AtomicNut

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

"How many more times I have to tell you..."The cloaked, diminituve humanoid said, rubbing his temple with a somewhat wrinkled and tattoed hand, a bone bracelet hanging from it. "You don't feed that kind of treats to the beasts, lackwit." The height and somewhat gutural pronounciation of such words denounced the beast as one of the most known pests of the kingdoms. A goblin. And one quite rare at it, for he was of advanced age. Normally these creatures did not live that long. The most surprising part was however, that the denizens of Viarosa were giving him and his minions wide berth.

It was because of the motley. Excluding the cloaked elder, every single of the half a dozen of goblins that surrounded him was dressed in a garish attire, announcing their stated profession to the world. Circus performers. Two of the male ones were juggling small balls, swapping them as they balanced themselves on two large balls, showing near perfect coordination, despite the rough monstrous features of the couple. A third one, female, with somewhat more softer features and closer to what humans deemed as acceptably presentably was announcing the name of the Mist Goblin circus with surprising diction, not skipping a beat to squeeze the most of her tiny lungs to announce the different numbers. A fourth one, female was sitting on a crude stand, made out of a box, and posing with a head-dress dedicated her time to perform card tricks or Crystal ball readings for free as a way to advertise.

They had been moderatedly successful despite the crowds of the street and the location, a little way off the main streets of Viarosa, having atracted several kids and even the surprised adult. And luckily, none from the guard nor any zealot had driven them out.

But the fifth male goblin was bowing before the leader. "Me sorry! Me sorry!". The flustered goblin added, exchanging looks with one of the beasts of the circus. It would have been an splendid example of male wolf, if the pitiful beast wasn't whining and puking in the dark section of a back alley, too sick to even stand up. The leader shook his head, sighing deeply.

First there were the bad omens. Me and Zema get bad readings with our cards and bones. Then the temple of Hagash crumbles, and that damned spirit of the relic tells me that a God died. And that is supposed to be really bad news. Of course, given how much unrest there is these days, we can barely scrape by. And now this. That fool poisons my prized wolf companion because he didn't pay attention to what kind of seasoned meat he was giving to the animal.

"Well, can't be helped." The Goblin said as he clenched his teeth, revealing his most recognizable feature, a golden tooth. "Kruk, you did this, so you're going to tend to my wolf for the time being." He said, indicating the apologizing goblin to keep cleaning wolf puke from the street. "Zema." He said, catching the attention of the fortuneteller goblin. "You will come with me. We are going to find an emetic for this poor beast."

"Yes Goldtooth", said the female goblin as she packed up her stand, and followed the elder goblin as he squirmed past the people. "We need to find an apothecary, but failing that, any tavern will do. We can fetch ingredients for the emetic from food spices aswell." He added. "Mayhaps we should try the Laughing Fiddler."

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

Name: Gnurk Goldtooth, Ringmaster of the Mist Goblin Circus
Sex: Male
Race: Goblin
Age: 56
Appearance: A middle-aged green-skinned and red-eyed goblin which usually dresses in worn travel clothes and a cloak. His face also has intricate carvings to symbolize his status as shaman and he possesses a golden tooth.
Religion: Vakarion and Althaea. He does not find this incongruous since Trickery and Drama go by the hand. He also pays homage to other gods.
Backstory: Gnurk was born as the 135th childe of Gnark of the Misty Fen, a nondescript goblin king in some godforsaken swamp in Ainsmenland. He spent his early years by trying to do as best of what he could from the wholly undesirable position of an species being far down in the pecking order in the world. Unusually for a goblin, he was rather more thoughtful than his peers, and more than often that helped him escape from certain death at times. His intelligence did not go unnoticed, as the shaman of his tribe, Zeldre, took him as an apprentice. He would probably not beat one of his siblings at becoming the chieftain, but being the shaman was always a desirable spot in the tribe.

Until the raid happened, and he was taken from his tribe amidst a sea of goblin blood, with few if any survivors being processed as slaves. Gnurk was relatively lucky on the auction. All of them were purchased in bulk for an eccentric wizard in need of expendable manpower. The crazy magician eventually saw through the Goblin and realized that he was quicker on his mind than the others, so he made him play scouting aide in his ventures seeking ancient artifacts. There were many hazards, but he managed to live long enough to outlive his otherwise unpredictable master.

His many years and eccentricies had caught up to the wizard, and the tower was crumbled by a punitive expedition of knights under a certain king's orders. Heavily wounded, and chased like vermin, Gnurk ventured in the dark cellars of the wizard, in desperation to save his life. It was when he found the Vanishing Agora, one of the most enigmatic divine relics in the world. An ancient city inside a crystal globe. Gnurk somehow managed to activate the relic, and escaped death by taking refuge inside.

What he found inside was a large central space, surrounded by temples dedicated to the Pantheon. Each god had one temple, and all of them were equal in size and craft. Solemn for the benevolent deities in one side, and twisted for the Shaituns in the other. And in the centre, the biggest temple, consigned to the god of chance Vakarion. All the buildings seemed that they had seen better days, and statues were crumbled and cracked, and yet, they were even more breathtaking, as if they were meant to be in this state.

And then the guardian spirit of the place presented himself. Calling himself the Night Raven, he once was a mortal, that in his hubris, called himself a trickster superior to the God of Chance, and claimed that not even the gods themselves would be able to rule his Fate. Vakarion's ire bound him to be an eternal guardian of a place that he himself created as a practical joke, the most grandiose and yet at the same time, small city. He also decided to reward the first mortal who ever reached the city inside the globe with the ownership of said city, to rule and see as they were fit.

He also grumbled under his breath "choke on it, filthy goblin". But hard feelings aside, Gnurk had a world-shattering revelation and decided to turn over a new leaf on this second chance at life. Ideally, he wanted to get back his tribe, but he realized that such a kind of lifestyle would only bring fresh trouble.

He decided to create a wandering troupe, instead, taking advantadge of the goblin's low upkeep, and recruited half a dozen haggard survivors to start his own kind of business. One that didn't imply raiding or being pests to other races, but actually by entertaining them and trading with them. Although he was sad that he did not find any other goblin who could understand his foresight, they were tractable enough to actually make competent workers.

The Mist Goblin Circus started small, but thanks to having the Vanishing Agora in their possession, the Circus gained a good reputation, albeit if mysterious and semi-legendary among wanderers and smallfolk. A troupe of goblins that instead of raiding cattle, would offer entertainment for the masses, lodging for the travellers, and aid and trade for adventurers even in the strangest of places. Needless to say, despite not being shining examples of bravery, the Mist Goblin Circus has pledged to help against Htraknu.

Motivation: The Vanishing Agora is a coveted treasure, and sooner or later, it would be targetted by the dragon himself. Besides, if the world status suffers, so will their way of living in a sense.
Magic: Gnurk was trained as a Shaman in the unholy rites of goblins. He can use magic, but it requires blood and sacrifices. Among the things he can do are:

• Elemental explosive tags (for traps or direct use, fire, ice and lightning)
• Healing of wounds
• Wards and curses that either enhace magical defenses or cause unnatural ailments.
• Becoming a Worg, a black, red-eyed wolf of intimidating size. He can also use a ritual sacrificed wolfskin for that purpose.
• Becoming a Red-Eyed Raven, by employing feathers from a ritual sacrificed raven or crow.

Skills/Strengths: Gnurk is much more literate and skilled than the average goblin. Having been trained as the son of a chieftain and a shaman, he does have management and leadership skills, as well as some tactics and battle prowess (with ranged weapons). He is also a good healer and animal tamer, and he can make wild beasts obey him at the crack of a whip or otherwise. Gnurk is also fairly cultured and knows about the lore of the world and can even talk several tongues. He even remembers how to do house chores, but he hasn't needed to do it in decades. He is decent at scouting aswell.
Weaknesses: Being a goblin, and a middle aged one at that, does not favours for his physical prowess. He also struggles to face his opponents rather than running, because of the ingrained instinct to flee present in goblins.
Gear:

• Whip
• Blood Flasks
• Sling
• Sacrificial dagger
• Transformation items (Pelt, Feathers)
• A tamed large wolf which he uses to ride on.
• The Vanishing Agora, a veritable small city with temples, an inn, a blacksmith and some fields with crops. All of it inside a nigh-indestructible crystal sphere. It also houses Gnurk's house. Denizens include:
  
  
  
  • Night Raven: A spirit in the shape of a raven tasked to guard the place. Tends to be rude for his own amusement.
  • Goblins (12): The Mist Circus Troupe. They run around the town. Haven't figured out how to use the forge yet.
  • Tame Wolves: Used for tricks.

Other: Did anybody said MOBILE BASE?

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

While i was debating about the dragon, I had another idea.

Name: Gnurk Goldtooth, Ringmaster of the Mist Goblin Circus
Sex: Male
Race: Goblin
Age: 56
Appearance: A middle-aged green-skinned and red-eyed goblin which usually dresses in worn travel clothes and a cloak. His face also has intricate carvings to symbolize his status as shaman and he possesses a golden tooth.
Religion: Vakarion and Althaea. He does not find this incongruous since Trickery and Drama go by the hand. He also pays homage to other gods.
Backstory: Gnurk was born as the 135th childe of Gnark of the Misty Fen, a nondescript goblin king in some godforsaken swamp in Ainsmenland. He spent his early years by trying to do as best of what he could from the wholly undesirable position of an species being far down in the pecking order in the world. Unusually for a goblin, he was rather more thoughtful than his peers, and more than often that helped him escape from certain death at times. His intelligence did not go unnoticed, as the shaman of his tribe, Zeldre, took him as an apprentice. He would probably not beat one of his siblings at becoming the chieftain, but being the shaman was always a desirable spot in the tribe.

Until the raid happened, and he was taken from his tribe amidst a sea of goblin blood, with few if any survivors being processed as slaves. Gnurk was relatively lucky on the auction. All of them were purchased in bulk for an eccentric wizard in need of expendable manpower. The crazy magician eventually saw through the Goblin and realized that he was quicker on his mind than the others, so he made him play scouting aide in his ventures seeking ancient artifacts. There were many hazards, but he managed to live long enough to outlive his otherwise unpredictable master.

His many years and eccentricies had caught up to the wizard, and the tower was crumbled by a punitive expedition of knights under a certain king's orders. Heavily wounded, and chased like vermin, Gnurk ventured in the dark cellars of the wizard, in desperation to save his life. It was when he found the Vanishing Agora, one of the most enigmatic divine relics in the world. An ancient city inside a crystal globe. Gnurk somehow managed to activate the relic, and escaped death by taking refuge inside.

What he found inside was a large central space, surrounded by temples dedicated to the Pantheon. Each god had one temple, and all of them were equal in size and craft. Solemn for the benevolent deities in one side, and twisted for the Shaituns in the other. And in the centre, the biggest temple, consigned to the god of chance Vakarion. All the buildings seemed that they had seen better days, and statues were crumbled and cracked, and yet, they were even more breathtaking, as if they were meant to be in this state.

And then the guardian spirit of the place presented himself. Calling himself the Night Raven, he once was a mortal, that in his hubris, called himself a trickster superior to the God of Chance, and claimed that not even the gods themselves would be able to rule his Fate. Vakarion's ire bound him to be an eternal guardian of a place that he himself created as a practical joke, the most grandiose and yet at the same time, small city. He also decided to reward the first mortal who ever reached the city inside the globe with the ownership of said city, to rule and see as they were fit.

He also grumbled under his breath "choke on it, filthy goblin". But hard feelings aside, Gnurk had a world-shattering revelation and decided to turn over a new leaf on this second chance at life. Ideally, he wanted to get back his tribe, but he realized that such a kind of lifestyle would only bring fresh trouble.

He decided to create a wandering troupe, instead, taking advantadge of the goblin's low upkeep, and recruited half a dozen haggard survivors to start his own kind of business. One that didn't imply raiding or being pests to other races, but actually by entertaining them and trading with them. Although he was sad that he did not find any other goblin who could understand his foresight, they were tractable enough to actually make competent workers.

The Mist Goblin Circus started small, but thanks to having the Vanishing Agora in their possession, the Circus gained a good reputation, albeit if mysterious and semi-legendary among wanderers and smallfolk. A troupe of goblins that instead of raiding cattle, would offer entertainment for the masses, lodging for the travellers, and aid and trade for adventurers even in the strangest of places. Needless to say, despite not being shining examples of bravery, the Mist Goblin Circus has pledged to help against Htraknu.

Motivation: The Vanishing Agora is a coveted treasure, and sooner or later, it would be targetted by the dragon himself. Besides, if the world status suffers, so will their way of living in a sense.
Magic: Gnurk was trained as a Shaman in the unholy rites of goblins. He can use magic, but it requires blood and sacrifices. Among the things he can do are:

• Elemental explosive tags (for traps or direct use, fire, ice and lightning)
• Healing of wounds
• Wards and curses that either enhace magical defenses or cause unnatural ailments.
• Becoming a Worg, a black, red-eyed wolf of intimidating size. He can also use a ritual sacrificed wolfskin for that purpose.
• Becoming a Red-Eyed Raven, by employing feathers from a ritual sacrificed raven or crow.

Skills/Strengths: Gnurk is much more literate and skilled than the average goblin. Having been trained as the son of a chieftain and a shaman, he does have management and leadership skills, as well as some tactics and battle prowess (with ranged weapons). He is also a good healer and animal tamer, and he can make wild beasts obey him at the crack of a whip or otherwise. Gnurk is also fairly cultured and knows about the lore of the world and can even talk several tongues. He even remembers how to do house chores, but he hasn't needed to do it in decades. He is decent at scouting aswell.
Weaknesses: Being a goblin, and a middle aged one at that, does not favours for his physical prowess. He also struggles to face his opponents rather than running, because of the ingrained instinct to flee present in goblins.
Gear:

• Whip
• Blood Flasks
• Sling
• Sacrificial dagger
• Transformation items (Pelt, Feathers)
• A tamed large wolf which he uses to ride on.
• The Vanishing Agora, a veritable small city with temples, an inn, a blacksmith and some fields with crops. All of it inside a nigh-indestructible crystal sphere. It also houses Gnurk's house. Denizens include:
  
  • Night Raven: A spirit in the shape of a raven tasked to guard the place. Tends to be rude for his own amusement.
  • Goblins (12): The Mist Circus Troupe. They run around the town. Haven't figured out how to use the forge yet.
  • Tame Wolves: Used for tricks.

Other: Did anybody said MOBILE BASE?

Made in Abyss [Closed]

@liferusher

Drat. Sieg cursed to himself as he yanked the flaming bolt back, to conserve ammunition. His eyes strained as he eyed the consistency and make of the hole, kneeling carefully and driving a finger through the edges.Crumbled. And perfectly circular. He grimaced as thoughts and ideas came to his mind. It's not very...reassuring. He paused, and checked his tools. The handle artifact was firmly strapped at his waist, and he took a look at his crossbow. Still well after the descent. Good.

He reloaded another bolt, and did a double check on the area. He needed to keep descending following the hole, that much was for sure. He unslung the Shopkeeper's device. Let's see if this thing works. It's going to be annoying on the way back, I am sure... He grimaced as he restarted his descent.

Royal Rumble!

Wolfram & Vera & Vernon 2.0

+

Celestine

@KillamriX88@Letter Bee @Crowvette @Dezuel @Bartimaeus

---

Celestine looked in dejection, as he was witness to the Doll not only failing to get on, but running on her merry way to what her addled mind assumed was safety. Could someone be more brain addled? he thought somehow ruefully, as the only highlight of his intervention seemed to vanish in the horizon. Of course, that was before both windshields exploded, and Vernon happened. He didn’t know what was worse, his lethal ice powers or his sass. Probably his sassy ice powers. Grimacing, after being forcefully pulled down to avoid a second swing from the hammer maniac covered in spikes, he eyed Vernon as he shook some glass out of his clothes, licking his lips as to find some kind of agreeable measure in his words that wasn’t invective after invective. Going hotblooded would do little good in the situation.

“What can I say, Vernon. Sometimes the newbies can’t wipe their own arses, and seniors must dive into the fray.” He paused. “Your reluctance is refreshing. I thought you liked spilling blood, very much so. Quite a difference from your...sweetheart.” He continued to speak as he was counting his glass shards.

“Which by the way he might be as blue blooded as that juvie investigator that -what are the odds- shares his surname as well as his looks.” He added, as he grasped and weighed the shards in his palm, now thanks to the timely assist of something he could not really describe whether it was a fox on steroids or a young woman.

“And I am eager to reveal such a cross-star fate to the world, should I find myself in the right company.” He paused. “Although if it was for a friend I would gladly keep a secret.”

Outside the car, Wolf stopped. He took a deep breath and slowly turned his head toward the fox girl who had apparently, and tragically, mistaken him for the aggressor in this situation.

“Back off…” Wolf growled his warning. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Well, you seem to have me at a disadvantage,” Vernon blinked his surprise away. “You know quite a bit about me, but I know so little about you.” He smirked. “OK, fair enough, oh Fallen One. We share a school, so I’ll play it safe. You keep my secret and I won’t get in your way.” He slid to the side and safe distance away from the masked intruder. “However, that is all on you.” Vernon pointed to the rage monster that was bearing down on them.

Only momentarily had Masami been able to distract him. Long enough for them to chat, but that time was just about up.

Celestine grinned, as he stoically assumed the failure. This was going to suck and it was going to be an uphill battle, but still, not being concerned about being blasted in the back by an ice shot… was a relief. As long as Vernon didn’t grow bored and feisty. He straightened his fist and threw a shower of glass shards at the armored man’s eyes, as he clutched his blade.

Tch. Out of all days, an opponent with armor with this kind of weapon. He said as he unsheathed it, but not before quipping once more. “Here’s a tidbit, Vernon. I remember everything. Up to… battle techniques.” He finished as he jumped out of the cramped space of the car, sword in tow.

Wolf shook his head. The glass had been a surprise. More surprising was how accurate the throw had been. It had stung a bit, but the shards were too big and dull to do much lasting damage.

A moment later and he could see again, his opponent already on their feet and out of the vehicle. It looked like it would be a fight then. Good.

“You could have hurt her.” Wolf snarled, tightening his grip on his hammer. “Now I’m going to hurt you.” With no further words, Wolf swung the hammer in an upward arc, aiming to tear her jaw clean off.

Celestine let a yelp as the hammer seemed to connect, catapulting him backwards against the car, his mouth spraying blood everywhere, as he seemed to fall half dead. The hit that had connected had felt awfully light.

Wolf showed an unusual lack of concern for the damage he’d apparently caused. He stomped over, reaching out a gauntleted hand to grab the masked person’s face, aiming to either tear the mask off or just crush it in his grip. Either way, he wanted to see the face of the idiot who’d run a car into him.

Instead, he found the tip of a sword shoved clean through the gaps of his gauntlet, digging deep in the flesh. To add further insult, the suddenness of the jolt shattered the tip of the weapon, leaving the knight’s hand with a metallic shard embedded on it. The Fallen One seemed to regain his poise as if he had never been hit, as he rolled to one side and jumped to his feet, eyeing his broken sword with a mix of dejection and glee.

“That hurt. I had to chew my cheeks to fake the blood.” He said, before resuming an stance with the remainder of his weapon. “I supposed a simple apology would not do.”

Wolf staggered back, both from pain and from embarrassment. He’d been sloppy. He should have been able to tell whether or not he’d landed that attack. He dropped the hammer and lifted his hand. He pushed the shard out of his skin and then yanked it the rest of the way out of his hand.

In a swirl of smoke the hammer returned to him, ready for round two. Round one had been pathetically short and not in his favor, but he’d see about changing that.

He gripped the middle of the handle and darted forward. Stabbing with a warhammer, one-handed no less, would by most people be considered ridiculous and impractical. Wolf didn’t have that problem. He aimed to impale his opponent on the top spike, and failing that, he’d spin and slide his grip down for an overhead smash, leaving them little room to run.

Heh. Celestine thought to himself, as he readied a battle stance. Releasing adrenaline. Enhancing muscle legs. Redirecting blood and oxygen. Let’s make this flashy. He thought mentally as he dung his heels and began to charge against the hammer. One. Two. His legs connected with the top of the hammer as he lunged to stab, using it as catapult to simply polevault over the charging knight, cartwheeling as he did so, and assuming his stance again.

“If you think that hammer will connect easily, you’re more green than i thought.” He quipped. One hit and I am a goner, though

Wolf didn’t let the flashy trick slow his combo. He loosened his grip, his hand slide to the end of it for maximum range and leverage, turned and flung it like the world’s heaviest, flying buzz-saw, not missing a beat. His opponent’s feet would have barely hit the ground as the hammer flew…

Right. He is a maniac. Welp, time for beating the world’s record at limbo Celestine added, as he squatted quite easily and fast, like a snake, the hammer being able to only graze his clothes exposing the fact that, he, of course had thought to wear the lingerie part on his chest.

Wolf didn’t seem too concerned with the fact that he’d missed. Obviously he could recall his hammer. That said, he started advancing before the hammer returned, fist’s clenched. Perhaps he was so angry that he’d discarded the weapon and now wanted to bloody the girl with his almost bare hands.

Then again, if that were the case, Celestine might find is strange that it sounded like the hammer was getting closer. Very close. Almost… right behind him.

That was because it was. Wolf had reformed it before it reached his hand, creating a makeshift boomerang shot.

Half expected that. Celestine added, as he sighed. This was getting nowhere. He thought for a moment, as the hammer returned. He tossed his sword to one side. He inhaled deeply, gathering inner strength. He saw the hammer spin. The moment to strike, two hands clasped the hammer as he absorbed the rotation with his full body, spinning like a half-naked ballerina while doing so, as he strained his limbs.

“Think again. Oh, nice hammer. It weighs a lot, tho.” He said, as he struggled to keep it above his head even with his arms flexed at the maximum. But he didn’t need to show it. “Let me show how it is done. Now c’me here, boy.” He added.

Wolf actually hesitated for a second. Just how strong was this waif of a girl? It must have been her power. That was… concerning. But if she thought she was gonna fight back with his hammer, she was sorely mistaken.

Wolf stomped forward, fists raised like a boxer. A very tired boxer with slightly sagging shoulders, but a boxer none-the-less.

He hefted the hammer, and begun to stomp forward, his rags and underwear dangling in the gash of his front. “TAKE THIS!” He yelled in his most Saturday-morning magical girl cartoon voice ever. And literally dropped the hammer to Wolf’s feet, as he slid inside his guard, and answered with a powerful jaw hook.

“You don’t use a hammer”.

Wolf’s head snapped to the side. And by snapped to the side, it sort of… twitched. That had been a cheap shot, and it certainly had held some force. Whatever strength had let her lift the hammer had been behind that punch.That being said...

Wolf’s hand flew out and grabbed their collar, pulling them in close, off their feet, and face-to-face. One-handed. He then threw a gut-punch before throwing her back to the ground and recalling his hammer.

He’d show her exactly how he used a hammer if she got cocky again.

“Of all the times, he listened to me this one.” Celestine wheezed under his breath, as some blood built up all the way to the throat. He coughed and spit, before cleaning his mouth underneath. Green as he may be, he can throw a mean punch too . “Ain’t that wonderful. And my cute suit is ripped. And now I have to go serious on a Delvers and Demons reject. And a gaggle of people are watching. Vernon too.” He added, as he picked up the broken blade. He inhaled… and took a stance. He honed his senses. He worked his inner strength with breathing. He got ready to use the techniques that were like so many and familiar to him.

“Sword can’t beat hammer. I know. But here we go,” he said, and began to hop his pace swiftly as he closed the gap between the two. He floated more than run, and danced more than he moved, his eyes on his opponent. The first strike came from downwards, towards the knee joint.

They were closing in, he’d have to be more careful. He choked up on his hammer, finding the energy to heft it with both hands. The hammer wasn’t heavy to him, not in this state, but his stamina was starting to decline. OK, fine, it was almost gone at this point.

He wished he could say he was fueled by rage, but it was a lean fuel.

He swung down with the hammer, not intending to hit, but to intercept as he himself slid back and away. He then lifted the hammer back up and thrust forward, a quick jab to try and keep his opponent in his longer weapon’s ideal range. He would then pull it back while also trying to crack the hilt across their jaw, aiming to stun them for a really big swing.

It was only due to the quick reflexes and training in the sword that Celestine managed to defend the attack, raising the rest of his blade to avoid being hit in his face, as he sidestepped the thrust, and absorbed the parry with his broken blade. However, the blade bent, as he smiled somewhat. “Nice combo, nerd. You’re learning.” He said, as he briskly jumped back, discarding his weapon. He could not face the hammer unarmed again, could he? It was when he realized he had a waist-bag, and rummaged through it, produced a tiny scalpel.

And then assumed a fencing stance, as he eyed his opponent.

Wolf was actually mildly concerned where most might just laugh. His opponent was incredibly nimble, and the scalpel was small and would be hard to keep track of. He took a more defensive stance, left arm held forward, and hammer held just below the head.

He advanced slowly, until he was just outside of striking range. He lunged, aiming to bat her weapon arm aside or parry an attack while throwing another hammer-jab.

Celestine did not make a move, instead abandoning the scalpel as a malevolent glint in his eye appeared. If such a defensive short range move, then… He danced as he positioned his back against Wolf’s armored chest, as he sidestepped the jab. But there was something more. Mid move, his arms curled around the parts of the bracers that didn’t have spikes, turning Wolf’s short lunge into ...a throw that used his own energy against him. If pulled correctly, he would flip over and stick himself to the pavement with his spikes. It’d probably scratch his own clothes and back and expose his butt to the world… but was probably worth it.

“Your strength can be used against you!” He harrumphed as he executed the maneuver.

For a moment, Wolf was like a turtle on it’s back, but soon enough he’d… well he’d…

Nope, he was stuck. Shit. He’d been so tired, he form had been looser than it should have been. He’d been unable to stop himself from getting thrown. His opponent was just the right mixture or strong and nimble.

He took a deep breath. He had to think of a way out fast…

“Aw, don’t look so down, Spikey. Believe me i had to bust my ass to beat you.” Celestine taunted as he took a hand to his now chipped mask’s lips and blew him a kiss, before stomping towards the car...and Vernon. He needed a change of clothes.

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

@AtomicNut
Actually our dragons don't seem to be with us anymore.

@Mardox

What do you have so far?

To Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

I may post a character, since you people seem accepting. But there seems to be enough dragons already. Hm...

Royal Rumble!

Celestine Lightbringer

@Letter Bee @Crowvette @Dezuel @KillamriX88

---

It was a hyena-like laughter what tipped Celestine of the position of their targets. He narrowed his eyes, as traffic signs and features became blur. His senses were struggling to cope with the tunnel vission, as the car roared, climbing up speed like a voracious predator. And in the middle of it all, her hearing tuned out to the maximum, trying to figure the faintest sound amidst the roaring of the expensive engine.

What a bunch of uncooperative assets. And you want to do a good tournament with these rags, Mephisto? Sometimes I find that you just order near impossible tasks to people for your amusement. He lamented as he drew closer. More people. Only one of the so-called kidnappers remained, surrounded by two fighters. One in spiky armor, looked like a heavy hitter. The other someone he had seen already at the school. Vernon. He never forgot one face, and that was no exception.

He was the one making the taunts, flailing as if he was in control. Well, to an extent, he was. The dolls of Galbrek proved as brainless and as haughty as their master, and had not thought of the most obvious. An escape plan.

Well, teaching how things are done to juniors is what a senior would do? Celestine smiled gleefully, still not lifting his foot from the pedal. And then , suddenly, with the reflexes of a street racer or someone really insane, turned the steering wheel and hit the handbrake. The car swerved violently, as G-forces were set into motion, and skidded sideways making an awful racket... And directly into the fray. Well, if Vernon and that guy want to argue with more than a ton of metal and horsepower at ludicrous speed, let them become roadkill. They probably won't be much of a show in the tournament if they can't dodge this in time. thought the effeminate driver to himself as he continued on his warpath of burnt tires and screeching brakes.

SKREEEEEEEEEE....

The car seemingly stopped skillfully right next to the doll that was still holding the hostage, giving them a light tap in the process. And as if on cue, the door of the transport jolted open, its driver eyeing the doll with conviction and urgency.

"I am the Fallen One." He said solemny, his masked visage eyeing the doll and Andras.

"Come with me if you want to live." He sentenced.

Made in Abyss [Closed]

@liferusher

More distractions, just what I needed right now. Sieg thought in his mind as he shrugged off the friction of the rope in his fast descent, intent on reaching the sources of the screams. A lot of things could wait. Even so, when he hear about the piece of gear thrown his way, he made a mental effort to catch it, and listen to the instructions on how to use it. It felt as a disgusting way to wash off guilt, but he accepted it nonetheless. There was no such thing as too many tools when delving in this unnatural precipice that was the Abyss.

He continued descending, his eyes peering out for the signs of the flame bolt he had thrown earlier, to make more accurate estimates. When the rope ran out, he began to laboriously use the device to descend. Eventually he noticed the flicker of flame, as he redoubled his efforts to find the little girl's crash site.

Please let her be alive. I would hate to haul a mangled corpse back up. He thought to himself as he inhaled and began to call.

OOOI! Little Girl! We're coming for you, hang in there!

Royal Rumble!

Big gal

Hider

Name:

Meredith Blackgate

Age:

16

Grade:

St Laurel's 1st Year.

Biography:

Meredith was born as a half-demon sacrifice in order to achieve a grand plan of opening a big portal to Hell. It didn't work. Mommy was a nasty succubus who had tricked father into having a fling with her, and raised Meredith as cattle. She did not even have a name back then. But there was one big flaw on the entire plan. Father was to be a man of powerful attributes, and when he caught wind of what was happening, he foiled the demon's plans and rescued the until then unknown and unwanted child.

While initially Meredith was as vicious and as bitter as a wild animal, the care and presence of other humans and having a loving father substantially mellowed her out. Also the fact that her otherwise demonic woman had been tamed by his father into becoming an actual mother did help a lot. No longer she was a snarling little half-demon, but became a rather gentle and happy-go-lucky soul who was always eager to share her things and make new friends. (Probably because of fear of being a lone half-demon again). Her half demonic inheritage also meant that her skill as power user was great, and his father, a known hero of several victories against demons, enrolled her in St. Laurel's, since it was the place where she would reach the most of her potential.

Since then, she has tried her best to help her fellow students, even if sometimes feels like her powers might outstay her welcome in the institution... She is extremely fond of food, and a hearty eater. She eats for five people, allegedly.

Powers:

Core Power:Demonic Heart: Meredith houses a particularly powerful demonic magic within herself. She has an unusual amount of raw demonic power for a half-demon or a demon, and she is able to shoot it in raw magic blasts or dissipate projectiles with counter blasts (both uses are extremely inefficient). The demonic energies also imbue her body and make her pretty strong, fast and durable, able to survive and heal wounds that don't affect her brain or heart.

• 1st Power- Shape of the Damned: Meredith can manifest her demonic traits, such as wings and a rather wiggly tail. It also enables her to fly quite proficiently (but it is quite ridiculous with all the bouncing).
  2nd Power-Demonic Glyphs: The ill gained art of her own mother, she knows how to employ demonic runes proficiently. To maximize the effect, they have to be drawn in blood, preferably that of a half-demon or a maiden. Given she is both (for now), she often uses her own blood. These runes have a variety of effects such as burning black flames, summoning small dog-sized imps, or more importantly, enchanting places or weapons and healing and purifying aswell.
  3rd Power-Empress of the Night.Being a powerful half-succubus, she can enter people's dreams and keep them in an asleep state while she can control the dream with nigh-godlike powers based in the character's worst fears. The target must be asleep and she has to have intimate touch with them. Of course, targets are able to be woken up, albeit it is harder to do so than normal (but still causing physical pain to the victim will cancel out this power). This ability also plunders the lifeforce of a target while it is trapped, and empowers Meredith, just like the succubi of legend.

Relationships:

She likes everyone. She doesn't really judge. Except perhaps Galbrek.