Are teleportation pads basically free for use now?
Ashifili Member
Always There
- Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
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- Ashifili 11 yrs ago
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I will remember this.
Most Recent Posts
In
Liseranna Academy For The Magically Gifted [ALWAYS ACCEPTING]
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
In
Liseranna Academy For The Magically Gifted [ALWAYS ACCEPTING]
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Waow, all these Kancolles. Now where's the Cancolle?
In
Liseranna Academy For The Magically Gifted [ALWAYS ACCEPTING]
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Important NPC like the others. You can handle her if you want.
EDIT: Haven't written a CS for Arianne yet xD
So...hao2handleNPCwithoutCS? :3
In
Liseranna Academy For The Magically Gifted [ALWAYS ACCEPTING]
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Geez, Zelosse, I thought you were already aware of Director A's angel-genociding life when you applied The Last Angel. XD
@GrafRoy ZeppeliMight be doing a library collab with you, cause Arata can't read shit and he'll probably talk with the librarian, unless said librarian is just an NPC.
@GrafRoy ZeppeliMight be doing a library collab with you, cause Arata can't read shit and he'll probably talk with the librarian, unless said librarian is just an NPC.
In
Liseranna Academy For The Magically Gifted [ALWAYS ACCEPTING]
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
What is the meaning of power?
Is it a sword to slay your enemies, or a sword to protect your friends?
Is it something that you hid out of sight, a treasure that belongs only to yourself?
Or is it something to be flaunted, a bountiful wealth to elevate your own position?
Well? What do you think?
No, you idiot. You’re talking about the usage of power.
There is no meaning to power. You gather it up, but there’s always people who have more of it.
What matters though, is that you’re satisfied with how you will never have the most.
What matters though, is that you will use your own power.
Because you are a child of Izanami-no-Mikoto, the Mother of the Land of the Rising Sun, and the Mistress of the Underworld.
And she has not breathed life into you for you to live in the shadows of another.
After all, we’re oni.
It’s not about winning or losing. It’s about fighting.
Arata opened his eyes to a scene that he was becoming more and more accustomed to. A white ceiling with fluorescent lighting, and the sharp, septic stench of rubbing alcohol. The hard, clean bed felt good against his back, and the phantom pain of his missing arm and half-dissolved chest could still be felt. The oni hurt all over, but it wasn’t a crippling pain, nothing that could stop him from getting up. Rising up with a grunt, the sun-haired boy looked to the side. Looks like Rollanda restored his clothes too, huh? His white cloak hung on a coat rack, and his shirt and shorts, purchased from a second-hand store, remained as bland and simple as always.
The oni sighed, and closed his eyes.
He could catch vestiges of his memories, the hatred and the blood, the pain and the laughter, everything mixing together in a hodgepodge of glorious and inglorious violence. It should have been enjoyable, but at the same time, it was like every other fight that he had fought since arriving at the Academy.
It was too short, too sudden, and…too pointless.
Juliann’s skill was beautiful, but he couldn’t reciprocate that.
Victarian’s power was interesting, but both of them restrained themselves.
And this last fight...could it really be called a fight?
Another long sigh, before he got out of bed, removing the hospital scrubs and pulling on his own clothes once more. Resting his once-skeletal hand on the brass coat hanger, the oni reminisced, delving into his centuries-long memories of a different time. The meaning of power, huh? In the end, regardless of how that man had responded, it still didn’t answer the central question.
For what purpose should he wield his power? Was it fine just to fight for the sake of fighting? Or was that just his instincts as a warmongering oni speaking?
He desired a hard-fought, hard-won fight against someone equal or greater to him in strength, but was that all? Would he be satisfied just with that? Back when the Night Parade was still one thousand, and they ravaged the battlefields with their iron clubs and superhuman strength, did he truly enjoy fighting the armies of man? Or did he enjoy being together with his allies?
Without thinking, Arata’s grip tightened on the coat hanger, slowly deforming it.
Too many questions once more. He was thinking too hard, and thinking too hard was pointless. With a sigh, he draped his cloak around his shoulders, pulling the hood over his horns. With heavy steps, the oni walked out of Rollanda’s hospital.
If he decided between like or dislike, he’d have to say that he still liked punching Iravis in the face.
If he decided between right and wrong, he’d have to say that he believed his own convictions and ideals were right, that there was no purpose in strength if you relied on the overbearing strength of another.
But regardless, of all that, regret still clung onto him.
He was alone, even with 999 souls dormant within him.
And, alone, he headed towards Liseranna Academy’s library.
Iravis can have her army, her champions, her servants.
Arata will show her that one doesn't need any of that if they have themselves.
Is it a sword to slay your enemies, or a sword to protect your friends?
Is it something that you hid out of sight, a treasure that belongs only to yourself?
Or is it something to be flaunted, a bountiful wealth to elevate your own position?
Well? What do you think?
No, you idiot. You’re talking about the usage of power.
There is no meaning to power. You gather it up, but there’s always people who have more of it.
What matters though, is that you’re satisfied with how you will never have the most.
What matters though, is that you will use your own power.
Because you are a child of Izanami-no-Mikoto, the Mother of the Land of the Rising Sun, and the Mistress of the Underworld.
And she has not breathed life into you for you to live in the shadows of another.
After all, we’re oni.
It’s not about winning or losing. It’s about fighting.
Arata opened his eyes to a scene that he was becoming more and more accustomed to. A white ceiling with fluorescent lighting, and the sharp, septic stench of rubbing alcohol. The hard, clean bed felt good against his back, and the phantom pain of his missing arm and half-dissolved chest could still be felt. The oni hurt all over, but it wasn’t a crippling pain, nothing that could stop him from getting up. Rising up with a grunt, the sun-haired boy looked to the side. Looks like Rollanda restored his clothes too, huh? His white cloak hung on a coat rack, and his shirt and shorts, purchased from a second-hand store, remained as bland and simple as always.
The oni sighed, and closed his eyes.
He could catch vestiges of his memories, the hatred and the blood, the pain and the laughter, everything mixing together in a hodgepodge of glorious and inglorious violence. It should have been enjoyable, but at the same time, it was like every other fight that he had fought since arriving at the Academy.
It was too short, too sudden, and…too pointless.
Juliann’s skill was beautiful, but he couldn’t reciprocate that.
Victarian’s power was interesting, but both of them restrained themselves.
And this last fight...could it really be called a fight?
Another long sigh, before he got out of bed, removing the hospital scrubs and pulling on his own clothes once more. Resting his once-skeletal hand on the brass coat hanger, the oni reminisced, delving into his centuries-long memories of a different time. The meaning of power, huh? In the end, regardless of how that man had responded, it still didn’t answer the central question.
For what purpose should he wield his power? Was it fine just to fight for the sake of fighting? Or was that just his instincts as a warmongering oni speaking?
He desired a hard-fought, hard-won fight against someone equal or greater to him in strength, but was that all? Would he be satisfied just with that? Back when the Night Parade was still one thousand, and they ravaged the battlefields with their iron clubs and superhuman strength, did he truly enjoy fighting the armies of man? Or did he enjoy being together with his allies?
Without thinking, Arata’s grip tightened on the coat hanger, slowly deforming it.
Too many questions once more. He was thinking too hard, and thinking too hard was pointless. With a sigh, he draped his cloak around his shoulders, pulling the hood over his horns. With heavy steps, the oni walked out of Rollanda’s hospital.
If he decided between like or dislike, he’d have to say that he still liked punching Iravis in the face.
If he decided between right and wrong, he’d have to say that he believed his own convictions and ideals were right, that there was no purpose in strength if you relied on the overbearing strength of another.
But regardless, of all that, regret still clung onto him.
He was alone, even with 999 souls dormant within him.
And, alone, he headed towards Liseranna Academy’s library.
Iravis can have her army, her champions, her servants.
Arata will show her that one doesn't need any of that if they have themselves.
In
Liseranna Academy For The Magically Gifted [ALWAYS ACCEPTING]
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Kay, so memory wiped or not? Working on a post right now, before I get back to studying.
In
Liseranna Academy For The Magically Gifted [ALWAYS ACCEPTING]
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Waow, you're just going to memory wipe all that delicious drama? Rollanda's like the anti-character-development device.
In
Liseranna Academy For The Magically Gifted [ALWAYS ACCEPTING]
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
@GrafRoy Zeppeli
Yo ho, just to confirm, Rollanda's office is basically like a high school anime's infirmary, right?
Yo ho, just to confirm, Rollanda's office is basically like a high school anime's infirmary, right?
Posted. A bit boring, but I guess Suzumebachi can stab Rui-Ling in the back now, if he wants to be a pussy like that.
A difference of 100km/h was already a pain in the ass, but now there was also Haruka going around slashing up speeding trucks, while talking about animals that were extinct in Japan?
Well, Rui-Ling did like a challenge. As long as the crazy lesbian and her slightly less crazy girlfriend didn’t damage his borrowed motorcycle, he wasn’t going to think too hard about whatever collateral damage they cause on their joyride. After all, this wasn’t about them.
This was about Suzumebachi, whose Suzuki Hayabusa was, despite his horrendously inefficient turns, still generating a hell of a lead. Narrowing his eyes, Rui-Ling leaned forwards, keeping his body profiled as he zipped on by. Unlike Haruka’s truck-hopping shenanigans, the immortal kept to the basics, making only slight adjustments as he grazed past slow trucks. While the Seaside Freeway did have a guardrail at the very edge to prevent sleepy drivers from toppling off into the sea, it didn’t have concrete dividers to prevent head-on collisions, which had been the cause of many accidents in the past.
Here, though, it simply meant that Rui-Ling could optimize his straight-forward racing style. The more times Haruka hopped from truck to truck, the more airtime she had, meaning less traction and less speed. The more times Suzumebachi showed off his mad drifting skills, burning rubber on the concrete pavement, the more seconds he wasted. Meanwhile, with no fear at all for his undying body, the immortal continued to accelerate, using both lanes to reduce how much he had to turn. With a passenger seat in the way, there was pretty much no way for him to lean in spectacularly for turns anyways.
All things considered, other than the dozens of near-accidents caused by Rui-Ling sliding between two opposing vehicles or hugging the cliffside guardrail, it really wasn’t nearly as spectacular as the other two contestants.
Did it matter though?
Not when that boring and efficient style allowed him to diagonally cut into the Yellow Jacket gang leader’s turn, forcing the youkai to swerve out of the way and lose enough speed that Rui-Ling finally passed him.
And it definitely didn’t matter once he was ahead, using his years of experience to read Suzumebachi’s own movements and consistently block the Youkai’s attempts to pass by him, forcing the race to a much more reasonable speed of 150km/h.
Haruka can win.
Rui-Ling just wanted that antennae-haired dick to lose.
@TheWindel@KoL
Well, Rui-Ling did like a challenge. As long as the crazy lesbian and her slightly less crazy girlfriend didn’t damage his borrowed motorcycle, he wasn’t going to think too hard about whatever collateral damage they cause on their joyride. After all, this wasn’t about them.
This was about Suzumebachi, whose Suzuki Hayabusa was, despite his horrendously inefficient turns, still generating a hell of a lead. Narrowing his eyes, Rui-Ling leaned forwards, keeping his body profiled as he zipped on by. Unlike Haruka’s truck-hopping shenanigans, the immortal kept to the basics, making only slight adjustments as he grazed past slow trucks. While the Seaside Freeway did have a guardrail at the very edge to prevent sleepy drivers from toppling off into the sea, it didn’t have concrete dividers to prevent head-on collisions, which had been the cause of many accidents in the past.
Here, though, it simply meant that Rui-Ling could optimize his straight-forward racing style. The more times Haruka hopped from truck to truck, the more airtime she had, meaning less traction and less speed. The more times Suzumebachi showed off his mad drifting skills, burning rubber on the concrete pavement, the more seconds he wasted. Meanwhile, with no fear at all for his undying body, the immortal continued to accelerate, using both lanes to reduce how much he had to turn. With a passenger seat in the way, there was pretty much no way for him to lean in spectacularly for turns anyways.
All things considered, other than the dozens of near-accidents caused by Rui-Ling sliding between two opposing vehicles or hugging the cliffside guardrail, it really wasn’t nearly as spectacular as the other two contestants.
Did it matter though?
Not when that boring and efficient style allowed him to diagonally cut into the Yellow Jacket gang leader’s turn, forcing the youkai to swerve out of the way and lose enough speed that Rui-Ling finally passed him.
And it definitely didn’t matter once he was ahead, using his years of experience to read Suzumebachi’s own movements and consistently block the Youkai’s attempts to pass by him, forcing the race to a much more reasonable speed of 150km/h.
Haruka can win.
Rui-Ling just wanted that antennae-haired dick to lose.
@TheWindel@KoL
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