AtomicNut

The Three Kings (High Casual)

Miro counted his ribs, panting heavily. Reeling still from the blow, he focused trying to control the pain he was feeling. It was just a big bruise, after all. There would be no lasting consequences other than a purple hue and soreness for a few days. Clutching his side, his head turned in the direction a voice chastised the racket he had just made angrily.

"Hey! Shut up and fuck off! "

"Sorry, I was just...uh, training. Sort of. Not many unsupervised places to do so." It was his educate answer to the presence inside one of the vans. He thought about it for a second. It seemed quite natural that some homeless would've used a van to make a shelter from the rain. He often had to do such things in the past. Grumbling with a pang of guilt for disturbing someone's else sleep he began to walk away. Still, something seemed off.

And then it dawned upon him. The voice. It seemed a bit forced and raspy. Like a teenager who just had a growth spurt. Clenching his fists, he bit his lip. The whole situation was a little too close to his personal experience for his own comfort. Already, he was imagining the person in the van, a bitter, resentful boy, cursing the world and his luck, with no helping hands at bay. Just like him, before he had met Vincent.

I must be going crazy. I must be going crazy. Picking up more strays. Miroslav bitterly chastised himself as he turned on his steps and trudged towards the van, slowly opening the door where the other person was. "Actually...this might sound a little crazy, but three or so years ago, I had to sleep on vans too. And I know it sucks. Teenagers shouldn't sleep in vans" He added, carefully measuring his movements so that he didn't sound too obtrusive. He knew all too well how mistrust ran wild these days. "And there's the pigs. Good lord, the pigs. With luck, they'll just pop your cap and kill you quickly. At worst? They'll play whack-a-hobo."

He stood in the doorframe. "I'm Miro. I don't have much food and money right now on myself. But I could offer a shower and a better place to stay, if you want. It was rude of me to start doing parkour on your home."

Puella Magi Madoka Magica Roleplay

I wanna be Kiwijoe.

Blood, Riches and Glory: Ghosts of Iron Coast

((OOC: Uh oh, Pyria's regained her senses))

Pyria

Child of the Flame

Location:Actium

In her madness, Pyria didn't even flinch at the sudden display of magical power before her, and weapons flying about. Her flames were put off, so what? Raven Queen? She would never bow down to a pitiful goddess of humans, no matter how fanciful the display. She batted her wings furiously, braving onto the obvious display of magic. It didn't matter. Hurricane winds, a magical mist from a second source, she would push through them all.

Roaring once more, Pyria's eyes gleamed with a nasty glint. "NOT EVEN THE GODS WILL PROTECT YOU, LUCA!" She spat, full of murderous intent. And just then, the fog on her mind cleared. Her senses returned and anger receeded somewhat, but not fully. She didn't know what it was, maybe the mist or the cold, but her mind gears quickly raced, as she took a full turn, ascending while dodging the worst of the blizzard.

"Funny. I'm not even angry now." Pyria said, in a much chirpy tone. "I can see what you did, clearly. If only you had listened, when i told you about my commitment and manacle." She said as she begun to ascend. "Everyone else, I can forgive the slight...but not you. I'll just bypass the divine protection and sock you for ~good" Pyria finished as she kept circling Luca, ascending yet once again in the storm. Memories raced in her draconic mind. Memories of her master.

A magic Barrier can be sturdy, and block blows, as you can see.

What about a moving barrier, then? Can we ram people with it.

In theory... but you know, wizards aren't the most muscular or fit people. It would require a hideous amount of speed and strength to do that.

She grinned, as she reached maximum altitude, before taking a dive once again. Right on top of Luca. But unlike before, she wasn't showing signs of changing direction, nor beginning a strafe run, surely with the wind she would crash in the ground and hurt herself. But she wasn't stopping her suicide dive.

Closer.

She drew closer.

Adjusting the trajectory, as if she was a catapult stone, aimed on top of Luca.

And then in the last second, a magic barrier deployed, turning the suicidal dive, in not a quite suicidal meteor strike with a magic shield.

Blood, Riches and Glory: Ghosts of Iron Coast

I'm not out of this. Just having a writer's block. Please standby.

And done. HELLO??

Puella Magi Madoka Magica Roleplay

So i can't become meguka? Too bad. It seemed interesting.

CLOSED/MAY REBOOT IN FUTURE

@AtomicNut How so little Jack? :P

@lovely complex

Drunk brains can be rather... special when thinking about plot lines.

CLOSED/MAY REBOOT IN FUTURE

Alright guys. @Viciousmarrow and I just got home. We're going to get settled in and try to get to the time skip as soon as possible. Birthday weekend has consumed us. Don't worry, we haven't forgotten about you all :)

@lovely complex

That sounds...ominous.

CLOSED/MAY REBOOT IN FUTURE

Jack winced, his visage twisting in an ugly grimace upon hearing his lord's words. Definitely a new low for Ventrue. More than one would rethink their loyalties at this point, but not Jack. There was simply too many events, too much time fighting side by side against an unforgiving eternal life and society. He just shrugged it off, a smile appearing in his face as he stoically braved the blow and the humilliation he was feeling right now.

And then, Lord Ventrue's tantrum seemed to come to an end. Waiting for his cue, he tensed his little, tiny arms and used his vampiric strength to begin carry the Lord, as if he were a child or a maiden, heading up for the lord's quarters." Joke, my lord? That is despair speaking. You're no joke. You're the most transparent person I've ever meet. One who's not afraid of baring his true intentions and heart to the cruel, and unforgiving blows. One brave enough to keep going, keep being honest no matter how many knives in the back your receive."

He then paused, readjusting the weight. "Well, if you die, theoretically I would inherit everything. But... I would lose everything. See, lord Ventrue, you created Jack. You were the one who gave a nameless disgrace an identity on its own. This life of mine... is yours and yours forever. Without you, there would be no Jack." He said in a quiet voice to the lord.

"Even if you make an enemy of every single Elder, King Dracula himself, and the rest of your brood, I'd glady charge into them at your command." The tiny prelate finally announced, before depositing the elder in his bed.

Clutching his fists, he grabbed the nearest of the underlings, his high-pitched voice suddenly gaining a deep commanding tone. "Send patrols out there. Armed. It must look like we're doing something. But stay peeled on the other clan's movements. Do not disturb the elder unless it's important. Report to me any findings. Got it?"

The Three Kings (High Casual)

Being Miro is suffering.

The Three Kings (High Casual)

New York Slums: Vinnie's Gym

Miro sniffed the vanilla scent one more time, before leaving the third plate on the table, with pancakes neatly stacked in a rather sizable tower of sugary death. After some pondering, he added the syrupy final touch, just as he heard yells and screams from the shower. Miro tensed for a second, until he heard the carefree giggling of two of the girls, followed by a towel slap and a squeal.

Oookay... Miro's mind quickly raced to imagine what kind of ...peculiar situation that one was, but clearing his throat, he composed himself. Just as he eyed the third of the strays already eating his pancakes, with a bad case of bedhead, and eyes half open as she devoured her breakfast like she had not eaten in days. She probably hadn't eaten in days.

"So noisy..." the girl mumbled as she drank a glass of milk that had been deposited next to her.

"Hmpf." Miro grumped as he shrugged his arms in response, leaving the dirty dishes in the sink. He was decent cooking, but he was a bit of a slacker when it came to cleaning.

"Thanks for the bed and breakfast, Miro." The girl droned as the youth scowled, looking away from her face. Who wouldn't give them a bed and breakfast, knowing the situation the girls were in? Miro was about to make a retort, when the other two girls appeared, homing on the scent of recently made pancakes.

Wearing nothing but towels and underwear.

Miro decided he had enough, so he grabbed a couple of bars, while trying to reign all the conflicting signals he was receiving, his eyes glued on his feet. Time to get the hell out of there. Parkour training. Yes, parkour seemed a good idea.

"Maybe he's gay?" One of the girls muttered as she started to eat his pancakes.

---

@MassasaugaNew York Slums: Junkyard

This kind of environment was a good thing for a traceur, Miro thought as he stretched, eyeing the assorted scraps and mounds everywhere. Irregular structures, breakable surfaces, and basically, no one to disturb him. He breathed deep and started his run. First a climb, then a jump, then a side roll. Then a wallkick. He kept going and going.

And then he jumped on one of the vans. I'm invincible! He thought to himself as he kept one upping his tricks. He had to. No one ordinary could keep up with the world that he had been introduced, full of teenagers with strange abilities and government conspiracies... And then, upon the prompt, the very image of the breakfast he had been avoiding surged back in his mind. The image of the towel girls made the young man skip a crucial step, sending him barreling towards one of the vans.

"OW!" He said, after painfully bouncing against it, making a lot of noise, and ending up sprawled on the floor.