Asuras Member
No spoken words, only napalm and guns
- Last Seen: 5 mos ago
- Old Guild Username: Asuras
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1367 (0.30 / day)
- VMs: 3
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- Asuras 12 yrs ago
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Disciple Cain,
Haha
Status
Recent Statuses
6 yrs ago
Political opinions on a public forum? I just wanna rp for god's sake!
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Bio
Call me: Asuras
I like: Urban Fantasy, High Fantasy, Anime Aesthetics
I play: Anything. Mostly women.
I have a long history of GM'ing, perhaps even more than playing. I like art, and I commission a lot. D&D is my life right now.
Most Recent Posts
NEVER.
Sailing on a ship was one thing (even if Rilolia found herself below deck 24/7), but experiencing the waters of the world on the edge of an island was entirely different. It elicited images of tranquility and exotic nature, like some vacation resort decked out with palm trees and fancy juice drinks. Rilolia took it all in for a moment, and turned her head to wash away the island's facade; just a few dozen feet away, the image was instead replaced by the grungy, rusted, disparaging scene of a series of docks. Dirty men hauled in foul smelling fish and seagulls defecated wherever they pleased.
"Bleh," Rilolia grimaced. She had flown from the ship's deck to the island several minutes before it itself had made port, finding herself in the heart of the docks as the Laurentine began to switch direction and stop itself further from the action. Her noble nose wished that she had done the same. Rilolia stretched a few times and perused off further onto the island, eventually coming across the pathway leading to Frelia. On multiple occasions, she caught herself witnessing Yazulayne attempting to procure a job, but she kept to herself and let the elf do her own thing. She didn't exactly want to catch herself in something annoying, fueled by the quirkiness of the two-faced elf.
Rilolia reached into her coat and fished for a packet of blood... to no avail. Frantically, she shuffled through her pockets to find some source of sustenance, and found nothing. Falling back in the outdoors bar seat, she sighed.
"Well shit," she moaned. The last one must have been when she still had Dead Gear, and was climbing the mountain. She patted her cloth a few more times, just in case, before truly giving up. She would have to find some unfortunate creature around town in the dark of night if she was to get anything at all. Being so far from Talze Uterra, Rilolia highly doubted that Frelia ever really dealt with vampires, and lacked any sort of purchasable blood for her. For now, however, she had other matters to attend to, and her stomach would have to wait some more.
Rilolia picked herself up from the seat, ignoring the complimentary ale that had been placed on her table minutes prior by a perky barmaid, and looked for the right bar that Chad had spoken of.
"Bleh," Rilolia grimaced. She had flown from the ship's deck to the island several minutes before it itself had made port, finding herself in the heart of the docks as the Laurentine began to switch direction and stop itself further from the action. Her noble nose wished that she had done the same. Rilolia stretched a few times and perused off further onto the island, eventually coming across the pathway leading to Frelia. On multiple occasions, she caught herself witnessing Yazulayne attempting to procure a job, but she kept to herself and let the elf do her own thing. She didn't exactly want to catch herself in something annoying, fueled by the quirkiness of the two-faced elf.
Rilolia reached into her coat and fished for a packet of blood... to no avail. Frantically, she shuffled through her pockets to find some source of sustenance, and found nothing. Falling back in the outdoors bar seat, she sighed.
"Well shit," she moaned. The last one must have been when she still had Dead Gear, and was climbing the mountain. She patted her cloth a few more times, just in case, before truly giving up. She would have to find some unfortunate creature around town in the dark of night if she was to get anything at all. Being so far from Talze Uterra, Rilolia highly doubted that Frelia ever really dealt with vampires, and lacked any sort of purchasable blood for her. For now, however, she had other matters to attend to, and her stomach would have to wait some more.
Rilolia picked herself up from the seat, ignoring the complimentary ale that had been placed on her table minutes prior by a perky barmaid, and looked for the right bar that Chad had spoken of.
Hm. I suppose. I'll say it now though; please keep it to two characters for now, everyone.
Damnit Cormac. xD
Oh, also, I've been thinking of doing an Achievement Game sort of thing for the roleplay, tied into IC itself. A board with a list of achievements individuals could perform, such as pantsing a soldier, or managing to procure some sort of item in the tower by whatever means (like drugs, sweets, magazines, books, etc). Gains you street cred.
Oh, also, I've been thinking of doing an Achievement Game sort of thing for the roleplay, tied into IC itself. A board with a list of achievements individuals could perform, such as pantsing a soldier, or managing to procure some sort of item in the tower by whatever means (like drugs, sweets, magazines, books, etc). Gains you street cred.
These are the two NPC's thus introduced. Interact with them how you may.
Name: Madeline Louis
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
+Courteous, kind
+Trustworthy, dependable
+Driven to help friends
-Timid, shy
-Prone to avoiding social situations she is unconnected with
-Apologetic to the point of being a nuisance
-Pacifistic
Power: Teleportation - Madeline is capable of instantaneous movement from one point to another, up to a distance of 300 yards, which is affected by multiple factors:
Madeline must be touching any objects she wishes to teleport with herself, and eliminates momentum whenever she teleports.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Name: Cain Trimble
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Personality:
+Loyal
+Rugged, immobile
+Brave
-Caustic
-Aggressive
-Hard to convince
Power: Massless - Put simply, objects that Cain carries, lifts, pushes, or otherwise interacts with, appear to him as if they have the mass or weight of a feather-like objects. Normally immovable objects are suddenly and easily lifted by him, as if they weighed nothing, though they still maintain their mass and force when others interact with it... such as being hit with the object. This only applies to lifting and generating momentum, and does not allow Cain the ability to break powerful objects, or otherwise tear things attached to another mass that he couldn't normally. So far, Cain can only apply this ability to objects with a weight of 3000 pounds.
Name: Madeline Louis
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Personality:
+Courteous, kind
+Trustworthy, dependable
+Driven to help friends
-Timid, shy
-Prone to avoiding social situations she is unconnected with
-Apologetic to the point of being a nuisance
-Pacifistic
Power: Teleportation - Madeline is capable of instantaneous movement from one point to another, up to a distance of 300 yards, which is affected by multiple factors:
- Line of Sight - Being unable to see her end point directly reduces her maximum distance up to twenty feet, and includes the danger of teleporting into a solid substance (which would be fatal) if she does not know exactly where she's arriving.
- Weight - Madeline can teleport with her any number of objects totaling a weight of approx. ten pounds before it starts to affect her capable distance. Each successive ten pounds reduces her possible distance by ten yards, though the maximum weight she can transmit with herself and travel any distance is 200 pounds.
- Successive Use - Using the ability multiple times within seconds of each other halves her possible distance each time.
Madeline must be touching any objects she wishes to teleport with herself, and eliminates momentum whenever she teleports.
Name: Cain Trimble
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Personality:
+Loyal
+Rugged, immobile
+Brave
-Caustic
-Aggressive
-Hard to convince
Power: Massless - Put simply, objects that Cain carries, lifts, pushes, or otherwise interacts with, appear to him as if they have the mass or weight of a feather-like objects. Normally immovable objects are suddenly and easily lifted by him, as if they weighed nothing, though they still maintain their mass and force when others interact with it... such as being hit with the object. This only applies to lifting and generating momentum, and does not allow Cain the ability to break powerful objects, or otherwise tear things attached to another mass that he couldn't normally. So far, Cain can only apply this ability to objects with a weight of 3000 pounds.
Welcome to Tower 89F guys.
"What the FUCK?!" A clear, aggravated, and genuinely distasteful growl trampled over the collective voices of the students in the room, if only for a second. It came late, as if someone were sleeping and had awoken to a friend explain in detail to them what had just occurred. It was a rather formidable young man from which the voice came, and he stood up from his seat in between a pair of instantly timid individuals who curled up into their seats.
I don't know this guy seemed to be their silent chant. The man was at least six feet tall and built like an I-beam, as if his musculature just screamed, "try to hurt me!" His shoulders bore several indiscernible tattoos in latin, and a heart with some female's name printed across it. Most notable of all, however, was the black bandanna that hung over his lower face, covered in prints of white bone and rose petals. All that was needed for him and his black tank-top was a motorcycle, and he'd suddenly seem a lot less out of place.
His scowl brought the bandanna up to his eyes, and his whole body tensed with testosterone. Was he even under 18? No one at the time dared question it. His string of curses and incoherent ranting silenced a large swathe of the elevator, but those further away still managed to hold a conversation underneath the vocal tyranny. His complaints were shared with most people there -that was for certain- but the manner in which he expressed it was clearly unneeded; such opinions were clear in the displeasure that painted over his audience.
On several occasions he looked down at someone nearby and directly asked them personally, assaulting their very person with loud words. "The fuck is this shit?! This can't have been allowed by the gov! Fuck those guys! You hear me?!" It was as if he was asking specifically for recognition, as if the others might not have shared his sentiment. To anyone perceptive enough, it was plain as day that behind his tough stature and loud voice, he was quite scared himself.
Others vocalized the same in a more discrete manner. Already some began to seemingly declare some sort of fruitless war on the staff, as if they could procure enough power to earn themselves a better stay at the Academy. Some cried. Some changed very little. Most were quiet, and a few chattered more sanely and intelligently among their new comrades. It was common knowledge, at that point, that strong friendships were going to be a requirement if one wanted to push along safely here.
The girl in the shoulder cape -likely a teleporter given the direct stare given her by the soldier-woman who had entered prior- kept to herself for a good while, eyes trained to her feet and the relative dirtiness of the elevator floor. She had failed to notice the lack in cleanliness. Just another danger sign she could have used to predict the future, she supposed, not that leaving the elevator was an option. Timid as she appeared to be, the girl eventually lifted her gaze to look about the room, eyeing each group and individual as if appreciating their worth. Really, though, she was simply scanning for a good group to weave herself into. If this was anything like a prison, you needed friends.
The girl rose from her seat and followed just behind Shane, believing it to be a good and slightly less awkward chance at introducing herself when someone else did the same before her. She came from behind Shane and jolted her own introduction in just after his, hoping no one would really notice that she was completely separate from Shane.
"And I'm Madeline," she interjected quietly. Her hunched and loose posture nearly forced her to the floor as the elevator suddenly decelerated, and the lights outside began to be discernible from one another, rather than a continuous stream of light. Beyond the glass, a large bulkhead door and platform at its feet grew closer and closer. The tiny figures of two soldiers standing at its sides became visible, as well as the formidable pair of guns mounted on the tunnel's sides. The room locked into one final place, and the doors opened, followed by a brief but deafening buzzer. The way and demand was clear.
Students shuffled about one another back to where they had placed their luggage, and quietly rolled or carried it outside, stopping themselves dozens of feet away from the soldiers standing watch. As the last body stumbled out and into the crowd, the soldiers pressed a few buttons on electronic pads revealed from their armored uniforms, and the elevator doors closed before being sent back the way it came.
From the ceiling, a pair of spinning yellow lights signaled danger as a five foot tall set of bars formed behind the gathering, serving as a makeshift barrier and halting them from stepping backwards; and rightfully so. As the elevator disappeared into the horizon, the whole ground shook violently, and the tunnel beyond began to shift. One by one, the tunnel separated into countless individual tubes, and each descended one after the other atop their own pillars. What was once a transit passage of steel made way for a impossibly vast atrium dominated by hanging skyscrapers and permeating metal pathways. The platform they stood on hung from some unseen building miles above the closest flat surface, which was itself but a small dot in the sky-land they stood within.
The crowd understandably, then, scrambled away from the extreme drop, compacting the students together as the ones at the front refused to walk closer to the soldiers. The yellow lights spun still, and the soldiers maintained their position as the bulkhead doors -seemingly meant to fit stampedes of elephants- twisted open in a circular pattern, making way for a large, multi-floored room.
And upon the rails lining each floor -swinging, sitting, lying, planking, or simply standing- stood countless other students already waiting for the new arrivals. Their faces were a mix of anticipation, fear, disgust, anger, and apathy. The new kids had arrived. The new blood. The scene couldn't have been less prison-like, as if the students with their luggage in tow were being sized up by the veterans, soon to be assimilated or ostracized by the culture that undoubtedly gripped their new home. Students leaning on the rails laughed, pointed, smiled, winked, glared, spat, cursed, hailed, growled, gestured, danced... one in particular mooned the arrivals briefly before high-fiving a friend of his.
The buzzer roared again, and the soldiers gestured for them to enter. Above the bulkhead doors, a large, wide monitor displayed in clear white letters:
TOWER 89F
I don't know this guy seemed to be their silent chant. The man was at least six feet tall and built like an I-beam, as if his musculature just screamed, "try to hurt me!" His shoulders bore several indiscernible tattoos in latin, and a heart with some female's name printed across it. Most notable of all, however, was the black bandanna that hung over his lower face, covered in prints of white bone and rose petals. All that was needed for him and his black tank-top was a motorcycle, and he'd suddenly seem a lot less out of place.
His scowl brought the bandanna up to his eyes, and his whole body tensed with testosterone. Was he even under 18? No one at the time dared question it. His string of curses and incoherent ranting silenced a large swathe of the elevator, but those further away still managed to hold a conversation underneath the vocal tyranny. His complaints were shared with most people there -that was for certain- but the manner in which he expressed it was clearly unneeded; such opinions were clear in the displeasure that painted over his audience.
On several occasions he looked down at someone nearby and directly asked them personally, assaulting their very person with loud words. "The fuck is this shit?! This can't have been allowed by the gov! Fuck those guys! You hear me?!" It was as if he was asking specifically for recognition, as if the others might not have shared his sentiment. To anyone perceptive enough, it was plain as day that behind his tough stature and loud voice, he was quite scared himself.
Others vocalized the same in a more discrete manner. Already some began to seemingly declare some sort of fruitless war on the staff, as if they could procure enough power to earn themselves a better stay at the Academy. Some cried. Some changed very little. Most were quiet, and a few chattered more sanely and intelligently among their new comrades. It was common knowledge, at that point, that strong friendships were going to be a requirement if one wanted to push along safely here.
The girl in the shoulder cape -likely a teleporter given the direct stare given her by the soldier-woman who had entered prior- kept to herself for a good while, eyes trained to her feet and the relative dirtiness of the elevator floor. She had failed to notice the lack in cleanliness. Just another danger sign she could have used to predict the future, she supposed, not that leaving the elevator was an option. Timid as she appeared to be, the girl eventually lifted her gaze to look about the room, eyeing each group and individual as if appreciating their worth. Really, though, she was simply scanning for a good group to weave herself into. If this was anything like a prison, you needed friends.
The girl rose from her seat and followed just behind Shane, believing it to be a good and slightly less awkward chance at introducing herself when someone else did the same before her. She came from behind Shane and jolted her own introduction in just after his, hoping no one would really notice that she was completely separate from Shane.
"And I'm Madeline," she interjected quietly. Her hunched and loose posture nearly forced her to the floor as the elevator suddenly decelerated, and the lights outside began to be discernible from one another, rather than a continuous stream of light. Beyond the glass, a large bulkhead door and platform at its feet grew closer and closer. The tiny figures of two soldiers standing at its sides became visible, as well as the formidable pair of guns mounted on the tunnel's sides. The room locked into one final place, and the doors opened, followed by a brief but deafening buzzer. The way and demand was clear.
Students shuffled about one another back to where they had placed their luggage, and quietly rolled or carried it outside, stopping themselves dozens of feet away from the soldiers standing watch. As the last body stumbled out and into the crowd, the soldiers pressed a few buttons on electronic pads revealed from their armored uniforms, and the elevator doors closed before being sent back the way it came.
From the ceiling, a pair of spinning yellow lights signaled danger as a five foot tall set of bars formed behind the gathering, serving as a makeshift barrier and halting them from stepping backwards; and rightfully so. As the elevator disappeared into the horizon, the whole ground shook violently, and the tunnel beyond began to shift. One by one, the tunnel separated into countless individual tubes, and each descended one after the other atop their own pillars. What was once a transit passage of steel made way for a impossibly vast atrium dominated by hanging skyscrapers and permeating metal pathways. The platform they stood on hung from some unseen building miles above the closest flat surface, which was itself but a small dot in the sky-land they stood within.
The crowd understandably, then, scrambled away from the extreme drop, compacting the students together as the ones at the front refused to walk closer to the soldiers. The yellow lights spun still, and the soldiers maintained their position as the bulkhead doors -seemingly meant to fit stampedes of elephants- twisted open in a circular pattern, making way for a large, multi-floored room.
And upon the rails lining each floor -swinging, sitting, lying, planking, or simply standing- stood countless other students already waiting for the new arrivals. Their faces were a mix of anticipation, fear, disgust, anger, and apathy. The new kids had arrived. The new blood. The scene couldn't have been less prison-like, as if the students with their luggage in tow were being sized up by the veterans, soon to be assimilated or ostracized by the culture that undoubtedly gripped their new home. Students leaning on the rails laughed, pointed, smiled, winked, glared, spat, cursed, hailed, growled, gestured, danced... one in particular mooned the arrivals briefly before high-fiving a friend of his.
The buzzer roared again, and the soldiers gestured for them to enter. Above the bulkhead doors, a large, wide monitor displayed in clear white letters:
Aaaannnnd working on the IC now.
Nope. We need one more IC post then I can get top page again. :L
I don't think it's anywhere close enough to be classified as an insect. Just insect-like.
Difference being Michael and Nikki can make an insect monstrous, whereas Lukas becomes a monstrous creature (a supernatural beast, at that) with insectoid characteristics.
Difference being Michael and Nikki can make an insect monstrous, whereas Lukas becomes a monstrous creature (a supernatural beast, at that) with insectoid characteristics.
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