Blizz

Never Ending Days

@The Ghost Note Welcome to the nut house, population: knives

Tales from the Land of Fire | A Naruto AU Roleplay

@Renny O n i t

Tales from the Land of Fire | A Naruto AU Roleplay

@Renny

Mizo dropped instantly behind Hoseki, firmly planted on the ground. ”On it.” She very quickly busted out two hand signs, horse followed by dragon, this resulted in the ground liquifying and rising up, it molded itself into a shape that took on the colors of Mizo. It was a mud clone. The idea was to keep Mizo’s absence from being detected. The voiceless clone stood side by side with Hoseki as the real Mizo focused on another set of hand signs. ”Watch your step-“

Ox-Boar-Dog-Dragon-Serpent-Ram-Dog

Earth Style : Antlion’s Hole Jutsu!

Mizo pressed her fist into the dirt as it caved in, a small sinkhole formed deep enough to cover Mizo’s head. She gracefully fell in as the surface of the hole filled itself up. ”I’ll know if they come by here with the flag. If they slip past you, drive them towards me... With that, the real Mizo was gone from sight. Clone Mizo cracked her knuckles, and prepared a battle stance. It was common knowledge on team 9 that Mizo’s clones had no voice, but they could fight with as much skill and power as the real deal while the real deal was focusing her chakra and pouring it into the earth to detect anyone on team 5, if the soft dirt was shaken, the vibrations would reverberate into the earthen chamber Mizo was hiding in. Presumably, while Kana and Hoseki knew what Mizo was planning, only Daichi was theoretically capable of detecting this trap, and the thick, rigid chakra surrounding it.

_{”The trap is ready.”}

Never Ending Days

@ayzrules

Gucci

Never Ending Days

_{”Stay in school, and think about your future.”}

<sub>-The school feels a lot larger than it looks, there are hallways with empty classrooms as far as one could see. Tiles on the floor out of place, the rooms were cold due to lack of a working thermostat.

-No one comes back from detention. No one sees the kids who are supposedly on their way.

-There’s never been an actual emergency drill. Not for fire, not for an earthquake, not a lockdown.

-For some reason, nobody ever thinks about looking out the window

-How long have we been here?

-Teachers never answer their phones, the main office door is always locked.

-Sometimes kids never come back from the bathroom

-Nobody knows the people in the office. Not even their names.</sub>

---

A few days ago, you found a handwritten note from someone you don’t know. This is that note. When reading this, it sounds like nonsense, and the page is crumbled up, like someone tried to hide it. The more you think about it, the more self-aware you feel. Like every day up until this moment has blurred together. You’ve always felt unsafe, but you’ve never actually considered if that was just another thing at school, or something more sinister. Since then you’ve been thinking about a way to skip school. You can’t do it alone, you need help. You have your own gifts and talents, everyone does, but you’re not special. Besides, won’t you want to hang out with your friends when you skip school?

You’ll just have to meet up with them at lunch and talk about it.

---

The idea of this rp is that you’re a high school student hoping to plot an escape from your strange school. It’s like a prison, you and your group of friends are going to conspire against the enigmatic staff of your school and find a way out. We will all be different, and I plan to have us model our characters based off of fantasy archetypes, a thief who can steal from teachers. A fighter who knows how to box from watching MMA videos, a warlock who dives into the lesser known sides of YouTube from their phone. The end goal of the students is, of course, to escape into town. Maybe you will all hang out at the park, or stop by the gas station and pick up some snacks, and meander around the neighborhoods a little. Whether the story ends there, or just begins, will be decided when that time comes.

This is absolutely inspired by the concept of “DnD characters as high schoolers” and while this does sound like a meme, I found it to be an interesting concept. There will be other entities inspired by monsters, fantasy and horror, or both, but a lot of this will spur from how you and your fellow players choose to handle things.

This will be ran one of two ways.

1) I will play as a character which I will make after everyone else has chosen an archetype, character concept, and has had their characters approved. When I make mine, everyone else will determine if my character fits in with the rest, it is only fair if I make a character in a setting driven by others.

2) I will not play any character at all. I will be an outside force that simply plays out encounters. My role among you all will be the effect to your cause.

If you are interested, let me know which of the two methods you would prefer, and if you have suggestions, I am all ears. I will update this to include a CS if it gets popular.

The Drifter told me Hive guts are flammable.

I will provide an example character, if desired.

Name : Yes

Appearance : Do what you want for this one as long as it works, images, anime or otherwise, or descriptions.

Background information : Does your character have a particular major they want to study? Do they have a bad homelife? Maybe a reputation among the students? This is to really get an idea of who your character is, beyond their skills.

Age : 17-18

Personality : We’re basically kids just remember that

Archetype : This is what defines a lot of your character, only one for everyone, if multiple people pick the same archetype I’ll pick the best. Archetypes are basically the DnD classes. Monk, fighter, artificer, that sort of thing.

Describe how this affects who your character is. Describe what it means for them as a person and their role in this breakout we are to execute. This is the backbone of your character. What does it let them do? Why are they this archetype?

And yes, you can multi class but make it work.

Skills : at least one, you can have as many as you want but they gotta make sense for your character. Don’t make a mage type of character a master of fist fighting, for example.

Possessions : Again, base this on your archetype. If you’re a rogue character you probably have some stolen stuff or a pocket knife. A cleric/healer probably had a lot of snacks. Remember that this school is going to be a pseudo-surrealistic nightmare but also remember we only just now waking up to this.

Other : This can be quite literally anything that doesn’t fit in the other sections.

Archetypes

As I said, these are essentially the classes from DnD fitted a little for a school truancy parade. Below are a few examples of the archetypes in the context of Never Ending Days.

If you want to expand on this yourself, feel free. I like leaving all of the rps I run open on purpose so I’m not the only one defining what the universe is.

Fighter : A martial arts hobbyist, often geeks out about melee weapons and talks about how they could whoop a school shooter in a lockdown scenario with a broom pole. Is likely the only person in the school who can back up that claim, and no doubt knows a thing or two about the traditions of certain weapons.

Wizard : Reads a lot of books, has a lot of uncommon knowledge about things, freakishly good at math and things that require more acute minds. Probably is the brains of an operation like this, and has a plan in mind for anything. Their mind is their weapon in a fight.

Rogue : The kid who spends a lot of time out in the wild frontiers of high school, the halls during class. The stereotypical hoodlum who almost definitely has a knife. They know how to sneak around unseen, and steal stuff right out of someone’s pocket.

Bard : SoundCloud rapper who’s actually pretty good and rapping. Has at least two sets of AirPods and can be a bit annoying in the same way a kid who thinks he’s a professional gamer because he has a half decent KD on Fortnite is annoying. But they’re actually pretty cool to hang out with when they’re not acting like a bard.

Monk : The more upstanding kid in class who tries to follow the rules, but still busts out a move when the troublemakers get bold. Is possibly the only one who can keep up with the fighter’s conversations about combat or weapons, if anyone.

Paladin : The kid who’s the most likely to go on a missionary trip in another country, or join the military. Probably has a stick up their ass in one way or another. Only sometimes understands what the fighter is on about, and tries to debunk it with US Army lingo or whatever self righteous paladins do when they’re trying to prove someone wrong

Artificer : the closest thing to an engineer. Probably has a drone and several phone chargers in their backpack. Knows how to turn a 9 volt battery from a big flashlight into a weapon for fighting. Also probably has at least three pencil guns - the kind you make with a mechanical pencil.

Like I said these are just off the top of my head, you might have an alchemist concept up your sleeve, and that would be really interesting. This is flexible, be water, make characters. Skip school.

The Sisters of the Dying Branch

_@Hitman

It was vibe-town central on the porch until that rope-cat came and lunges at Corvus. Iris almost didn’t notice at all, but by the time she refisteted the fact that Corvus was on the ground, a girl had showed up to claim the creature. ”...Well, hi.” Corvus stood up on the ground, little more than a scratch or two on his body. Thankfully, the tiny glowing blue vial wasn’t touched at all. If that broke, Corvus would be nothing but a mess of twigs and grass. ”He’s fine- She picked him up and rested him on her shoulder again.-They’re tougher than that.” Golems could take virtually any kind of beating as long as they had magic in them.

”I didn’t know your...ferret? Like magic things. He’s cute.” Iris wasn’t actually sure if that was a ferret or some other noodle shaped mammal. Could’ve been a weasel for all she knew. Corvus’ little blue heart glowed like fireflies in the setting sun. It was only the size of the tip of Iris’ thumb, but it was shining like a tiny lamp. The magic energy wouldn’t fade for a while. She wasn’t even sure if Corvus would be allowed at the wellspring or not, she also wasn’t sure how he got in her shirt. Oh well.

Fallout: Land of the Sky

@Apollosarcher

1) I’ll fix those

2) He doesn’t have a defined motive like a soldier. These days, he prefers to just see the way the world is growing from when things went to hell back then, but his heart bleeds neon green for the people. He’s tired of seeing conflict, and he’ll put up with the soldiers no doubt. If these super mutants hurt people, which it’s safe to say they will since they’re super mutants, he’s be more than happy to help them as much as possible. He’s not actively seeking out people who are suffering, like the Followers of The Apocalypse would, but he still tries. Getting rid of the mutants would make things peaceful, so Sirus respects their ideas. Overall he’s more of a supportive kind of character than a fighter.

Tales from the Land of Fire | A Naruto AU Roleplay

I posted and included some background for Mizo’s plan. Mizo does this pretty often since she’s not the badass iron fist sage yet. She likes to keep a variety of options since she’s not the best suited for situations that get shaken up in an instant. Her weakness is that she’s the least flexible on the team, and makes up for that by being able to make everything else bend instead.

Of course when she’s older she’ll be better at it.

Tales from the Land of Fire | A Naruto AU Roleplay

In an instant, Mizo dipped into the field, running like she was on a mission. ”I got a plan, there’s a new Jutsu I’m working on that I haven’t told you guys about yet. It’s a trap. If I keep our flag, I can hide it along with myself while they look for it. At that point I can spring out from the ground and grab their flag, or not let them get any clue about ours.” She told Kana and Hoseki while the three of them were on their way in. Mizo’s pack was full of ninja tools. Smoke bombs, paper bombs, wire, that sort of thing. She had a lot of room for planning with the other two.

She never did ask if their squad leaders were gonna join them. Not that it mattered, best case scenario was her teammates figured her plan out with Daichi’s byakugan. Worst is Daichi somehow got in the way. Not that he would, after all, he’s a Hyuga and knew that Mizo could come up with some good tactics. Most, if not all of her strategies revolved around the earth. Mizo just happened to be running into a large, spacious field of shaded, soft ground to play with. She could just feel the jutsu she was working on would be perfect for this scenario, and maybe she could win the battles in the chunin exams without a single punch. That would be something.

”Kana, this jutsu I’m talking about would be ruined if you zap the ground, so be careful. Our chakras would cancel out.” She told Kana. He was a pretty observant ninja, so it probably went without saying that he could disrupt her jutsu, but then again, Mizo knew he was a medical ninja, so it was safe to assume in her head that he’d hang back. ”Hoseki, I think if you go full force like usual they’ll be too busy worrying about your attack to notice me preform the trap. Of course, if anyone’s got a better idea for handling those swords Kimiko has, I’m listening. Hoseki’s fire would just be blown back by her wind style.” Not that such a thing would stop, or even matter to Hoseki. His hot-hot headed nature would nearly compel the guy to just charge at them all. Mizo was pretty confident in her ability to come up with a plan, especially with a team that could execute it like this, but at this point in her life, full blown head to head combat like Hoseki’s was in the passenger seat. Such a thing was why she made the Antlion Hole Jutsu, at least until she could fill the gap with even stronger fists. Sure, she was good at throwing punches, but the problem was that she needed the circumstances to be on her side, an even playing field would be the most she could handle without a plan in mind beforehand.

Fallout: Land of the Sky

The Bright Pacifist

Sirus

_{{ ”You...haven’t the faintest clue...the things I have watched burn. I have seen the brightest cities turn to dust on the darkest nights. All the hate in this world is only keeping us in the dark." }}

- General Characteristics -

| {Full Name} |

Willson Linus Banks

| { Nicknames } |

Sirus

| { Age } |

227

| {Male} |

| {Character Image} |

A long time ago, one of the nicest children he’s ever met made a drawing of him, it was child-like, but it was one of the nicest things he experienced in a while...

| {Color} |

00ff00

| {Appearance} |

To call him an acquired taste would be...putting it lightly. Sirus is beyond scrawny, he looks like a tooth pick. Standing at exactly six feet tall, Sirus weighs roughly 110lb but he isn’t malnourished or anything like that. It’s just the radiation that turned him into a ghoul two hundred years ago. He may look like nothing but skin and bones, but everything you see is muscle, he’s still strong enough to hoist a heavy radstag over his shoulder. He just doesn’t look like it. Speaking of his skin, it’s an enigma. It’s hard to tell if his skin is rotting, glowing green, both, or burnt. If you ran your hands across his arm, you’d almost feel leather. Like paper that just won’t tear, it’s strange to say the least, but the strangest part is the fact that he’s glowing green. The softer parts of his body - his stomach, between his ribs, his eyes, his mouth - radiation a rich, neon green glow that lights up a pitch black room with ease. Sirus typically wears clothes to protect others from himself. Heavy clothes with pieces of lead in them. Lead lined gloves and shoes, that sort of thing. It covers up most of his body, especially when he throws on his Yao Guai hide

---

- Psychological Profile -

| {Personality} |

These days, Sirus. is a pacifist at heart. The past two centuries were filled with little more than hate, death, and pain. Sirus. through it all, and he wants absolutely nothing more to do with that. Sirus has no hate inside him for anyone. Not raiders, who do what they must to survive. Not Super Mutants, who lost control of themselves. Not for slavers, who have simply forgotten what it means to be free themselves. Sirus is a kind man, he has seen the worst in people, and it made it look for the worst in himself. He’s talked with few people in the last 200 years, but the ones who knew him will tell you that aside from the slight radiation, he cooks up a mean slab of radstag.

He is peaceful, he is welcoming, and often spends his nights pondering the world before the bombs. Thinking back on the old days, and the ones after. He’s been through a lot, more than anyone alive today can know. Sirus is a loyal friend. Though he may never get into a physical fight with anybody, he’s sure to be there for you no matter what. After all, it’s not like he’s running out of days any time soon. Sirus doesn’t interact with society much, if at all. At most, he watches travelers get scared by him, or try to shoot him. Thankfully, he hasn’t been shot anywhere vital, but that’s fine. Regardless, he knows that not everyone does, or even can look at things the way he does. Not everyone can just walk away from two centuries of sorrow and come out functioning. If anything, he’s the lucky one for making it this long as a glowing ghoul, so he of all people has no right to complain. Despite that, he welcomes people when they’re willing to be peaceful. He is the type to make peace before the guns ever come out. No one ever walks away intact from a fight.

| {Fears/Limitations} |
Few things these days actually get under Sirus’ skin, not that he has much to get under, but he point is he’s very patient. Some scavenger doing through, looking for scrap parts puts a gun to his head because he’s never seen a glowing ghoul before? Seen it. Want some duct tape? A rabid dog is chewing up a carcass and it thinks Sirus is gonna steal it? Seen it. Just back away, take the scenic route. The problem for Sirus is his body. Being 200 years old, he doesn’t have much mass on him. He won’t be able to handle a fist fight with a super mutant, but he is still capable of throwing a big radstag over his shoulder and carrying it. Living on your own keeps you in shape.

The other big thing about his appearance is, well, his appearance. Being bald and a walking lightbulb doesn’t put the best first impression in one’s mind. His mellow and friendly nature only comes into play when people take a second to look past the fact that he is glowing green and that you can see his ribcage like an x-ray.

What are they afraid of most? Where do they fall short? Many times it is here that most of what makes a character is found, in the flaws and imperfections.

| {Place of Origin} |

Prewar America. Sirus has wandered a lot since the bombs fell. He doesn’t much from those days, especially not about his home life.

| {Background} |
Long ago, when the bombs first fell, a man named Willson was doing his damndest to outrun fate. Doing everything he could to run like hell, hoping to whatever god was listening that his car wouldn’t break down from the sheer speed he was going, he couldn’t even remember which road he went down. He still doesn’t. All he remembers is trying to outrun death.

In the end, he did.

Everything went black, days passed, blinding flashes, screams, bodies, all of it blurred together like a dream. He woke up feeling like every bone in his body had been broken, but he was still standing. Everything was a blur, he still can’t remember everything. He doesn’t know if it’s because he might have hit his head, or if it was the radiation, either way, Willson was alive, or at least...he felt like it. He woke up not knowing where on earth he was, nothing looked the same. Everything was flat. Everything was dead. Why wasn’t he?

Willson spent what felt like months just wandering. Aimless. Mindless even. Who knew how long it would be until he saw some semblance of humanity left? The roads were shattered, his hands were emaciated and burned under the sun, nothing felt real. Nothing felt right. He hadn’t seen another person in what felt like a lifetime, the sky was dark, it was grey. Black clouds swirling with brown dust, it was cold. Nuclear winter. Nothing changed for months, nothing but the weather. Snow and tar covered the bodies, the roads, everything. The land was barren, all Wilson could do was watch as everything suffered with him. His body felt like it was atrophied, like he was sick and dying. He never once thought about the radiation. He couldn’t feel it. That was the last few months of 2077.

It wouldn’t be until 2083 that things started to feel normal. The smallest civilizations were whispered about only 6 years later. Of course, there was no such thing, since it was still so cold, and for this poor bastard, lonely. He had met a solid two people in six years. Both of them were terribly messed up. No hair, no skin, ragged voices...and he reminded them of themselves. He resembled them, he had trouble speaking, he hadn’t in so long, but he managed. They were shocked at his appearances his skin was black and glowing green.

He was a glowing one.

Many years later, in 2097, the cold began to disappear, and these are the memories that Sirus had that are the clearest. Wilson was living with the few people he could find, in a small clearing, in the remains of the Ohio countryside. They called it Haven. It was less than a mile of cobbled together huts, built up around a military checkpoint that had clean water. Most of the place was still dead from radiation, but the survivors knew Wilson was special, like his presence was some kind of gift, he could handle the radiation. The glow from his skin must’ve protected him. But it wasn’t all great, after all, no one would go near him. They were scared. The ominous glow was like a bomb about to go off to them. They just occasionally brought him scraps of food, which he didn’t look like he ever ate, since his ghoulish appearance betrayed him.

Despite living in this place, and having it easy compared to everyone else in the nuclear dark age, Wilson was broken inside. This wasn’t his body. This wasn’t his world. This wasn’t his home. Everything was wrong. These people had a basic amount of respect for the monster that helped them move radioactive waste from places, and would bring him table scraps. That’s not normal.

Days blurred together as he tried to make sense of everything, and he did. By not caring. Everything around Wilson was in ruin. Death. Hate. Anger. Violence. When Wilson left it all behind, he grew nihilistic, he didn’t care about getting rid of waste, he just left in the dead of night and let Haven rot. He was numb, he was cold. Broken. Even the name “Wilson” bothered him. He stayed like that for 60 years. The 2150s were the turning point of the ghoul named Sirus.

A group of survivors, in the ruins of New York, found Sirus living under a mound of collapsed walls, buildings turned to dust. They looked clean, they were inviting, they weren’t bothered by Sirus’ appearance, they simply welcomed him. They begged him to let them help. They didn’t want to watch a survivor live under rubble. Surely, they were joking. On the road he shambled down, he watched the world suffer. If these idiots were so kind, why didn’t they help everyone else?

That was his first mistake, to think the world could be helped. They took Sirus to a nearby town, it was beautiful. It was the closest thing to an actual town he had seen in almost a century. They called it Neptune. Neptune was thriving, and peaceful. Everyone was put off by the ghoul’s appearance, but they knew the darkness he was stuck in wasn’t violence, but numbness. A hole in his heart. Everyone ran on sight before, they dropped their guns and ran, he didn’t even have to tell them to fuck off. Sirus spent roughly 90 years full of confusion, contempt for others, and loneliness, until now. These people welcomed him, they taught him about ghouls like him, they told him they saw glowing ghouls, but they were what they called “Feral.” It dawned on Sirus that he was lucky, he could’ve been killed like a dog by now. Of course, that would’ve been preferable. Their kindness did things to Sirus, in fact, it hurt. It hurt to be treated like a human, like he knew what he was, like anyone knew what he was. Neptune was his home. Neptune brought something deep inside him back from nothingness, his humanity.

Sirus still wasn’t the person he is today, he was angry with the world. He spent the next 10 years warding off things from outside of Neptune’s walls, rural New York was a nightmare. Raiders were violent, and it took a toll on Sirus’ already damaged personality. The raiders and other monstrous people had tried for years to tear it up. Every time they would fail, it proved that there was hope, but it only pissed Sirus off. Nothing stopped him from going out there and just pulling his shirt off to microwave every fucking one of them, other than two people. Caten and Aster. His two closest friends. Caten was a tough girl, always had a shotgun at her hip. She had a benevolent boss attitude about her, but she was lovable. Aster was a survivor, just like Sirus, and a follower of the religion of Atom. A one armed, religious lancer with a machete, Aster was the type who you could go to for deep, mentally intimate advice.

“They ain’t worth it, Si. I’ll just blow ‘em away.” Caten always assured him that she’d have his back.

“Yes, trust me, Neptune’s walls have seen worse.” The one armed faithkeeper backed her words up every time between sharping his machete.

Those words still echo in his head. If Neptune’s walls were so strong, why was it so easy for the entire town to be burned to ash?

It was late, Caten was already in bed. Aster was praying before bed, like usual. Explosions rang out, waking everybody up.

Nothing was left before the hour was done. Sirus is the only one alive who remembers the story that happened next. He keeps the last words of his friends on a holotape, he has kept that same holotape for 130 years. Cherishing it, because it’s all he has left of the place that gave him back his humanity. After the incidents following, he wandered again for who knows how long. That’s all there is to this guy. He’s seen too much pain and suffering to hate anyone. He has never harmed a soul since Neptune was destroyed. And he swears on the graves of his best friends that he never will. This time, he wouldn’t kill his mind, he wouldn’t shove his thoughts into a corner. This time, he’s make peace with them. Sirus made peace with himself since then, he will never forget his past, he will never forget the way the world changed him, but he would never fall victim to rage. Rage is what caused everything. He would help everyone he can, he would never be angry with anyone. Wilson Banks was gone, now, there was only him.

There was only Sirus.

Now, he wanders the world, not full of sadness, but full of identity. He spent the next 130 years being a piece of the world, rather than trying to dissociate from it. This was peace.

---

- Survival Characteristics -

| {Non-Combat Skills} |

Who’s Hungry? : If it can be eaten, Sirus can cook it. He knows a few interesting recipes for making things taste right. Have you ever noticed that chewy, tar like take in radroach? You will when you start eating with Sirus, since he gets rid of it.

Hunter : Sirus knows how to hunt pretty well, he’s learned to cover the glowing parts of his body and kill animals quickly. He tries his best not to leave them in pain, and make it fast.

Ugly Diplomat : His peaceful and pacifist nature has pushed him to talk things through with people. Think of it like making a really intimidating character with 80+ speech. Granted, it’s hard when you’re glowing - literally, not figuratively, but when people are willing to listen to Sirus, he can talk things through in almost any situation.

Wanderer : Sirus is 200 years old. He’s been around the place. Sirus has been to various parts of the country. From the Capital Wasteland, to the Mojave. No place is his home.

| {Possessions} |

Anything not directly related to combat, work on their person regularly or considered essential gear.

| {Combat Skills} |

And here is where any skill your character may have that is either directly or indirectly related to combat would go.

| {Gear} |

47 caps in a stag skin pouch.
A combat knife, used for skinning animals and butchering meat. It has a weathered engraving at its base that almost resembles a BoS emblem.
A star sarsaparilla cap dangling from his neck.
A holotape with several prewar songs.
<sub>Sleep Dealer - The Tenth Planet

Foxhole - Through Bone and Marrow

Tango With Lions - In a Bar

Euphoria - Silence In Everywhere

Lake of Tears - A Crimson Cosmos

Lake of Tears - The Homecoming

Explosions In The Sky - Magic Hours</sub>
A holotape with other things on it, don’t play it.
Old paper with words on it that only Sirus has read.
A hunting rifle, .308 caliber. No scope, no muzzle breaks, just a bare bones, plain Jane rifle he uses strictly for hunting animals. It is not a weapon. It is a tool.
6 .308 caliber bullets.