Oh wow, are Chiya and Umi really just gonna take off?
Baklava Member
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- Old Guild Username: FMAlchemist
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Evac Team
Lawrence | Marcus | Savannah | Sophia | Callan | Emma
๐: ๐๐๐ก๐ฅ. ๐๐, ๐๐๐๐ / / ๐๐๐ค๐๐ ๐ฃ๐, ๐๐๐ฃ๐ช๐๐๐๐ / / ๐๐ ๐จ๐ / / ~๐๐๐๐
Collab with @VampireOracle @Chasers115 @Baklava @January @Diggerton
As Marcus nervously waited for the doors to swing open at any moment, his twitchy finger was almost set off by the series of quick shouts behind him, causing him to jump and whirl around just in time to see two gargantuan wings sprout from one of their passengers. The girl who had been hiding behind the scarf.
He had no time to let out the expletive he intended to shout, instead being thrown sharply from the vehicle as the air escaped his lungs and Savannah was pulled screaming out of the vehicle. His shotgun clattered from his hands as he hit the ground, but was quickly retrieved as Marcus lunged towards it, quickly turning to the newest threat, attempting to stead himself into a kneeling position.
Sparing no time to gaze upon the newest threat's features, he pulled the trigger once, aiming to shoot her in the center mass. The shotgun nearly wrenched itself from Marcus's hands as he fired, not prepared for the increased recoil, and as the tail slap sent him sprawling across the dirt, the shotgun bounced away from him.
As he pulled himself up again and reached for his pistol, he began to feel weightless. The gravity controlling mage was at it again, and there would be no way for them to defend themselves with her in play.
Marcus looked around, trying to find the source. Every mage had a telegraph; he had his static, Sophia's eyes glowed, Grant had his chains. One of them had to be- there!
He spotted the woman with the yellow hands, twisting and trying to aim as he floated off the ground, taking a clumsy shot at her as he struggled to maneuver.
With her attention fixed on the back doors and what was about to happen, Sophia didn't see what was happening nearby until she felt something bang against her, nearly knocking her off her seat. She let out a quick shriek of surprise, watching as a set of clothes flashed past her and out the doors along with three other people. Marcus, one of the men, and Savannah. A screaming Savannah.
It took her a second to realize what was wrong. The person who had slammed the nearby people against the wall couldn't have been strong enough to do that without some kind of power... meaning that there had been another subnatural with them in the APC. As if on cue, the ten minute timer on her power ran out once more and she was able to see what was really happening. Upon catching sight of the winged and clothed monster pinning down Savannah, she got up from her seat and began to scramble backwards away from the back of the truck, only half realizing what she was doing.
Her attention was fixed upon the winged woman as she continued her transformation, not even looking at Marcus until the path of the woman's tail collided with him. Oh no. Lawrence had been injured, Marcus was beginning to float, Savannah was pinned down. She was the only one in her team who had the potential to do something unhindered, but she couldn't do anything. Her power was useless. Even if she could shoot well enough, bullets did nothing against the winged thing. Her power was absolutely useless and weak, and therefore, so was she.
Marcus's shot hit the ground in front of his intended target, forcing her to step backwards, but not far enough that there was any noticeable difference to the field she projected.
The shots from Brent hadn't gone past her notice, either, and though her ally was blocking the sniper's line of sight for the moment, it was only a matter of time, especially if the USARILN mage had any other tricks up his sleeve. With Dreamcatcher's absurd magic anything was a possibility.
"Take them out! Quickly!" she shouted to her comrades as the three of them stepped back behind the safety of the armored car so the demonic Aberration could move freely.
Anchored to the ground and relatively safe from anything in the immediate vicinity, the clawed Aberration girl grabbed at Savannah's throat, squeezing as the girl's screams broke into jagged, choking noises.
Her small hands had no effect on the now rough skin of the mage's transformation and even a spell sigil placed right on the demon's forehead did little more than ignite in a fiery explosion that would have nearly killed anything less durable. The Aberration girl simply barked out a series of sharp, angry sounds that finally fell into enough rhythm for laughter, clutching tighter until Savannah's arms went limp.
Bits of shattered asphalt exploded at Callan's feet with every stride.
"Callan, they'll be to your right." Brent's voice was just barely audible over her own footsteps and breathing, which was bordering on a wheeze as the heavy feeling in her chest persisted. "Four subnaturals now. Blond-ponytail can create spikes out of pre-existing material, black hair girl has some sort of anti-gravity or telekinesis, and the male's ability is unknown. Fourth is some bullet-resistant gargoyle, pinning down Savannah."
Turning right down the nearest street, her eyes fell on the APC. Everything was as Brent had explained. The question of who she should go for first, however, was given little forethought as she surged forward.
"HEY!"
The four hostiles turned to face Callan, but wasted no time gawking. A wave of the blonde girl's arm brought up a wall of spikes to shield movement from the sniper as she and the black-haired girl moved away, leaving the winged monster and the dark-skinned man behind, though the anti-gravity Aberration maintained her field even as she moved.
For his part, the man made sure to stay squarely behind the truck as ice particles shimmered and condensed around his body, spreading outwards from his feet along the ground, then into the surrounding air. Where he stood closest to the APC's wall, the metal there became ice-cold to the touch before slowly freezing solid.
The sound of another voice caught Marcus's attention as he floated around, helplessly watching Savannah get strangled. He craned his neck to look, happier to see a streak of aquamarine than he had ever been. His mind didn't ask any questions about why she had suddenly appeared, all to grateful for the intervention.
"Hit the rock-lady!" Marcus shouted, perhaps a bit unnecessarily. Callan's sudden arrival had put the subnaturals into a defensive position, one that he'd be able to take advantage of if he could only aim properly.
His mind raced to come up with a plan. Something he could do to help before his entire team got wiped out by a product of his own carelessness. He did the one thing he could do in the situation - he rewound.
The sound of static faded as he found himself back towards the ground, but still floating. He mentally cursed himself for not using his power sooner - another one of his, thus far, numerous mistakes. Still, maybe he could do something with this.
He pushed the ground with his hand, sending his body into a lazy rotation. It probably would have been a hilarious scene at any other time - him slowly spinning in midair - but he at least had line of sight on the subnaturals who were crowding the APC, including the one with glowing hands.
One last desperate attempt he could try. Reaching into his holster, he pulled out the one thing he'd not used yet - the flare gun. As he waited for his body to spin into just the right position, he was vaguely aware of the sounds of other voices he couldn't locate. He ignored them, right now he had to focus. Marcus breathed deeply once, took aim at the anti-gravity mage's face, and squeezed the brightly colored trigger.
Callan was the fighter, his power didn't allow for much more than support - if he could distract, or even force the bad guys to shift their focus to him, he was doing his part.
It didn't take long for Emma to arrive, aided by Determination's speed. Anyone looking in her direction would be greeted by the sight of her desperately clutching onto her Tulpa's back as it sped down the street, suddenly stopping as it came within view of the APC. Emma dismounted, turning to take in the fight before her. Callan and Marcus already moved to fight the enemies, but Emma took a second to process the situation. Savannah was pinned to the ground... and she had stopped struggling.
That was a bad sign.
Lawrence was also downed and bleeding severely, red pooling underneath him. Emma brought a hand to her mouth, tears threatening to break- but now wasn't the time for that. She had to help them. "Get the gargoyle off of Savannah! And be careful, make sure to not hurt her!" she said to the Tulpa. Emma layed her hand on the knife- just in case.
Recognizing Savannah's dilemma as Marcus directed her attention to it, Callan set her sights on the gargoyle. As she neared, she heard a second familiar voice calling out some distance away. Emma was here? Of course she was here. Marcus was her boyfriend. As quickly as the thought came, however, it was gone. Recentering herself, she focused on what needed to be done, leaping towards the enemy in hopes of knocking her off of the young blonde aberration.
Callan's tackle caught the gargoyle just as Marcus's flare shot hit the black-haired girl dead on. She screamed as the flare flashed and burned her face before the cartridge fell to the ground only seconds before she did, crying and clawing at the likely permanent damage to her eyes.
Without her conscious control the targeted antigravity field disappeared, dropping all its victims to the ground. The ice field was still spreading and thickening, however, and the blonde-haired girl spared her a single glance before abandoning her, escaping the field before it reached critical levels.
Perhaps, in the series of events that occurred, a different action would have saved Savannah. Or perhaps not.
As frost steadily coalesced on everyone within the ice Aberration's field, the impact of Callan's charge against the gargoyle had two effects.
1. She and the demonic girl flew over eight meters away from the APC, crashing into the ground together.
But the Aberration's clawed grip on Savannah's throat remained.
2. On landing, the small girl's body continued moving with the momentum. The gargoyle's hand and its unnatural strength did not.
There was a sharp snapping sound. Savannah's neck bent at an absurd angle.
And the Aberration released the corpse, howling and swiping at the superhuman mage on top of it.
As soon as Callan made contact with the demonic aberration, time seemed to move as if it were drowning in mud. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a small body moving with them. That wasn't supposed to happen. They crashed into the ground and a loud snap brought everything in her mind screeching to a terrifying halt. That wasn't supposed to happen. She turned her head just enough to see as Savannah's body slide out of the gargoyle's grasp. Her breath hitched in her throat as honey gold eyes, wide and lifeless, stared back at her. Those eyes burned themselves permanently into her mind in the split second she had to observe.
Her fault.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
Callan was forced to look away as razor sharp claws embedded themselves in her cheek, carving out four linear divots as her head turned. Anger and regret washed over her in the form of nausea, but there wasn't time to stop and be sick. She could even feel her shadow beginning to bubble up from the distress of seeing her teammate's lifeless body, but there wasn't time. Wasn't time to lose control. Wasn't even time to think. Her brain buzzed with static. This girl-- no-- monster. She shared the blame for what had just happened. She couldn't be allowed to hurt anyone else. "RRRGH!" Callan screamed through her teeth in irate frustration, though her lungs painfully protested. Callan lifted her fist and sent it flying towards the creature's face, already cocking her other fist for a second blow.
He hit the ground, sadistically pleased with the sound of crying that had denoted his hit. On Callan's end, she'd done well, sending the gargoyle, herself, and Savannah sailing across the battlefield. She'd probably need a healing after a fall like that, but-
The sickening sound of crunching bone, and the young girl's sudden stop caused Marcus's heart to skip, and his stomach to do several flips. She was throw to the side like a ragdoll, and although he didn't want to acknowledge it, he knew. She was dead - no amount of healing could fix that.
A million different emotions coursed through him - he was angry at Callan's recklessness, he was furious at himself for letting this happen, distraught, sickened, afraid. All of them whirling around in his head, threatening to burst from him.
Later.
No time to stop and think about them now; there were people that were still in danger.
Always later.
Right now, he was allowing one emotion to slip through. The current offender was Ice Man. He gripped his crowbar tightly, the sound of static filling his ears.
He was vaguely aware of Emma being nearby. He should have called out to her, asked her to get Lawrence to one of the healer groups. Or maybe he should have gotten Lawrence into the APC. So many strategies, lost to the breeze.
It didn't matter. Right now, anger was clouding his judgement. He rushed forward, a sudden sprint with the aid of a fast-forward jump, bringing his weapon down on the man.
Oh god.
Determination had moved to do as she had asked, but all too late. Callan got there first, and what happened next... Emma didn't know if she wanted to blame herself, Callan, or the gargoyle. Maybe they all shared the blame. If Emma had been there quicker, if Cal had been more careful, if Marcus had done a better job of protecting the little girl...
That and approximately a hundred other thoughts raced through her head. Her stigma roared. Determination was gone.
Useless, again. Can't save anyone.
An unsteady breath came out of Emma. She watched the scene unfold, on the verge of crying or maybe screaming. Maybe both. By all accounts she should be doing something right now- fighting to save Marcus, to save Cal, to save Lawrence... but her body wouldn't move. Her Tulpas wouldn't come. Her grip on the knife was lost.
She was filled with fear. They were all going to die.
In
.:: โค๐๐๐๐ - ๐๐๐๐ค๐ก๐๐ฃ๐ค ๐๐ ๐ฅ๐๐ โ๐๐๐๐ฅ ::.
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7 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
The Graveyard
ยขฮฑโฮฑฮทฯฮท.
ฮฑัะผฯโัฯ ั.
ะบัฮฑฮท.
ะบฯ ะผฮฑ.
ฯโัฮฑัั ัเธ ีัะณ ัะฝั ััะผฯโั.
ฮฑัะผฯโัฯ ั.
ะบัฮฑฮท.
ะบฯ ะผฮฑ.
ฯโัฮฑัั ัเธ ีัะณ ัะฝั ััะผฯโั.
The voice filled the minds of the tardy party, its tone patient and gentle, but still retaining the same sense of urgency as before. As they neared the steps leading to the entrance of the ominous Shadow Temple, a slim figure emerged quickly from the opening.
As the figure stopped at the head of the stairs, it became immediately evident that it was a shiekah. Donning standard black and blue shiekah armor, unremarkable yet practical, a long signal orange scarf wrapped around their head and pinned at the shoulders spilled behind them almost like a tail. Bandages engulfed the strangerโs forearms and hands and a pair of intricate twin blades, one noticeably larger than the other, peaked out from behind their back.
Beneath the scarf, bandages could also be seen wrapped around the forehead and crossing over the right eye. The left eye, bright red with long lashes, stared down at the group in mild surprise. A black mask completely covered the rest of the strangers face from the bridge of their nose down. The Eye of Truth in red marked their leather breastplate. It was nigh impossible to determine whether the shiekah was male or female. Their frame was very lean and muscular with legs that seemed to better resemble bamboo poles than human appendages. From what little skin could be seen, they seemed almost sickly fair. Nonetheless, the shiekah seemed to demonstrate strength as they stood there openly, rigid as a tombstone with head held high.
They stood there for only but a moment before leaping over steps and people alike, racing out of the graveyard without a single word of acknowledgement to anyone.
Upon ascending the steps and making their way past the entrance shrouded by a cold curtain of darkness, the group would find themselves inside a large room filled with many torches. Each torch flickered with a mysterious blue flame. At the head of the room, rubble from a once large and ornate door lay at the foot of the opening which led to a long hallway with an endless ceiling. No further instructions came by way of the voice. The way was clear.
Left Tunnel Group
Though the mighty beast had no mouth with which to scream, its hand recoiled in pain as a ball of fire was hurled into its open palm before it could grasp the Poe. The deku nut thrown by Veitaru didn't quite reach Bongo Bongo's eye, but it did cause the petal like flaps surrounding it to close momentarily. Then, its torso and eye completely vanished from view. Only the shining golden armor remained visible.
Nonetheless, the drumming continued. That is, until Noi threw off the beat. Landing beside Noi at the same moment he forced his weight into the drum, the extra tension launched Veitaru much higher than usual. The drumming paused as the other hand balled itself into a fist and launched towards Noi before his body could hit the drum a second time. It punched him clear off the platform while Veitaru landed atop the gleaming gold plates that protected the knuckles, presenting her with the chance to grab hold or else face the same fate as the hulking robot.
The burnt hand hovered in place, fingers arched as it recovered from the Poe's fiery blast. The shallow scorch marks were healing before Lev's eyes.
๐: ๐๐๐ก๐ฅ. ๐๐, ๐๐๐๐ / / ๐๐๐ค๐๐ ๐ฃ๐, ๐๐๐ฃ๐ช๐๐๐๐ / / ๐๐ ๐จ๐ / / ~๐๐๐๐
๐๐๐๐๐๐ค๐๐ง๐ ๐๐ฆ๐ก๐ก๐ ๐ฃ๐ฅ/๐๐ฅ๐ฃ๐๐๐๐ฃ๐ค
With the net rendered useless and the spiders gone, nothing impeded Siena's attack as it tore through the nearest centipede's head, sending spasms down the creature's body and finally rendering it immobile.
Angel's scream pushed the dead creatures backwards into the centipede circling on the outer ring and the remaining sweep of Hazel's hand disintegrated over half of its body, leaving just a twitching tail length behind.
A burst of white light from nearby blasted a wide path through the small dirt hill that had buried Ethan and Genevieve during Factory's fall and the two of them clambered slowly out of the ring-shaped patch of smooth earth that had been the effect of the barrier preventing the worst of the dust storm from reaching them. As Genevieve complained about the bits of soil in her hair, Ethan looked towards the fallen form of Factory, noting as his gaze swept over them the fallen clockworks nearby.
As if Factory's fall and the partial destruction of the subnatural inside the core had signaled the end of the fighting's worst, the remaining creatures seemed to lose the single-minded purpose they had prior.
The collector nearest the offensive support team jerked suddenly, its movements faltering into repetitive motions with its outstretched hands while the lights on its face blinked sporadically. With a modicum more autonomy than its peers, the construct limped and hobbled on legs that no longer moved in tandem, the inside chamber of its body breaking apart with the loss of vital administrative functions that had set and maintained the inner segmentation of its body.
The weak screams and pained groans from inside its form ceased rapidly after a brief burst of muffled crackling and watery noises.
The three dogs that had shaken themselves free from the impromptu burial in debris collapsed as well once their legs refused to move in any useful pattern, sliding along the ground almost pitifully before several shots of light vaporized the majority of their bodies, leaving behind the scorched remains of their densest parts.
Only the sky serpent remained actively fighting, meeting Chris's charge head-on with an open maw, swallowing the dragon whole just as the last of the subnatural's fine control on his clockworks dissolved into mindless static that barely held together independent function.
The change was immediate.
Every scale on the snake's body spasmed, displacing and realigning rapidly in no apparent order, revealing the minute construction of its inner workings where strange gears and cogs whirred and spun beyond their proper speed, some breaking and others snapping off their places, flying outwards as its body spat up parts in the malfunction. The systems holding it aloft failed and basic movement mechanisms ground to a stuttering halt. With Chris clamped in its jaw, the massive creature crashed to the ground, its body sprawling out across the ridged hill of Wisford and the spasming Factory.
Beside the toppled behemoth's chest lay the large sphere missing a ragged chunk as if someone had taken multiple bites from it. There was little human left in the vaguely humanoid shape that was almost enmeshed into the metal with only its torso visible, and the black strands of liquid that pooled from the missing head could hardly be called blood.
Nearby, a broken cranium had been thrown carelessly aside, the back and sides of the metallic skull crushed by two hand-shaped gouges. A face had been in the process of merging with metal, the front of it separated from the head by careful metallic wiring and joints as the power worked to replace every organic part with alloys.
Now the thin plating of the face lay looking upwards besides the rest of its head, one eye already mechanized and broken off in the struggle.
But the rest of the person it used to be was still recognizable in the glassy glaze of the dead eye staring into the last vestiges of dusk.
Aaron.
Ethan watched the large construct's uncoordinated movements a moment longer before coughing and spitting out some of the dust in his mouth. Eventually, he turned towards the group of combatants nearby, walking over slowly with Genevieve. Several of them he recognized from the fight near the Institute's grounds and he really should have pinned more faces to his memory when the rest also seemed familiar.
"We'll go have a look," he spoke between heavy breaths, gesturing at the fallen clockwork titan. "You guys can head back to the drop-off point. ...Good work."
In the distance, the roving, jittering collector caught his eye and he pointed at the teetering creature.
"Can I leave mopping up to you guys?"
๐ผ๐ง๐๐๐ฆ๐๐ฅ๐๐ ๐
While Marcus, Dean, and the old man got into position, the opposing trio approached the back doors. Inside the APC, the girl with black hair silently stood from her seat amidst the other passengers. Facing their backs, she gripped her scarf tightly while holding it over her nose. Beneath the fabric, a rapturous smile blossomed as her features slowly distorted. The changes were small and subtle at first. Easy to miss. Before the doors swung open, however, a chorus of staccato shouts served as the only warning for the pandemonioum that was to come.
Two large, sturdy bat-like wings sprang from the girl's back, roughly slamming the nearby survivors against the inner wall of the vehicle. She now possessed sharp claws where fingers should be as well as talons for feet, which were used to grab Savannah's leg just before she launched herself towards the half open doors, bowling over those stationed beside them. Dean, who was already out of the line of fire, pressed himself up against wall and avoided the charge.
Anticipating their comrade, the trio of aberrations had quickly backed away from the doors upon opening them. They were sure to give the winged girl plenty of girth as she knocked Marcus and the old man clear out of the APC, sharply dragging a screaming Savannah along the way.
The perfectly aimed beams from Brent were, in that moment, obscured by her passing as she flew out of the doors. Three smoking black marks upon the tough webbing that made up the girl's wings seemed to be the only evidence of his hard work. She came to a stop, spreading her wings to block Brent from any addition shots directed at her allies while she pinned Savannah's torso to the ground with the claws of her feet. Savannah kicked frantically, pulling at the heavy claws on either side of her neck and shoulders in vain. The girl turned a pair of yellow cat-like eyes in Brent's direction with an aggravated expression marring her already distorted features.
Between a pair of large, pointed ears, two black horns protruded from the girl's forehead. Her nose had shortened and scrunched between her eyes, forming a knot of angry wrinkles where her brows met. Elevated cheekbones as well as the upper lip set her mouth into a permanent snarl that revealed a set of sharp fangs. A large, powerful reptilian tail extended from beneath the back of her black petticoat. In a sweeping motion, she swung it towards the downed time mage, aiming to knock the shotgun away.
The older looking aberration with black hair gestured towards the them, her hand glowing yellow as debris and bodies alike began to float. The gargoyle girl dug her claws into the dirt to keep herself from floating away, though her hair and the loose ends of her clothing moved weightlessly about her person.
๐ป๐๐๐๐๐ค๐๐ง๐ ๐๐ฆ๐ก๐ก๐ ๐ฃ๐ฅ/โ๐๐๐๐๐ฃ ๐๐๐๐๐ค
Kusariโs attack managed to halt the collector. The breaching hammer, propelled by the unnatural strength of her monster limb, connected with the massive creatureโs head, creating a huge dent on the smooth surface dotted with the thin grooves of its red eyes. Right at that moment, Allison went in with her blade, the magic slicing off the two front legs with ease. With only its two hind legs left, the creature stumbled, but its arms were still reaching out toward the mages.
Then the connection from its creator dimmed to a flicker.
Abruptly, the grasping arms went limp and crashed into the ground with the front half of its body, throwing up dust and debris. Its remaining legs still moved jerkily, as if trapped in some sort of twisted momentum. Slowly, the creature pushed itself along the broken ground, still heading toward the mages. As it moved, the hatch on the front of its torso went lax, blood and bodies spilling out to litter the ground, marking the creatureโs trail in vivid red and choked gasps from people who had barely survived.
Near the other healer team, the other collector wes exhibiting the same pattern of movement: its limbs spasmed and jerked, sending it slamming into a nearby wall. The collision left the creature with a deformed head, the lights on its head sporting cracks. Yet, it repeated the motion, pounding against the wall again and again, until the surface broke before its weight. Free of any obstacle in its path, the creature charged forward, moving head first into another wall.
To the far right of town, another collector was stumbling about, its failing limbs dead weight as it weaved back and forth between the buildings.
๐: ๐๐๐ก๐ฅ. ๐๐, ๐๐๐๐ / / ๐๐๐ค๐๐ ๐ฃ๐, ๐๐๐ฃ๐ช๐๐๐๐ / / ๐๐ ๐จ๐ / / ~๐๐๐๐
Callan fell into another coughing fit as she pushed herself back to her feet again. The dirt in the air aggravated the burning in her lungs, more droplets of blood accumulating in the palm of her hand as she tried to get it under control.
Through the clearing of dust, she could see Sander and the orb in the distance.
โIโฆ killed it." His voice came through her communicator. She enjoyed a brief moment of relief before the message kept going. "I willโฆ kill the next one.โ
What? She watched as Sander turned towards her, breaking into a sprint. At the same time, she heard a muffled sound. It seemed to be coming from inside the mine. She wasn't given much time to investigate as her transmitter came to life again. She looked to the device on her ankle, as if it might provide some answers. The only discernible sound that she could make out... was screaming. Who--
Before the gears could turn enough for her to put two and two together, Brent's voice came through her transmitter with a message that caused her hair to stand on end.
โOffensive Support, Strikers, Healer Teams, Gregory,โ Brent said, excluding Evac from the message, โThe APC has been attacked by three subnaturals. One male with olive skin, one female with black hair, and another with blond hair in a ponytail. Necks hidden. Donโt know their powers yet. Donโt message anyone on Evac team. Lawrence is down and the rest are missing.โ
Evac team.
Marcus.
She immediately turned away from the mine and looked towards the town. Lawrence was down? Did... did that mean he was dead? Several thoughts raced through her mind at once, most focused on trying to decide what to do. She felt an immense sadness at the news, but panic and a strong desire to do something overpowered everything else in that moment. Lawrence was supposed to be the most seasoned out of their group. If he'd been taken out, then Marcus and the others were in real danger.
โCallan, can you hear me? Go into town. Factoryโs down, but we have possibly even more enemy subnaturals in Wisford. Weโll need your help.โ
The word 'go' was all she needed to finally make up her mind, though her brain still felt like a mare's nest of thoughts as she moved forward, racing past Sander without so much as a word.
Where? Where were they? She didn't have her map. She couldn't stop and ask Brent using her cuff-- the people attacking Marcus would hear. The burning in her lungs returned as she sprinted past the offensive support group and into town. Gun shots and a pained shout rang out from her transmitter. It didn't sound like Marcus, but it sent her heart racing even faster.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
Whoever it was, their misfortune had given her a vague direction at least. She tore through the streets with purpose, the echo of that gunshot still ringing in her ears as she silently prayed the cuff would remain silent until she got there. No more gun shots. No more lives lost. The hulking Collectors and decimated buildings barely registered in her mind as they flew through her peripheral.
๐: ๐๐๐ก๐ฅ. ๐๐, ๐๐๐๐ / / ๐๐๐ค๐๐ ๐ฃ๐, ๐๐๐ฃ๐ช๐๐๐๐ / / ๐๐ ๐จ๐ / / ~๐๐๐๐
Scrambling to her feet once she was free from the wreckage, Callan vainly rubbed her palms against her thighs in an attempt to clean them off. It was no use-- she was absolutely covered in a stubborn layer of dirt. The dust had yet to settle and she coughed as she waved her hand in front of her face. The action brought less relief than she'd hoped-- awakening a peculiar ache inside her chest. She tried not to think about it.
A few slivers of light pierced through the mine's opening, still mostly clogged with shattered support beams, rocks, and dirt, some of which was still very damp from the rain. With it being so cloudy, the light was faint, but it was enough. Focusing on that, Callan set to work. Tossing rocks aside, she dug as fast as she could-- stopping only to curse when the movement of one particular rock caused a miniature collapse.
Finally managing to create an opening big enough to crawl through, Callan climbed out. Setting her sights on Factory, she ran, still trying to ignore the burning in her lungs.
Meh... too lazy to edit unless Ave or Delta says anything. *shrug*
In
Let's B!tch. I feel it's a healthy release for our roleplay annoyances 2.0
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7 yrs ago
Forum: Roleplaying Discussion
LOL. Ugh. I LOVE mean characters, though. Love playing them when I'm feelin' ballsy enough. Love playin' WITH them. Love all the flaws.
Honestly, as soon as I catch on that someone has trouble separating their character from themselves (as far as things happening to them IC goes), I have a hard time taking them seriously at all. I get that some people like to play characters that are similar to themselves-- there's nothing wrong with that. Not everyone is here to explore all the different sort of characters they can play. I get it. I'm guilty of it sometimes, too!
But GAWD.
Even if the character isn't at all like you-- and I think this goes back to the "show, don't tell" thing-- you shouldn't get mad at other people for 'misinterpreting' your character unless it's obvious the other person simply isn't reading what you write.
For example-- say your character is meant to be a "handsome smooth talker", but you're ass at writing smooth dialogue. I dunno, can you really get mad if other people respond to your character like he's a weirdo instead of Mr. Smooth? Of course we'll have to acknowledge that he's good looking, but come on. I get this is a hobby and not everyone is here to improve, but don't expect other people to pick up the slack for you all the time.
Why people gotta be so defensive about their characters, anyway? Learn to recognize when it's YOUR fault your character is being interpreted a certain way by the other characters. Understand when it's the CHARACTERS interpreting them as such and not the players.
And hell, I would consider it hilarious if one of my characters was mistaken for a pervert when they totally weren't. And I applaud the inclusion of such things like sexism and misogynist ideals as character flaws. They're real life issues! Why pretend they don't exist? Seems really narrow minded to label a character as "too flawed" like that. I mean. Unless the GM is creating a utopia where complete and total equality has been achieved. But even then, I generally frown upon GMs trying to control the opinions of characters concerning their plot.
Honestly, as soon as I catch on that someone has trouble separating their character from themselves (as far as things happening to them IC goes), I have a hard time taking them seriously at all. I get that some people like to play characters that are similar to themselves-- there's nothing wrong with that. Not everyone is here to explore all the different sort of characters they can play. I get it. I'm guilty of it sometimes, too!
But GAWD.
Even if the character isn't at all like you-- and I think this goes back to the "show, don't tell" thing-- you shouldn't get mad at other people for 'misinterpreting' your character unless it's obvious the other person simply isn't reading what you write.
For example-- say your character is meant to be a "handsome smooth talker", but you're ass at writing smooth dialogue. I dunno, can you really get mad if other people respond to your character like he's a weirdo instead of Mr. Smooth? Of course we'll have to acknowledge that he's good looking, but come on. I get this is a hobby and not everyone is here to improve, but don't expect other people to pick up the slack for you all the time.
Why people gotta be so defensive about their characters, anyway? Learn to recognize when it's YOUR fault your character is being interpreted a certain way by the other characters. Understand when it's the CHARACTERS interpreting them as such and not the players.
And hell, I would consider it hilarious if one of my characters was mistaken for a pervert when they totally weren't. And I applaud the inclusion of such things like sexism and misogynist ideals as character flaws. They're real life issues! Why pretend they don't exist? Seems really narrow minded to label a character as "too flawed" like that. I mean. Unless the GM is creating a utopia where complete and total equality has been achieved. But even then, I generally frown upon GMs trying to control the opinions of characters concerning their plot.
๐: ๐๐๐ก๐ฅ. ๐๐, ๐๐๐๐ / / ๐๐๐ค๐๐ ๐ฃ๐, ๐๐๐ฃ๐ช๐๐๐๐ / / ๐๐ ๐จ๐ / / ~๐๐๐๐
Chris. The serpent. Fire. She didn't see the rest of what happened before her feet suddenly left the ground. The giant metal hand slammed into her just as she turned to face it, obscuring her vision and propelling Callan backwards into the entrance of one of the old mine tunnels. Hitting the inner wall with a heavy thud, she felt her lungs sharply expel some blood along with the rest of her breath. The earth trembled and the roof of dirt and rocks caved in on top of her as she hit the ground, catching herself on her hands and knees.
An earthy scent filled her nose as she instinctively rose her hands above her head, still coughing up a few more flecks of blood while trying not to let the sight of it get her too flustered. The job wasn't over yet. A few drops of blood were nothing compared to her leg injury last time. Feeling the uncomfortable grit of dirt between her teeth as the collapse finally settled, she dug her way out, pushing heavy chunks of rock aside as though she were wading through a ball pit.
Oh, I get it now, Makoto frowned, furrowing his brow as Elizabeth gushed over the dingy interior of the room Arden's door-opening had revealed. Of course.
What had he been expecting?
She's crazy... They're all crazy.
Once again considering how easily he could reclaim his part-time job back home, Makoto's expression lit up with surprise as the woman stepped through the classroom's threshold and... disappeared?! When Arden followed suit, he took a startled step back, nearly bumping into a younger blonde haired girl as she trudged confidently forward. Wait! he wanted to say, but bit back the words. Should they be trusting this woman so easily? What if this was all an elaborate trick?
Stop being such a 'fraidy cat, Makoto!
Yeah, Makoto! Don't puss out on us now!
The jeering voices of his brothers echoed in the back of his mind. Old memories. Very old. Old like the look of this school. Like his worries, which always seemed to rear their ugly heads whenever he was faced with anything so... new. Old and yet new. It was the mystery that frightened him most. Indeed, at the end of the day, Makoto was no less skittish than a cat of independence. Always dashing back to its safe place at the slightest hint of danger.
Even as he watched the girl, much younger than himself if her height were to be any sort of indicator, bravely disappear, he could not yet bring himself to move.
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