DJAtomika

The Stand - A Fantasy PvE

Also please refrain from posting ooc chatter in the characters tab. Our GM is using that space for a reason and he doesn't need it cluttered by chat that belongs in this tab.

The Stand - A Fantasy PvE

Thank you. It's easier to read your posts that way, instead of everything being scrunched together.

The Stand - A Fantasy PvE

Ye gods man, spaces after each comma.

The Stand - A Fantasy PvE

"Psh. Heroes? Please, nothin' but a bunch a scamps s' what I see."

Having been unceremoniously plonked here by another wayward multiverse portal, Johnny was now subject to something akin to a test. Weird, green-skinned humanoid creatures were now roaring and charging into the little altar temple thing he and the other "scamps" where in, armed to the teeth even though they didn't look particularly dangerous.

Before the thing had even begun, he'd looked around, hands in pockets, and had quickly determined that all these chumps were loose change. A ragtag bunch of misfits seeking glory. He, on the other hand, was looking for a way out.

He was on the left side, and as such the five orcs that came charging in had swords clamped in their knobbly, grubby mitts. With a sigh, Johnny straightened his hat with a hand and loosed his shoulders, giving them a roll.

"Right fellas, watch 'n learn."

The lead orc came charging up to him and attempted to chop him in half horizontally, a swing that he ducked under easily, pivoting on his left foot as his right shot up, driving itself into the orc's gut as he turned his back on him. The air bubble he'd built on his sole detonated and sent the paleskin spiralling backwards into its brethren even as victim number two ran up to him, its sword hurtling downward at his head. Johnny kept on spinning on his left, standing up straight as he leaned backward, bringing up his right knee into the orc's chest, crumpling its ribs with his strength and flipping it over onto its back. As it struggled to get up, he extended his right leg, lifting it vertical in the air before bringing it down in a swift axe kick, detonating an air bubble as his heel struck the orc's torso. The resultant shockwave caved its chest inward and knocked it into the stones, creating a small crater where he'd kicked.

As he recovered, the two remaining orcs had scrambled to their feet and were busy charging him from a distance away. Without waiting, he swung his right leg, pivoting on his left as he shot a snap kick at the orc on his left, then a reverse horizontal kick at the orc on his right.

With his first kick, a vertical blade of air shot from his foot, rocketing at speed towards the first orc. A horizontal blade followed right after his second kick, shooting straight for orc number two. The blades impacted their targets and detonated, one after the other, with the resultant force of a semi truck impact, flinging the paleskins backward and into the land of the dead.

Johnny lowered his foot and straightened his hat with his free hand.

"Was that supposed to be a challenge?" He said to no one in particular. Then he lowered his hat and walked back to the center altar, rolling his shoulders gently and grumbling softly to himself.

"I've been in worse bar fights, fer cryin' out loud."

[Ranked] 2 v 2 battle! Reapers Vs Champions; A Dance of Blades!

I reiterate: *clunk clunk clunk clunk*

[Ranked] 2 v 2 battle! Reapers Vs Champions; A Dance of Blades!

Not that a near 8 foot giant in full plate armor could hide from over nine pairs of eyes.

@GreivousKhan

And judging from IN's latest post, you're not wrong. XD

The Stand - A Fantasy PvE

Because you had to leave, not fair and square. DX

Arena Chat Thread

Oh look who's here.

Hey Skall, your opinions on the questions posed above? Unless IN, me 'n Vordakhave covered everything.

DJ's Character Compendium

мор - Mor

"I heal the wounded, shoot the healthy. You are sick, find me. You want to die, also find me. I will fix you."

Vitals

Name: Nataliya Petrovich

Title: Reaper of Pestilence

Age: 43

Sex: Female

Date of birth: June 24, 1956

Lineage: -

Class/Major: Medic

Class/Minor: Marksman

Occupation: Field medic

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Marital Status: Single

Birthplace: Moscow, Russia

Blood Type: AB+

Eye Color: Wholly white, from sclera to iris to pupil.

Height: 6'

Weight: 176 lbs

Hair Color/Style: Snow white hair, long enough to reach her waist but tied in a neat and tidy bun, held with two straight hair pins.

General Appearance: C size chest. Combat gear is a set of grey ballistic plate with a red cross on the shoulder pauldrons. Right arm bracer contains syringes and injector for drugs, along with extendable bone saw. When not in combat gear, normally wears a white fur-lined winter coat with fur collar, grey scarf, black gloves, white jeans and either shoes or heels.

Skin Tone/Condition: Pale, warm but dry.

Markings: Red cross on left upper arm. Tiny black cross tattoo underneath both eyes.

Combat Stats

Dominant Hand: Left

Equipment:

-Upper Body:

• Потеря Небес (Poterya Nebes) - Heaven's Loss. The upper half of a set of daemon possessed medical armour, Poterya Nebes is Nataliya's main source of protection. The pain daemon within the armour absorbs most damage sustained and converts it into healing and shielding. The absorbed damage can also be kept as is and then distilled into syringes that are created by the armour for use in the syringe gun on the left bracer. These pain syringes contain a single dose of pure pain, and when injected into a subject, cause five seconds of intolerable agony.
  
  The right bracer contains a vital signs scanner and an extendable bonesaw.
  
  The armour also has a set of foldable wings in its back. These wings are in the shape of an angel's wings, and are six feet long from wingtip to wingtip, meaning that each wing is three feet long. The wings are jet-powered, and are capable of sustained short-distance flight or hovering for a long duration.

-Lower Body:

• Потеря Небес (Poterya Nebes) - Heaven's Loss. The lower half of a set of daemon possessed medical armour, Poterya Nebes is Nataliya's main source of protection. See above for the armour's effects. The lower half of the armour does not contain many special effects. The heels of her boots contain sharp stilettos that she can activate with a click of her heels, and nothing else.

Weapons

• Ангелос (Angelos) - A SIG Sauer P226 9mm pistol with an angel in it, Angelos is one of Nataliya's primary weapons, alongside Lyutsifer. The bolts of light that he fires blind and disintegrate most fleshy, disposable targets.
• Люцифер (Lyutsifer) - A H&K USP Match .45 pistol with the Prince of Lies himself within it, Lyutsifer is the other half of Nataliya's primary weapon duo. The bolts of darkness he fires distort and destroy most fleshy, disposable targets.
• Поцелуй Ада (Potseluy Ada) - Meaning "Hell's Kiss", this SVD sniper rifle contains a fallen angel, whose powers of life and death have turned the once innocuous sniper rifle into a man-portable medigun, dispensing bursts of healing and energy into allies and destroying her enemies with extreme prejudice.

Abilities

• Enhanced Reflexes, Speed and Endurance
• Gun Warrior - By virtue of having almost no melee whatsoever, Nataliya instead prides herself on integrating her pistols into her melee routine, utilising a style similar to Wing Chun or Bojutsu in addition to bullets, often wielding her pistols as clubs in extreme close combat.

Magic

• Liquid Flesh - Being made entirely of disease and pathogens bestows this benefit upon Nataliya, as her body can be completely liquid and fluid to the touch. Basic, unpowered melee attacks and projectile attacks do not harm her in any way. The only way to truly harm her is to use magic or magic-empowered melee or projectile attacks to break past this magical barrier.
• Plague Carrier - And of course, since she's made of disease, it means she is also very dangerous up close. A single touch from a finger infects a target with so many deadly toxins and pathogens that death is often confirmed, if not instantaneous.
• Poison Queen - Nataliya, using her poison magics, can create pools or fields of poison and death around her. These fields are subject to her will, and can stay grounded, or float in the air as a fine mist.
• Unkillable - Just like the other Reapers, Nataliya cannot be killed. Instead, upon sustaining enough damage to be fatal, she is disabled, akin to being actually killed. She regrows herself through microorganisms, albeit slowly enough to not be considered an active combat ability.

Bio

Voice: Ghostly, husky, light Russian accent. Eloquent in diction.

Personality: Cool, collected and calm, as a medic should be. She displays an air of professionalism, sense of duty and, at the same time, compassion and pride in her work. She is a little more aloof than her other companions, but isn't a total ice queen.

Backstory: Nataliya was born in a turbulent Earth, one where the Cold War was less cold and more hot. Technology advanced faster here too, though not to the extent of her teammate, Itsuki.

Upon reaching her teens Nataliya was immediately drafted into the Russian Resistance Force, a militia force aimed to combat the advances of a Fascist Germany into Russia. In this Earth, Germany never stopped being Fascist even after the second World War, and that only opened up more eras of aggression in the new age. She quickly grew accustomed to the horrors of war, but felt that she'd do better on the sidelines instead of on the front.

Thus she took her chances to become a combat medic. She trained herself to treat battlefield casualties, often being the first one to drag her wounded companions out of the battlefield and towards a surgical station. Through the mud, sweat and blood, Nataliya persevered and eventually a commander recognised her work and gave her the promotion to an actual medical post as a battlefield hospital nurse. Obviously this still meant she was stationed near the front line, but now her main focus was saving the lives of those sent to her, which she took to with gusto.

The decades wore by and the war on the European front never seemed to end, just one side or the other making a half-assed effort to push into the territory of the other, failing and retreating back into a stalemate that had been there ever since the end of WWII. In that time, Nataliya honed her skills; when not actively treating casualties, she was now on the front causing them, having taken up marksmanship as a secondary course of training to supplement her battlefield medicine skills, mostly to back her up in case her emplacement fell and they had to retreat. She was also one of the first few waves of medical personnel to receive a new, futuristic piece of equipment: the Medical Armour suit, which came integrated with various devices to scan for life signs, administer drugs, apply dressings and sew up open wounds with ease, while granting the medics who wore them the ease of mind to run around in a battlefield without sustaining life-threatening injury from how bulletproof the armour was.

However, Nataliya was only human, and through the decades she spent treating casualties, she herself received wounds in battle that were treated by others. And though the medicines and drugs of the time were sufficiently advanced, nothing could stop the advances of disease and malnutrition on the worn Russian front.

One day, while rescuing a squad trapped on a front in Stalingrad, Nataliya was shot by a sniper. Her armour absorbed most of the force of the hit, but the bullet still managed to penetrate her flesh, embedding itself in her liver.

Reeling and wounded, she could only watch as the enemy stormed by her, dismantling the squad she was sent to save and crushing the Russian advance.

No one ever came to save her, and eventually, days after her injury, she succumbed to the infections that followed and died a miserable, painful death.

That was, of course, until the Darkness found her. Her death was one of ill luck and misfortune, helped along by disease and infection, and so the Darkness decided to resurrect her into unlife, powering her body with the very microorganisms that destroyed her.

And so Nataliya rose from the dead, born again into unlife as a being of pestilence and disease, her weapons imbued with both light and darkness, the last of the mythical Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Her resurrection was met by the three individuals she would later consider as her team and family.

The Reapers.

Others

Daemons

Ангелос - Angelos

A special type, Angelos is not a daemon at all. Instead, he is a fallen angel, and, like Akuma, Tac and Renny, is considered the leader of the four beings in Nataliya's possession. Upright, noble and courageous, Angelos stands in stark contrast to the daemon that inhabits Nataliya's other pistol.

Angelos brings the powers of light and strength to the battlefield. He emits a constant aura of strength and endurance that affects those around him in a ten foot circle area of effect.

As a weapon, he shoots bolts of light that have a slight homing capability; if not aimed directly at a foe, his bolts will curve slightly and readjust their trajectories to impact his target. Of course, this doesn't mean his bullets behave like guided missiles, the homing capability is light, and only work if fired either directly or slightly indirectly at a target. This ability does not work if fired in the complete opposite direction of her target, or at extreme angles.

Люцифер - Lyutsifer

A daemon of lies and deception, Lyutsifer, or Lucifer, is the Prince of Lies. How he became attached to Nataliya is unknown, perhaps he simply chose to, or maybe his eternal punishment by God was to be weaponised forever in an object, bound forever to his user. Whatever the case, Lucifer now works for Nataliya, and though he is mildly amused at how two fallen angels have also come to work for her, it doesn't stop him from being all that he is: a lie.

Lucifer brings darkness deception onto the battlefield as his main powerset. As a weapon, he shoots bolts of darkness that have a slight homing capability with the exact same limitations of Angelos, stated above.

By will, he is able to create visual clones of Nataliya or any of her teammates, be it Cho or Luis or Itsuki. These clones have their own will and act on their own, even sounding and behaving like them. However, they only exist to draw attention, and if damaged or injured, they immediately vanish. He is able to create up to ten of these clones, not including the original.

Also, he is able to directly affect the visuals of any fired projectile by simply making them vanish, or appear to have been fired from another direction, complete with the requisite sounds and sights. This power of misdirection serves to confuse and distract Nataliya's opponents, and is part of his skillset as a whole.

Небес - Nebes

Meaning 'loss', Nebes is a pain daemon, more specifically a succubus, that resides within Nataliya's armour. Not being directly within a weapon doesn't bother her, for her usefulness is still high. Nebes takes great pleasure and joy in absorbing pain and suffering, using the energy to fuel the armour as well as provide a variety of medicines or poisons for Nataliya to use.

Nebes, being a pain daemon, has pain as her main skillset. Half of it is in the area of absorbing and redirecting it, the other half being in the area of giving it back.

When Nebes absorbs a hit, she converts a portion of the damage and pain into energy that she stores within the armour. At any time, Nataliya can will Nebes to convert this energy into a variety of functions within her armour; fuel for her jet wings, or to be converted into medicine or poison for her syringe gun in her bracer.

And, at any given moment, Nataliya can will Nebes to redirect the pain energy into any of her weapons, making her next attack with that weapon extra powerful and extra painful. If a hit with a powered weapon connects, it will deliver a shock of pure agony that lasts for three seconds. Effects include body spasms, uncontrolled bleeding from orifices, extremely increased heart rate and contracture of the body.

Of course, this doesn't mean that Nataliya is invincible. Any attack that cannot be blocked by her armour is given as a standard attack, and if she isn't wearing her armour then the usual happens. Nebes can only absorb part of the shock and damage of a hit, not all of it, and any huge, powerful attack can overload Nebes' capacity or penetrate through the armour, nullifying her abilities.

Ада - Ada

Meaning 'kiss', Ada is a fallen angel, just like Angelos. She resides within Nataliya's SVD sniper rifle and is the one who delivers life and death unto...whoever she shoots.

Ada's powerset involves life and death in varying degrees. It all depends on who she is shooting.

When Ada is shot at an ally, her projectiles are life-giving cocktails of microorganisms that promote healing and regeneration of lost flesh, while also sending adrenaline and painkillers through her target's system. A kiss of life.

When Ada is shot at an enemy, her projectiles are instead bolts of pure poison that penetrate and spread disease and death. The diseases imparted by Ada can also spread to surrounding targets by way of merely physically touching the infected. A kiss of death.

Welcome to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]

The front door was wide open. One of the things hung on a hinge. All the glass was shattered.

No blood though, so that was good. Barely anyone around this time of night.

I gingerly stepped my way through the field of broken glass, feeling shards and things crack and tinkle under my feet. The other guys had boots, but me? I had a pair of old dress shoes instead. If I got cut it wouldn't matter though. I was already dead, what did I care my feet got a line or two in 'em?

Inside, the main reception area was trashed. Empty. Brochures and other things were scattered all over the place. Posters torn down from walls. Shattered glass, broken tiles, you get the picture. Place was a fuckin' pig sty, and for good reason: the nutjobs that made the mess were still here.

I spied two hooded idiots at the far end of the lobby. They were standing in front of a door, sign read as "Main Control Room". And, as Alonzo and Hurk drew up next to me, I knew that they saw 'em as well. They were just standin' there, kinda swayin' left 'n right a little, weird motherfuckers, made a chill crawl up my spine. Alonzo leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"You wanna take 'em down?"

I gave it some thought. Surely these were the Cannoness' goons, the same doofuses that messed up Downtown. Trashed ol' Paulie's place and now they were here messin' up the city. My home. God it was good that they were here and not gone.

I looked at him, grinned and nodded. That made him recoil a little from how fucked up my face looked.

"Let's give 'em hell, boys. Make 'em pay for what they did to our city."

And with that, the two robed guys in our sights, we opened fire.

Rat a tat tat.

When we were done, I was out of bullets for my Typewriter, so I reloaded. Same for my two companions. The two robed idiots were sprawled on the floor, blood seepin' out of the myriad holes in their corpses. Ahead, through the hallways and corridors, I heard sounds, responses, footsteps and yelling.

Oh we had attention. We definitely had attention.

"Right boys, we got them lookin'. Let's give 'em somethin' ta find. You two okay with separating?"

Alonzo and Hurk exchanged a look, then both nodded.

Right, I had to get this out of my head. It was too much.

"Question: are you two, like, special forces or something? You guys are way too comfortable with this shit."

Alonzo glanced at his partner, who shrugged. With a shoulder he gestured to Hurk.

"He is. I'm ex-Navy Seal."

Ah.

"Right then, badasses. Alonzo, you good with goin' alone?"

He nodded and smirked.

"Hey, made a livin' out of it."

Oh I was startin' ta like these guys.

"Awesome, cause you're our distraction. You head that way, down the other hall towards the cafeteria. Make as much noise as you can, draw the attention of the uneducated loons. Me and Hurk will head towards the control room. Once you get done, meet us there."

"You got it Andy."

With his thumb flicking the safety off his rifle, he ambled off to the right. I waited a minute before motioning to the left hallway.

"Alright Hurk, my man. Let's get ramblin'."

"Roger that chief. Lead the way."

Meanwhile...

Collab between DJAtomika and the crafty pig, Part One

Blackout... the lights were out and everyone was home. People were shuffling in the darkness, colliding and apologising with the wry amusement of people who had taken enough shit that darkness couldn't phase them. Phone lights and torches, swept across the room but Arcan didn't need them. Sharp eyes accustomed to the gloom.

Darkness was an odd thing, it brought honesty, a man could be himself when he thought no one could see. Faces downcast and distraught, terrified and afraid froze into intense skull masks or overenthusiastic smiles as soon as a light came near them.

Tommy's face was frustrated, then concerned as he came back into Arcan's field of vision.

"Tower's are out, but I know where they'll be."

Argan nodded

"Turning it back on".

Tommy was back, you could see the old Tommy emerging, like he had just been in the back room fetching a beer. There was power to this man, a presence you had to respect. He talked you listened

"The Martovanni will be sending people to every power station and generator in the area. You want to get in with the heavies, you go to the central station. Tell them Tommy Vercetti sent you for old times sake. They got a problem, you fix it... you're in... God fucking help you."

---

The car was riding low, ricketing over the divets in the road even as he swerved through carnage. People had taken to their homes avoiding the darkness but still the devestation of the riot path he was following forced him to swerve. Dark lamposts bent like rows of elderly widows huddled against the wind, glass from smashed windows littering the pavement like raindrops. A

It was like a ghost town, dead and deserted.

The car thudded again and Argan cursed looking back at the low riding boot. Why had he taken 3 bodies? Scooped them up from the littering that had covered the club floor he couldn't remember exactly why but the voices had been insistent.

There was something off about them, looking into those dead eyes he felt a strange sensation, a sensation that began slipping away as soon as he looked away. The voices began chatting every time he saw them... but it was different like he was listening to one half of a conversation down a paranormal telephone. He couldn't place his finger on it, she was more solid, he could almost see her inside his head, like a badly tuned tv, sound but fuzzy picture. He could almost see her face but when he looked away, distracted she slid away.

Something in those bodies made the madness stronger and that information could be powerful in the right hands. Vampires would know... if he could find the right one.

{ --------------- }

Alonzo kept his course straight and true, and soon he ended up in the cafeteria. Trashed, as expected, but what he didn't expect was that the whole place was completely empty. Earlier he'd heard the noises as well, and they'd come from everywhere. He knew this place was gonna be trouble real soon. His training told him to prepare.

The cafeteria itself was quite well furnished, with the usual picnic-table style tables all over the place. Bolted to the floor, of course, but the chairs weren't, and some of the tabletops had been ripped from their metal housings and tossed aside like paper. Cover, essentially.

Back slinging his rifle, Alonzo set to work building a barricade. He knew that unorganised forces like these were like ants; they'd simply overwhelm by sheer weight of numbers. Right now he didn't know how many ants there were, but he had to be prepared. He wrapped his hands around the edge of a disloged table and began hauling. Three minutes later and he'd stacked what tabletops he could drag over up against the only doorway, covering the rest of the makeshift barricade with chairs, their legs and arms interlocked and steadied to further strengthen the wall. Next to that doorway, the kitchen. Without studying any blueprints, he could already tell that there was another way out through there, probably into the service corridors and tunnels that ran through the whole place. With his barricade in place, he'd effectively made a chokepoint. He ran behind a set of tables at the far end of the room and waited, rifle trained in the other direction.

Soon, there was a thump against the blocked door. A garish face, pale and covered in tattoos, appeared in the glass, growling and snarling as hands pounded against the blocked door. Alonzo took aim and fired a shot, punching a neat hole in the face's nose. As the figure toppled backwards two more replaced him, then four, and a crowd began banging against the door in force.

Meanwhile, through the kitchen, ran several men. Clad in dark red robes and armed with shotguns and pistols, they fanned out into the cafeteria and began firing on Alonzo's position. Buckshot and pistol bullets began to ping and whizz by him, ricocheting against the walls, floor, even the table top. The soldier kept his calm and returned fire.

With short controlled bursts, robed men began falling. His rifle spat and roared, each fiery expulsion of hot lead destroying another enemy. Corpses began to litter the cafeteria floor, even as the makeshift barricade began to shift and fall apart. His badassery and bravery were infinite, but his ammo wasn't, even as he ejected his spent magazine and slapped another one into his rifle, he patted his vest, counting the number of magazines he had left. Several, but not enough to fully fight everything that was being thrown at him.

He'd need help. And fast.

{ --------------- }