive about her, but the more people get to know her the more people recognize her for what she is: Someone who simply doesn't know what to do about other people. She learned young that people around her will use her for her money, and she's never been sure if she's okay with that or not. A part of her wants to have a real, genuine friend, but another part of her is perfectly okay with buying whatever pale imitation of that relationship people will provide. More often than not this conflict of desires makes her appear abrasive and distant, her inabillity to decide on how to interact with people causing her to revert to her default state- that of a contemptuous rich girl.

However, despite her gruff exterior Frankie does have her moments of genuine humanity. When the part of her that wants to connect with people comes out she very nearly becomes the person she wants to be- a warm, caring girl that is genuinely likeable. Indeed, deep inside her is a nice person. Like an onion, Frankie has layers. Beyond her desire to be a better person, or perhaps because of it, Frankie does feel some sort of deep sadness. She's never been able to pinpoint it, but she knows that there's something about her life that she's deeply unsatisfied with. Perhaps she merely wants someone to tell her no. There was a time where she had that someone, but now she's desperately trying to establish that very same relationship again.

Still, despite this, there are other qualities that define her. She has a strong sense of pride in the Vrodiskovich name, believing her family's history to be one of the most important thing about her. She's also a perfectionist, always conducting herself in a way that lives up to the aforementioned name. Although some would say that she lords over others with her status she believes it to be a natural extension of her and her family's superiority- she's a Vrodiskovich, after all.





Born to a rich family in Maefeld spanning generations, she had everything she could ever want since the day she was born. Whether it be toys, food, or clothes, there was nothing she was refused. One sweltering summer day, when her bodyguards were as tired as her maids, she slipped their heat-dulled eyes to roam the city on her own despite clear and constant instruction throughout her life to never venture the streets alone.

She was one of the Vrodiskovichs after all; taking care of herself would be easy.

Or so she had thought to herself in all the arrogance of childhood.

Predictably, Franceska lost herself in the huge city with nothing but money in her pockets and starkly opulent clothes on her back. She was too proud to admit her mistake however, and too proud to ask for help from anyone else in the city--not when she looked so wealthy it would shame the silk trim and semiprecious stones on her coat to stoop as low as requesting assistance from less affluent citizens. It was then that Bailey, a young girl about her age, approached the lost aristocrat with nary a glance for her finery and only concern for the panic lining Franceska's features. There was something about that girl that captured her attention. Franceska had simply ordered her to find out where her parents were, but the girl simply refused with a smile on her face, calmly explaining why she couldn't: she had no idea where they were, after all.

Bailey simply kept her company until her servants finally located her, chatting about her pet cat (Sticker) and her annoying little brother who kept pouring all her shampoo down the drain whenever they argued. Pointless things, but they kept Franceska from panicking. Helped prop up the veneer she was trying so hard to maintain, even at that age. And it was the first time Franceska had ever been refused anything, unreasonable demand or otherwise, and the first time she had ever felt that angry. But--regardless of how much she tried insulting and berating Bailey with a tantrum fit for five, regardless of how irritating it was that the girl treated her (a Vrodiskovich!) like she wasn't anything special--Franceska took a shine to her.

A rough, unpolished shine that would only grow brighter as the years passed.

Sometimes, in the quiet hours of night, just before sleep took her away, Franceska would dare to admit they were friends.

They remained steadfast friends for years. But nothing lasts forever.

A year before Franceska enrolled in St. Fortuna's, Bailey's family fell on hard times. Life happens and small restaurants sometimes fail, something Bailey did her best to hide until her family couldn't bear the weight of debt any longer and decided to sell the house. Of course Franceska found out--it was bound to happen sooner or later, especially when her best friend started packing to move.

She had offered money with good intentions (that was her allowance money, after all). She really had. It wasn't because she was rich and flaunting her wealth. It wasn't because she was trying to prove something. It wasn't because she was trying to show Bailey exactly how deep the chasm was between their lives.

"I'm not pitying you! Why are you--"

She just wanted her friend to stay near. Was that so wrong?

It never made sense to her (and she struggled with comprehending even now) why Bailey looked so angry that day. Why she had thrown a stack of cash back at Franceska's face like it was garbage. And after all the trouble she had gone through to withdraw that money and pack it into a tidy suitcase, too. It was supposed to have helped. So why did it look like she had broken Bailey's heart?

She didn't understand then, so she had only followed the one emotion that made any sense: fury.

Words flew like bullets and accusations cut to the core of their friendship. By the time she slapped Bailey across the face while parroting a line from her father about people needing to know their place, Franceska hadn't even realized her hand had moved.

It was the last time she saw her childhood friend. Bailey refused to talk to her again after that. Refused to answer the door whenever she tried to visit.

Soon enough, the family had moved away from the high living costs of the metropolis and Franceska had convinced herself by then that she simply didn't care enough to find out where. She didn't need Bailey. Hell, she didn't even need a friend.

She was a Vrodiskovich after all; taking care of herself would be easy.

𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎, 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜, 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚊𝚙 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎 (𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 "𝚛𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚕" 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝).

𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢.

𝚅𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚜. 𝚂𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑. 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙴𝚛𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝-𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚕 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎.

𝚆𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜.

𝙿𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚊- 𝚒𝚌𝚔! 𝙰𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛.

𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎--𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜.

𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜--𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜.

𝙷𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚜, 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢. 𝚂𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚌.

Proficiency	Intelligence	. Athletics.
5	4	1

𝙻𝚎𝚏𝚝-𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍.

𝙰𝚠𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍.

𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚘, 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗.

𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚘 𝙿𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

Franceska's Quiz Answers

1. What is your character's greatest regret?
Losing her childhood friend over an argument. She doesn't want to think it was over money. Money solves everything. It can't be the reason she lost Bailey.

2. Your character is home alone after watching a horror movie and they hear a strange sound. What do they do?
Call for the servants. No, she doesn't care if today's their holiday break and they're at home, they need to come back and check out that sound now or she'll tell her parents to fire them.

3. Two of your characters’ friends are fighting over something trivial, and they want them to stop. How do they go about this?
Tell them to shut up and take them to the best restaurant in town. Overpriced food and tiny portions that someone else is paying for always puts people in better moods. At least, that's what her parents taught her. And her friends should be grateful that Frankie even keeps them around with the way they loaf about like... undesirables. Their state of dress doesn't do them any favors, either.

4. While your character is on their way to class, they realize they forgot something crucial. They’re already on the verge of running late. What do they do?
Throw more of her servants at the problem. It's their fault that she left without it in the first place, isn't it?

5. If your character had the opportunity to turn into any animal, what would that animal be?
A mountain goat, the kind that can climb even the most vertical of slopes and is obviously the leader of that mountain goat pack. If Frankie was a goat, nothing could stand in her way. Literally.

6. If your character’s house were on fire, and they only had time to save one thing from their room, what would it be?
Her family crest, a black goat on a green field. This crest has been passed down the Vrodiskovich family line for over three hundred years. It symbolizes bravery and the overcoming of adversity, even if most of the time the family overcame adversity by just throwing money at it until adversity caved in and raised its hands in surrender.

7. What season does your character like best and why?
Winter. She loves the sight of fresh-fallen snow and the gentle, quiet atmosphere of the season.

8. Vacation! You character gets to spend a week anywhere! Where is it and what do they do?
Somewhere far away from everything she wishes she was and isn't. Her family hunting lodge comes to mind often, a huge, secluded mansion out in the mountains where she could hunt, read or just enjoy nature at her leisure.

St. Fortuna's Academy for the Higher Arts

Hi, I'm interested in joining this RP.

Is it still open, and if it is, would you guys prefer a new mage or familiar character from me?

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Ernest Mars

---

𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔹𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔹 / / ~𝟙𝟡𝟘𝟘

---

It all seemed to happen in an instant. First he was shrugging off Allison's cold response to his shit apology. Then he was chatting with Rain. Then...

Ernie found himself looking up at Building B, an uncharacteristically loose bundle of his clothes, some papers and his tomahawk in his frozen hands. At least his feet remembered the way back. His mind was far too busy processing whatever the fuck just happened. The silence smothered him as he entered the dorm, the emptiness serving only to letting his thoughts and doubts surge through the mental floodgates.

What the hell.

The Aberration stepped hurriedly through his room. He unfolded the laundry basket from his luggage, tossing his weapon and Rain's paperwork onto the desk and his damp pants into the basket. After a moment's reconsideration, the pants were picked back up. Who knew what sort of gross bacteria was in that stale water? They needed to be washed immediately. The Aberration dorms here didn't have their own freaking bathrooms so he'd need to handwash them in the communal area. The area shared by the dozens of filthy, mentally unstable teens in the same apartment building. Ernie glowered violently while he went through his bags.

That pink-haired girl actually tried to escape! Seriously gave a shit about Ernie's stupid jabs. Seriously just went... somewhere, and disappeared, leaving nothing but a bunch of confused guards and distraught staff mages in her wake. Yes, that was it. Just a dumb magic act. Rain probably dropped down into the sewers from the first match and made a break for it. USARILN security would find that reckless idiot in no time, probably cuff her with four limiters this time. It was a wonder how that whole mess even managed to happen.

This was the scenario Ernie satisfied his wandering mind with as he took a quick shower and washed his pants. He didn't let himself remember Rosa's sobbing form on the ground as Fredric harshly dismissed them. He didn't think about Rain's intangibility. He didn't connect the dots between Rain needing to hold her breath to go through things and dropping through the ground and falling through that dark rock and what would happen if her breath ran out and...

Ernie slammed the faucet. His shower was done. Even after seven months outside of the lounge, Ernie's showers never lasted longer than five minutes. He packed his various soaps and fabric detergents and carried his shower pack back to the dorm, now dressed in a casual t-shirt and sweatpants combination. The newly washed pants were hung in the closet. The shower pack stayed on his desk, next to the manila folder Rain had given him before...

A quick flip through showed that it was just a bunch of profiles of people in his class, including ones of him and 'Rain le Blanc'. Other than the full names provided, it was useless to Ernie. He'd have to return it soon, when Rain came back. Ernie caught that line of thinking, faintly pleased that he still thought of it as a 'when' and not an 'if'. Because Rain was coming back. And Ernie hadn't done anything stupid or horribly wrong except goad a classmate into a silly prank.

The Aberration pushed the memory of Rosa's tears away. Maybe she was just bad under stressful situations! And how would she know if anything bad happened down there? Nothing bad happened to Rain. Nothing bad happened because of Ernie.

He brushed his undried hair and wrangled it into a rough ponytail before heading out to dinner. The scratching in his chest had long since been sated by Allison's injury, replaced by uncertainty instead. The uneasiness and guilt rising in him would hopefully be quelled by a full stomach.

Strange Gospel: An Urban Fantasy RP

Real life's been keeping me occupied.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Ernest Mars

---

𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕆𝕦𝕥𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕥: 𝕆𝕓𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℝ𝕠𝕠𝕞 𝟙 / / ~𝟙𝟠𝟛𝟘

---

He'd woken up groggy and irritated and in pants that weren't his. Huh.

Ernie groaned quietly, rolling in the temporary cot. He remembered feeling... damp, the stagnant water lapping at his face and ruining his clothes. Totally gross. Was that stuff even filtered properly? That kind of shit was exactly what caused moldy surfaces. He remembered being unable to move, unable to let out anything but a small moan as his nerves worked to regain their senses. All he could do was watch. Really ugly walls. The walls of the house. Weird decor. He hadn't noticed that when they were running to the safe point.

The paramedics had put him on a stretcher. His remaining teammates were... naked? What even happened there? There was a short, blond boy. He'd unwrapped his hand and a mist flew out, making the part on Ernie's leg where he'd gotten tazed feel a lot nicer. Then all of them had been taken inside. Which was where he was now.

Ernie sat up quickly and immediately felt dizziness rush to his head. Ugh, go slower. He was back in the observation room with Team 3 and 4, with everyone clothed thankfully. Ernie himself was wearing a blue pyjama suit. Snazzy. Comfortable. But not his. He didn't like wearing this outfit. His clothes were in a folded pile by his cot, the arrangement too sloppy for his standards. A lotta stuff to take in. But there were other things in the room that required his attention. Namely, the screens displaying every angle of the fight.

There was so much more chaos than what he'd actually seen. Team 3 had been an absolute mess fighting Gregory on the top floor, while Team 4 had been scrambling like idiots trying to get to the roof. Thank god Brent had taken so long to climb. If they'd engaged Team 3 any sooner, they probably would've gotten much worse than a building falling under their feet. Which brought another important point to his attention.

He'd gotten the wrong girl. The one with the bangs, Hazel, was more of a monster than he'd known. More than anyone on his team had expected, probably. It was more than just telekinesis. It was outright erasure. Ernie shuddered, suddenly thankful that he had been too busy snoring on that murky, flooded floor to go up against that beast. However, that meant that he'd impaled someone's face for no reason. He swore it seemed like a good idea at the time. It felt good, that's for sure.

"Allison!" he called flatly to the girl and, with a limp point of his index finger, indicated at his own face, "Sorry about your eye. I got the wrong person."

If he sounded insincere, it was because he was. It was just common courtesy, nothing he actually wanted to put effort into. He was too preoccupied with watching the game to generate any sort of sympathy for the girl he'd horrifically injured. It was incredible how lucky he was to avoid having to fight the majority of the other team. The reminder that he'd missed his chance to skip classes for a week didn't even cross his mind. In all honesty, he was just glad that he made it through relatively uninjured.

Ernie rose to his feet to sit at a proper chair and continue watching, less for the fight itself and more for the personalities. He'd probably avoid most of the other team after this. These East kids were freaking mental.

@VarionusNW

Strange Gospel: An Urban Fantasy RP Interest Check and Signups

Interested.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Allison Revel | Lawrence Ellison

Emma Halwell | Ernest Mars | Savannah Churchill

---

𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔾𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 ℤ𝕖𝕣𝕠 / / 𝟙𝟠𝟘𝟜

---

_{Collab with @VarionusNW @Snagglepuss89 @Diggerton @banjoanjo @canaryrose}

---

Allison looked down at the first floor. It was an ungodly mess, likely the result of Gregory's actions, if their encounter with him was anything to go by. The floor seemed to be flooding with water, just as the bathroom from the floor Allison was currently on. Other than the water, the room was in general disarray, meaning that fighting would be difficult if it ever came to it, but movement would only be slightly more inconvenient. The main issue for the girl was that she was heading towards the wreckage of part of a building, glass and rubble guaranteed to be everywhere, and she didn't have shoes, thanks to Hazel's power.

After only a few moments of staring, Allison heard the sound of a heavy impact, and the familiar beep and zap of the cuff taking out someone who used lethal force. The girl's head snapped around immediately, to find the crumpled forms of Hazel and Brent lying on the ground. From what Allison could discern, Brent had slammed some part of a machete into the back of Hazel's head, though luckily there seemed to be no wound, so he hadn't outright killed the girl.

Allison rushed over to the two forms, though there was little she could do. She did, though, eye Brent's equipment, and specifically, his shoes. He was unconscious, and his feet didn't seem to be that much bigger than Allison's, so of course she took some liking to the idea of taking the boy's shoes. Though, it did seem like a pretty awful thing to do, just taking someone's shoes whilst they lay unconscious.

After a moment of debating with herself, Allison reached at the Brent's shoes, and pulled them off of his feet.

"Sorry, Brent." She said softly as she tied the shoes on. It was odd, wearing someone else's shoes, it felt wrong and awkward, especially to some part of her deep in the back of her head. The shoes seemed to be only slightly too large for Allison, and were comfortable enough that she didn't completely regret the decision.

After the shoes, Allison looked around at the rest of the boy's gear, tempted by the machete, and even Brent's gun, but ultimately decided to leave those where they lay. Allison had little use for them. Instead, she ripped off each of her opponent's flags, turning to Lawrence as she did so.

"We'll need to carry Greg down by ourselves. They're probably still by the bathroom." Allison's words were quick and dull.

Lawrence, for his part, was kneeling next to her, checking Hazel's pulse on the ground. He had no doubt that Brent and Zoe were fine after their shocks- USARILN East had a lot of practice making sure their methods weren't lethal. Overall, this clusterfuck of a team game had gone south incredibly quickly. Had the staff scheduled it too soon after their first combat mission? Whether by stress or misfortune, this was quickly turning into a bad idea.

Still, unless Brent's blow was fatal, Hazel would probably wake up in a few minutes. It wasn't the first person Lawrence had seen knocked out- and thankfully it looked like for the moment she wasn't going to join the list of people he'd seen killed as well. As far as Allison looting the other team while he did this- he didn't really have an opinion. In fact, he took a minute to strip the boy of his pants- the only real piece of clothing worth taking- while Allison spoke to him.

Finally, he grabbed the boy's weapons that his teammate had neglected before answering her:

"If she's not dying, Hazel should be with us again in a few minutes. If she is dying, they'll probably stop the game in order to treat her. We have an injured healer, one we don't know the location of, and as far as we know we're outnumbered three-to-two right now. If we go down there and get jumped we're going to have our hands tied by carrying that dead weight on top of being outnumbered."

Finally, moving to check on Gregory, he added:

"We should defend here, guard the healer we already have, and buy time for Hazel to come to. Do you think your power can destroy Emma's things when she comes at us with them?"

"Probably." Allison said, halfheartedly. "And if Hazel doesn't wake up in time?"

"Then she doesn't wake up."

He said simply, before looking at Brent's gun and shrugging.

"Look, if I could use lethal force- not that I want to- there's plenty of options for wiping out the other team with just you and me. We have to look at this realistically though- we have you and me. That's it. If we lose this game- missions get bungled. Right now our mission is bungled, and the priority is salvaging as much as we can."

With an added sigh he ran a hand through his hair and continued:

"The main lesson here is teamwork. If we were in the field right now we have no idea if our healer is still alive, but we do know Hazel is. Our focus at this point should be staying alive, and keeping her alive- while guarding the objective we managed to capture. If we can't apply this game to a real world mission then... there's no goddamn point to it."

"Alright then." Allison got up from her place next to Lawrence and the unconscious pair, and moved closer to the edge of the floor. She stood idly, watching for any signs of the other team.

Hoping his message had gotten through to the girl Lawrence made his way over to their overly violent captive, pants in hand. At least this way if he did manage to wake up and try to fight back again like an idiot later on in the match he'd be robbed of both his legs and arms.

”...ou there?”

What?

A short investigation revealed something him and Allison had missed a minute ago- Brent's phone- shoved into the pocket of his pants. Shoved into the pocket of his pants and broadcasting the other team's chatter. With the first bit of good fortune since this match started- Lawrence set it next to the body of their captured healer. Then, making sure to broadcast as little noise as possible to the other team- began preparing to tie up their prisoner.

Listening all the while.

-----------------

MEANWHILE:

Ernie's foot shot out and dislodged the last piece of wood needed to create a small entrance. Far too long. With people like Team 3 on the loose above them, he couldn't afford to lose his shit like that again. He needed efficiency. With exhausted breaths, Ernie pulled himself through and crab-walked his way under the table.

"Stay close," he instructed Savannah quietly, "If we get split up now, we're screwed."

His boots tread carefully across the half-flooded floor. Thank god he got his footwear back. Going shoeless through a battlefield was bad enough but doing it through all this would have short-circuited him. The floor itself looked like it'd be bitch to search. Already, it seemed like a mini-maze. Ernie didn't like the number of corners he would have to turn. Too many potential traps lying in wait. He tugged the table to the side to clear their possible exit route, but also to make the most of their current resources.

"Sav," he pointed to the small room that was closest to the way they entered, "Could you check that for me? And maybe the kitchen too."

While the girl searched, Ernie hacked at the table's legs. If Team 3 wasn't pulling their punches, then his own team needed everything they could get. It only took one or two chops for the legs to detach, much faster than the door. One for Savannah, one for him, and one for Emma. Brent already had his own weapon. Plus, there wasn't really a way for Ernie to hand it to the Arbiter teammate. The table rested on its side now.

"Thwacking stick. For you." When the girl emerged from her initial search, she was greeted with a makeshift wooden weapon about two feet long. Ernie decided to give her the second one too. He wanted his hands to be as free as possible. "That one's for Emma, when we find her."

Savannah crawled into the house with more ease than Ernie had, due to her stature. The house was wrecked. Who had done this? One of the healers? She hadn't recalled Team 3 having gone to the first floor, so it must have been them. If she had to take a guess, it would have been Gregory. From what she recalled when they had met, Sophia was not the type of person to go around wrecking rooms. Or, at least, that's the impression Savannah had gotten from her. Sophia hadn't talked much.

Savannah mock-saluted at Ernie when he gave her the instructions. She ran off into the smaller room, checking it pretty thoroughly. Just like the other rooms, it was wrecked, but no one was there. She checked the kitchen as well, but that yielded no results. She came back to the hallway, and was about to say that she found nothing when Ernie gave her a stick.

You were actually serious about that?" she asked. "I didn't find anything."

"We need to be prepared," was the only explanation he gave. He gestured silently to indicate that they were going to make their way through the house, "Did you check the fridge and cupboards too?"

"I don't think she could hide in there." Savannah replied. Ernie merely nodded in return. They could always check on the way back.

Emma was finally ready to move. ”Okay, you can put me down now.” She said, glancing down at the Tulpa below her.

Unfortunately, Love took her order rather literally.

Instead of gently floating down she was dropped suddenly. She hit the ground hard, wind knocked out of her. ”Shit. So much for my sweet landing.” she groaned to herself. She got up, dusting herself off. She reached for her phone, thoughts on what Brent had said. Find Sophia, get her out. Seemed sensible, but first she was concerned with regrouping with Sav and Ernie. They wouldn’t fare well if they were caught without her. She went for her phone, ”Hey, Sav, you there?” she said. She hoped that the small girl was able to get down safely.

She wasn’t as concerned for Ernie’s safety.

"Yeah, I'm here. Did you end up falling off the roof too?" Savannah said lowly into the phone.

"Uhhhh, yeah... you alright?" Emma whispered back. Savannah was whispering, so it only felt appropriate to do the same. "And what about Ernie?" she added as an afterthought.

"I'm fine, just got a few nicks and scrapes from the glass. Ernie took the brunt of the fall, but he's fine."

Ernie took the brunt of the fall? Sweet. She commented to herself. "Alright, roger that. We should probably regroup so we can make a run for the healers. Where are you guys?"

"Ground floor. We're looking for Sophia. Near the back door."

Emma nodded to herself, "On my way, than." She responded, heading towards the building.

While Savannah was updating Emma, Ernie searched the floor. The area after the kitchen consisted of two wide rooms, nothing there that could hide a small girl besides a few stray chairs. He noted the destroyed stairs that would have prevented them from reaching the top floor had they taken a more conventional route. The bedroom was the only remaining place on the ground floor that was a possible hiding place. The closet yielded no results. Same for the adjacent bathroom. Then Ernie peeked under the bed to find Sophia's wide eyes staring back at him.

"There you are!" he whispered in relief, "We need to get you outta here."

He turned to Sav with an excited smile.

"Tell Emma we found her!"

Savannah obeyed Ernie's instructions, whispering into the phone, "Hey, Emma! We found her."

Emma was coming through the back door by the time Sav updated her. "Sweet, I'm right-" She peeked out of the kitchen towards the bedroom, "Here!" she gently called, giving a small wave as she saw the small group. She began adding up the points in her head... with no word from Brent she assumed that he had been snagged, and that would mean Team 4 was still in the lead, even with Sophia. So, to win they'd have to duke it out more? Not something she was exactly looking forward to, but there wasn't a whole lot of choice.

Ernie offered his hands to the quiet girl and pulled her out from beneath the bed. Sophia's front was completely soaked but at least she wasn't bitching dangerously loudly about her situation. Unlike another tiny girl he could mention. He beamed at Emma's arrival. So they still had a fighting chance against the monsters on the top floor.

"We gotta move fast!" Ernie hurried the two girls out of the bedroom. "Sav, give Emma the other stick."

Savannah waved back at Emma. "Heads up!" she said lowly, and once she had gotten Emma's attention she gently tossed one of the sticks to her. She then turned her attention to Ernie.

"What are we supposed to do?" she asked Ernie quietly.

"For now, just get Sophia back," he replied, trying to sound as confident as Brent did. Thinking was for other people like the Arbiter and Emma, people with powers that could actually accomplish things. He disliked this position he was in. Remembering a detail about Allison's power from the team talk in the observation room, Ernie also began dragging the houseplant they passed earlier by a handful of leaves.

Emma caught the stick with a slight fumble. She gave it a curious glance What the hell do the excpect me to do with this? she considered mirroring her question aloud, but decided that it was best to just accept it and keep moving. Emma gave a slight nod to Ernie at the mention of getting Sophia to the safe zone. They could worry about the other team later, something that Emma was perfectly fine with. "Yeah, let's get her to the safe zone." She said, gesturing for the others to follow, hurrying out the back door.

Lawrence, for his part, was in the middle of tying up their captured healer's hands just in case he decided to try and cause more problems before the match ended. On the ground next to his kneeling form was the phone he had fished out of Brent's pockets a few moments ago, still broadcasting the other team's chatter as the Arbiter worked silently. For the most part what they were saying was unimportant- although he suspected the game would have ended if Hazel's earlier attack ended up fatal for one or more of the other team- just confirmation that each of the team members that hadn't been shocked into submission was fine. Annoyingly though it did confirm that Lawrence and Allison were both outnumbered and outgunned. Figuratively of course, in the case of the latter.

"Hey, Emma! We found her."

Shit.

While he didn't expect it, Lawrence still had hoped that the other team wouldn't be able to locate Sophia before the time limit expired. Just like on a real battlefield though- shit went wrong if there was any chance at all that it could. Fantastic. With a final, frustrated pull he tightened the pants around the arms and hands of his captive before standing up and leaving the phone where it lay. It had served its purpose. With a quick pause to check Hazel's state once more he then made his way over to where Allison had taken up her watch, scratching the back of his head before explaining:

"Well, other team has Sophia, I'd say we lose this one."

If the other team had Sophia, they needed to be stopped before they got to their point. Unlike Lawrence, Allison wasn't willing to admit defeat. Sure, she wanted the battle to be over, but she couldn't allow all of the suffering to be in vain.

Allison quickly lowered herself down to the first floor. If the other team had found Sophia, they were likely still in the building. From her vantage point, Allison could see one exit with quick access to the other team's point. If they were going to head anywhere, it would hopefully be that door. Luckily, Allison seemed to be right, the sounds of footsteps were approaching below her spot at the edge of the first floor. As they approached, Allison jumped down behind them, onto a couch at the bottom of what remained of the stairs. She summoned the shard to it's full length of 6 meters as she fell.

𝕲𝖗𝖎𝖒 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖕𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝕲𝖆𝖒𝖇𝖎𝖙

@Shoryu Magami

My thoughts are pretty much identical to Snaggle's. Though the concept of this RP is very engaging, I don't think I'll be doing an RPing other than on this site. I'll be resigning if the RP moves too.

I'll be wishing you and the RP the best of luck in the future, whatever course you happen to take.