Burger

Original Unoriginal Isekai MMO World-swap Fantasy RP

You're filthy natives, brah. You only write the backstory for how things were for you while growing up in the fantasy world.

@Xaltwind

this is my penance for procrastinating my character concept for 24 hours and then choosing 3am as my perfect time to write

Original Unoriginal Isekai MMO World-swap Fantasy RP

Just dropping this so people don't step on my toes or to make sure i didn't goof.

WIP 2.0

Diane Croix

23 || Female || Human

Appearance

---

With an air of nobility, Diane has traits of an ancient lineage. Most of her features could aptly be described as sharp. Standing at 6'0", she stands above most humans. Her eyes have a noticeable orange hue to them, almost glowing in the dark. The black hair she possesses is roughly styled, messily hanging from long periods of neglect. Her right arm is covered with an almost otherworldly ink that has since seeped and dyed her skin. Usually, it's covered with a gauntlet.

Personality

---

Misanthropic to a fault, Diane isn't exactly the friendliest person to be around. Her words are often laced in a thick venom and distrust of others. Despite this, it isn't possible to describe her as malicious. A general disdain of injustice still forms her moral code, but is directed as anger at the powers that be rather than the uplifting and protection of others. At worst, she could be called uncaring.

This doesn't mean that she's unsociable, however. Diane merely doesn't trust others. A lack of intimacy forms the hallmarks of any relationship she's in. She's willing to use others in order to get her goal, but she is a woman of her word. She wouldn't stab anyone in the back. In the front, maybe.

A great thirst for power fills her. She wishes to be strong. Daydreams of revenge fill her mind, but she lacks the actual commitment to do anything about it. After all, facing an entire kingdom requires more than just desire. Instead, she chooses to live and become stronger.

History

---

The House of Croix was once one of the grandest families of the Western Kingdoms. Their influence in politics and economics was unrivaled by none but a handful of families. For a young Diane, her upbringing was that of proper nobility. Etiquette, economics, and other such ventures were what she learned from a young age. On the eve of her 10th birthday, the young noble's life was shattered. War began to encroach on their land.

Split between two kingdoms who had declared war against another, the house was split between two hard choices. Their political power and sway would prove to become their downfall as they had to choose which side to support. At first, they stayed impartial to the best of their ability. War had not yet touched their bountiful lands. But as the winners and losers were becoming apparent, the family did as they had to: support the soon-to-be victors to protect their standing.

But rather than the status quo being kept, the victors launched into a new campaign. This wasn't one of war, but a declaration of betrayal. The House of Croix was declared a traitor to the kingdom. Greedy opportunists, they called them. The kingdom launched into an offensive to take their gains, storming the largely unravaged lands of the Croix. Not a single one of the Croix' allies helped. As their crops were burned, family and servants executed, Diane managed to escape. With the aid of her late butler and wet nurse, she fled the lands.

The rough, fruitless forests of the western lands were no place for a child. She did anything she could to survive in the wilds. As her hunger came, she began to eat bark, leaf, and any scrap left behind by the predators. After a month, the weakened Diane collapsed. A figure came into her view. It didn't speak; not that she could understand, anyways. Despite this, she knew what the figure was trying to say.

"Take my hand, child."

And she did.

Immediately, a black poison coursed along her skin. The pain was unbearable. Staining it a deep black, it was torn asunder and rebuilt. Her eyes were no different. The blight spread to her eyes, reforming them into a more suitable tool of her newfound patron.

Her agony cut short as the poison receded, leaving behind her stained arm and changed eyes.

By the time she had awoken, an inkling of what she had done. She formed a contract with a powerful being. As if she had known the entire time, she understood what it had given her. Her newfound abilities, while foreign and unrefined, were understood.

Under the watchful eye of her benefactor, she carried on east. Diane, despite her young age, slowly but surely survived. She scavenged the sites of battles for scraps. Anything to sell so that she could eat. Then, with the power bestowed upon her, she began to explore. Adventuring was a dangerous profession, but one that could give great reward. And she was good at it.

Years passed. The young noble, foolish and ignorant about the world was gone. In her place was a cold summoner with a thirst for power.

Summoner || 20

Stats

---

STR: F
VIT: E
DEX: E
INT: C
WIS: C
CHA: B

Immunities

---

N/A.

Resistances

---

Mild resistance to dark magics and a high resistance to blight.

Weaknesses

---

Holy, light, and the inverse elements of her current summon.

Equipment

---

Besides the gauntlet on her hand to hide and protect others from blighting, she has various tools to assist her. A mage's lantern, a knife, padded clothes, but generally everything you could find in an adventurer's sack.

Skills & Spells

---

Like her class' namesake, Diane has the ability to summon beings to serve under her. Under her contracted patron Oberon, she is able to use dark and blighting magics while summoning an elemental fairy to attack for her. These fairies carry the protection of the Fae Queen and are ephemeral to all harm. However, they use Diane as a conduit to materialize, so in case she runs out of mana or gets knocked out, the fairy is sent back to their home. Because of the contract she holds and her own safety, she can only summon one at a time for her own safety. Having more than one out at a time would deal significant damage to herself.

The pact held with Oberon cost her two things: her arm and her eyes. If she were to break this pact, she would most likely lose her arm and vision entirely.

Her dark magic specializes in reducing the enemy's strength by various means while her blighting magic specializes in damage over time. While not necessarily a skill, because of her right arm being the catalyst for her magic, it is toxic to most. If she had any aptitude in a brawl, it would actually be a threat.

She has the capability of summoning different beings, but is currently unable to.

Original Unoriginal Isekai MMO World-swap Fantasy RP

Original Unoriginal Isekai MMO World-swap Fantasy RP

Yoooouuuuuuuuuuuu................!

@Xaltwind

is that a friendly you or a dangerous one

Original Unoriginal Isekai MMO World-swap Fantasy RP

Deepest Abyss (Conquer the World)

👀

Mahoukyo: A Tale of Three

---

An empty book, a needle, a cork, a glass of water, and a lock of her own hair. The objects had been carefully arranged over an empty chalk circle. Needle on the cork in the glass, empty book adjacent, and hair in the water. The shrouded figure drew deft shapes and lines. The complexity of the circle only increased as time went on. Despite the speed that the figure moved at, each stroke was calculated and skillful as if commanded by a millennia of experience. Once finished with the inner circle, incomprehensible symbols filled the outside. To most, they looked like irregular lines recklessly scrawled by a child. After the circle was filled, the woman rose from her hands and knees to marvel at her work.

"Good enough," her tired, raspy voice rang out to no one. She carelessly tossed the chalk away, it fading into smoke before vanishing from sight. The markings began to glow, almost humming with an otherworldly energy. The needle began to spin. First, it was slow as it rebounded from side to side looking for its target. Each bounce increased in frequency. Suddenly, it stopped. Was it the right direction? Before she could check, the blasted off from the cork it was resting on, flying through the air before impaling a copy of Isekai Princess Lovers: Can Love Bloom After You Are Reincarnated?

It wasn't really going to be that easy, huh? No matter how she wrote the circle, no matter how many rules she injected for the spell to function, it never quite pointed in the direction of one of her grimoires. It always pointed to something else. Though, flying off and impaling her shoujo manga was a new one. With a great sigh, Ruru rubbed out a small portion of the circle with her thumb. Like the chalk, the markings turned to smoke and faded away.

If she had one of her grimoires, she could easily chain her searches to find the others. Getting that first one was always the biggest problem. Who knew what sort of abhorrent fuckery was in the process because of those tomes? Someone could be trying to go all Báthory with the knowledge contained in one of them. No, blood transfusions like that were for insane billionaires and bug chasers. The secrets to her immortality were locked pretty tight in between all of the other inane trite, thankfully. Plus, the chances that someone could actually read what was held in those books were slim to none. There was even a good chance that some normie would have bought it at a yard sale and used it as a coffee table book.

Grabbing the cup of her hair (more of a mug, really) and doing her best not to gag at the sight of it, she entered her washroom, dumped it in the toilet, and flushed it down the drain. The modern times were definitely great; one could flush all of their problems away for someone else to deal with.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't spend the entirety of the the night shitposting and playing her video games. No, the overwhelming sense of responsibility (if you could call it that) she possessed forced her to continue her search. Maybe if she had the right materials, the could be improved. Condensed soul essence always made for a great source of energy. Maybe some shmuck in zero time would have one of her artifacts. Who knew? The only thing she knew was that she'd have to enter that bothersome place instead of watching fine 90's cinema.

But first, preparations. Equipping herself with a fanny pack full of her magic sticks and a thermos of hot water, she left her small apartment to raid a local convenience store for supplies.

Mostly instant coffee, which she ran out of.

But supplies nonetheless.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Operation: Ground the Harpy

First impressions were always important. So far, her first impression of Chloe wasn't good. She was really living up to the name her parents gave her, unfortunately. The Russian was professional at least. Plus he could carry the pallet.

A whistle broke the silence of night. While unfamiliar to Lilliane, she was instantly reminded of the tales brought home after the great war. Without much of a second guess, she warned the others with her harsh tone. "Mortar," she simply said. Not that they really had to listen. As long as the Russian man holding the pallet—more importantly the pallet—was fine, then there would be no issue. The health of the others was second. Acceptable casualties, more or less.

Lilliane quickly dove towards a grassy knoll. She'd be fine, unless the mortar directly struck her. It didn't and instead landed behind them.

"That one's new," she uttered to herself. Really, it was unlike the Germans to use such a thing. Usually, they would just attack and beat the resistance's great war surplus and hunting equipment with their modern MP40s, 98ks, and vehicles. For them to use a mortar on the middle of a farm, that either meant things went wrong or things went really wrong.

"Don't scatter too far," she yelled just loud enough for all of the agents to hear. If the Nazis really were using mortars, they were probably using them as a form of crowd control. If they scattered far, then they could easily be picked off by whatever horde of gunmen came after them. Divide and conquer, or something like that.

My Hero Academia: Another Story

Sorry, but it's probably for the best for me to leave this RP. My motivation isn't coming back and I don't wish to hold anyone up anymore.

Winter's Blade: A Fairy Tail RP

---

Taking the sudden shake of the cart very well, the sickly Klaus sat dead still as a Ksavir launched through the air. Like some poorly written romance schlock, his hand had nested itself in a highly unprofessional place. Accidents happen. The sea dog knew that much. Though, if Eldrid had chosen to exact some form of retribution, he wouldn't really interfere. Such was sea law to let such small trifles (hey, it wasn't mutiny) be sort out by those involved.

After they resituated themselves, a new noise made itself apparent. Something below. Oh lord, it wasn't a giant worm, right? Worms were pretty gross. Not that Klaus couldn't stomach them, metaphorically or literally. Their ribbed bodies and weird movement were kind of creepy. He could't warn anyone else before a sudden feeling of weightlessness came over him. The carriage that protected them from the bog had began to spin, something theorized by most as "very bad".

For the first few flips, Klaus stuck inside the carriage, his rear practically glued to the seat. Around the fourth flip, his body was launched out of the carriage in the same position he had spent the entire trip in.

Dogs were not to meant to fly.

Klaus could swim and stay stable on any surface, but flying was out of his wheelhouse. Quickly turning to the advanced art of flailing, the wild dog spent his air time trying to land on his feet. Mud would soften the blow, but it was pretty much fetid shit. Probably had venereal disease in the muck too. But, by some miracle, he landed with enough grace to not get a face full of the toxic goo. His sleeve and pants took the brunt of the caustic mud. Thankfully, what did managed to splash onto his bare body had been rendered mostly null by the layers of fur that he possessed.

But now was not the time to ascertain the damage.

The MASSIVE wo—er, the reasonably sized (from his point of view) beast that caused all of the shit to unfold charged at Malon. It would require quick wit in order to get out of the bog unscathed.

Or plain brute force.

"I got'em! Tuck'n roll, Melon!" He bellowed at the marshrunner.

Without much hesitation, Klaus drew his cutlass in one hand and pointed at Malon with the other. In an instant, the tip of a ghostly brigantine formed around Malon. The ship—its cannons suspiciously missing—erupted from the pressure the mud exerted on it and launched the entire ship directly at the beast. Thank goodness this was a swamp that smelled like liquid ass, Klaus thought for the first and last time in his life. Had it been regular dirt, his boat would have simply been stuck in the ground.

Instead, multiple tons of boat had been turned into a projectile headed directly at the beast. Not the fastest attack, but a big ass boat on a collision course with one's skull was something that couldn't be ignored.