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Hello friends and strangers, I am a decently experienced roleplayer and writer. I usually do fantasy related roleplays but I am not against other ideas if requested. I'm 19, male, living in the state of new jersey in the U S of A, so I have Eastern Standard time.

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Christopher Drake Francis



π•„π• π•Ÿ: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. πŸ™πŸš, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / π•Œπ•Šπ”Έβ„π•€π•ƒβ„• 𝔼𝕒𝕀π•₯ / / π”Ύπ•£π• π•¦π•Ÿπ•• ℀𝕖𝕣𝕠 / / πŸšπŸ™πŸ˜πŸ˜



With Chris already having transformed today, he was unable to test the powers of his fully monstrous self for the rest of the day. That didn't matter, he still held some power in his natural state, and now was the time to fully make use of it. After his, rather bitter talk with Zoe, he had headed back to the center of his destruction. His eyes viewed the scenery of destruction and gore. Burned corpses, blood, and debris littered the streets that he had rampaged earlier today. It brought back unpleasant memories, the flames and collapsing buildings from the monster that destroyed his village, the monster that took everything from him. The creature's form was vague, he never saw the details, nor did he know what was that beast's fate after that disaster. What he did know, however, was that pain. The despair of having everything he had once known and love pulled away from him and dragged into the abyss.

What did Zoe know? What did Angelique know? What did any of them know whats that like? Before he had always assumed that they understood what it was like. Even Angelique, who had the unfortunate fate of murdering her fans, even that couldn't compare to the pain he felt. The fear, the Anger. None of them could ever understand.

Her words echoed in his tormented mind.
you're not intimidating,
you're not mature,
you're not some put-upon martyr.
What you are is an overgrown baby; a spineless little bitch who can't control his temper-tantrums.


What did she know? What did she damn well know? Was he supposed to be intimidating? Was he supposed to be mature?! What did that matter here? A martyr? None of them were damned martyrs. They were all cursed, damned by the universe. Who gives a shit about any of that nonsense when the world around them is crumbling. She didn't know, none of them could know, could comprehend, that. To lose, everything. Family, friends, the neighborhood you grew up with, the smiles you used to see. They couldn't fathom his pain. He was sure of it now. They have yet to see the true hell of this world, only glimpses and pieces of the despair the universe was filled with.
Well, they could all go to hell. Chris didn't want to care. Zoe could fuck off for all he could give a shit about. Zoe, Brent, Marcus, they could all be in there trivial friend circles, laugh, and pretend that nothing is wrong. That this is just some school and they were all going to be taken care of. He didn't need any of that bullshit.

An arm clad with scales swung at a cement wall, gouging it. The more he dwelled on that conversation, and his own despair, the angrier his output became. His view became clouded in firey judgement. Forcing himself to cease his inner rants, he focused on training. He needed to become stronger. Strong enough so that no one else has to die. Both the monsters and the amigos will pay in full for what they have done. There was no room for pointless attachments that would just get in his way, that would hurt him once they leave him. He will show everyone, this damned universe that has spitted on him included, that he will rise above it all.

Determination and rage fueled his endeavors. He tested the strength of his armor on cement debris from his previous rampage. He tested his breathe on the walls and floor. Eventually he moved on to the denizens of GZ itself. He swung the back of his armored hand, as hard as he could, at the first pedestrian he could. In his natural form, the desire of destruction was suppressed and could not by itself shake away his morality. Fortunately for him, they weren't real people. Murdering them didn't matter, he knew this, and this thought dismissed the empathy and guilt he felt as he curb stomped the head of the man he knocked down. He drew flames on a crowd of people, punched and kicked at individuals, murdering to practice the lethality of his non-transformed abilities. Passing a metal bar, he melted its ends off with his breath and wielded the iron piece as a sort of weapon. The tips were sharp after they hardened, and he continued his bloodshed by swinging and stabbing the ground zero civilians.

The more he killed, the further that suppressed primordial rage sneaked into his human mind. His anger, his hatred, was first targeted towards the monsters and the amigos. That ire however eventually spread into some of his allies that have brought his anger. Zoe, Marcus, Brent, he occasionally saw there faces on a few he killed. At first he smiled. Not a half-assed smile, not a little curl of the lips. His instinctual vengeance and triggered a morbid cathartic pleasure. It took him a few minutes to fully become aware of his waning sanity, and he forced himself to stop. The result this time, which naturally was of no scale to his dragon form's, still had a moderate trail of murder and destruction. He willed himself away from smiling, and contemplating his actions. Since he was exhausted from his 'exercise', it was relatively easy to tone down that instinct. That desire for blood and vengeance. He tossed away his makeshift weapon and sat down with a sigh.

Have I become what I hated?
You thought you could get rid of me Red, but drag never dies.

You got pranked




I'll admit I'm not too familiar with the anime other then the established premise, but this rp does have my interest and if there's still room I'll make a sheet shortly after getting more familiar with the subject matter, if thats OK.
@Final Boss

So I'm aware that the char sheets aren't out yet and the OoC isn't finished, but with how interested I am in the premise I like to get brainstorming early for some potential ideas. Me and an associate of mine were thinking of doing a sibling duo with one of an ice dragon power and the other of fire dragon power. (Speaking of which what exactly do you mean by test tube babies? Are all the characters from the same generation/age, and is a sibling duo by blood even possible?)

Assuming that this is acceptable; for the physiology or magic department we were wondering if dragon transformation could be available either to start with or to gain later on?
Definitely has my interest, I look forward to see if this gets any traction and a more expansive OOC. Since this is just an interest check, for now I only have a few questions retaining to character creation.

So I understand that at the start everyone will essentially have the same points to spend to essentially build their strengths and weaknesses. I like this concept(and may gun for something dragon related if my namesake hasn't given it away) but I'm curious if there will be any sort of evolutions to these abilities? Will the character abilities/magic be stagnant throughout the rp or do we start off comparably small with our abilities and as the rp progresses there will be some form of upgrade to expand upon said unique abilities?

For instance, say we started with your dragon example as scaled armor and fire breathing to start, later on would they gain upgrades or abilities pertaining to that unique power such as wings, stronger fire/scales, an ability to transform into a dragon, etc?

If so, how would that be managed? Will players be given more points to spend or will these hypothetical upgrades be purely GM managed?
Christopher Drake Francis




It all happened so fast, first the sea boiled with rage, then came its mighty wrath. The massive wave that had suddenly formed had planted Chris straight into the wall of the lighthouse. His body didn't crash all the way through, rather he remained smashed into the wall. The impact broke one of his wings, crippling his chances of ever reaching that goddamn boat. The water was cold, frigid just like the other day. The painful chill was second to the broken wing. With his ability to flight shattered with his dreams of getting vengeance upon these assholes. These goddamned fools that have attacked their own kin when the monsters that writhe in this world seek to exterminate their very race. It made him sick. Disgusted. The futility in his efforts only increased his anger.

While he remained stuck in his place for some moments, his rising anger finally transitioned into movement. The monster of an arbiter freed himself from the wall as his broken body thrashed and further damaged the ruined lighthouse, which caused him to fall ungracefully onto the earth below. It wasn't the worst pain he had felt, between getting a laser through the chest or being flash frozen and shattered, this was the least of painful experiences.

Still, he was enraged, boiling with anger. Reptilian eyes had spotted the boat far into the distance, and Chris unleashed a furiously, guttural cry. A sequence of vicious roars as loud as he could muster in hopes that those damned assailants could *feel* his anger. To understand the feeling that if he had the chance he'd tear and burn them all asunder.
After exhausting his primitive vocal cords, the dragon then rid himself of the dreadful cold touch of the sea by breathing fire beneath him, vaporizing the cold water upon him into a hot steam.

Yes, all of them. All will burn by my hand. Every damned one of them. Someone will pay for Angel's death.

But who? They had made their get away. Gone and out to see away from his wrath...However then he recalled Ernie's warning.

The mansion.

Ironic that Ernie had told him to keep him away, but if there was any chance they left any of these bastards behind Chris certainly planned on taking the opportunity. Rage had blinded him with confidence, the sea had smited his flight and several of the assailants had fled, but there was still an opportunity to shed blood. There will be no survivors, he was going to make this organization rue the day they ever messed with his team. There was one obvious problem however, aside from distinguishing allies from enemies.

These are in the way.

Chris's neck slithered back into a U, his maw darted and bit down hard on the base of his broken wing. There was no hesitation in force, no reluctant pause to consider getting a healer. Chris's bloodlust had become distant from such reasoning. he couldn't fix it, and the healers probably had more important injuries to take care of. A broken wing would get in the way of his sprinting, he'd be better off without it. The broken wing snapped off from the force, draconic blood gushing out from the wounded stump.

Ill escort these bastards straight to hell!

The pain was immense. It was one thing to nearly die, but self inflicted amputation was never easily registered, even for a dragon. The pain had only increased the adrenaline and his ire. To balance himself out, he severed his other, still-functioning, wing. The self inflicted pain had likely made him go mad, not just angry, but mentally unstable. Someone was certainly going to die from his burning vengeance.

Despite his berserk-like state, the pain had immobilized him for some expanse of a short moment. He panted with saliva and blood drooling from his saurian mouth. Once the adrenaline had overcome his maddened pain, Chris unleashed another battle cry as he darted off into a sprint. Like a predator in pursuit Chris accelerated quickly into a violent charge. His body moving like a s-shaped motion not unlike a lizard, and his speed was certainly impressive for his size. As his already swift sprint became closer to rivaling a cheetah's, his typical lizard-like movement evolved into a more cat-like run. He zipped past the light house with another cry of vengeance as his clawed feet tore through the earth. His eyes shifted to track heat as he made his way towards the estate to spot any of these damned criminals on the way.

Christopher Francis



π•Žπ•–π••: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / π•ƒπ•šπ•˜π•™π•₯𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕀𝕖 / / ~πŸ˜πŸπŸ›πŸ˜



The sandstorm triggered Chris's nictitating membrane to shield his eyes from the harsh sand. While his vision was protected, the leathery skin membrane of his wings were not so durable as the rest of his armored body; With the strong wind current and the sand particles that rained upon his wings like bullets, his flight maneuverability was becoming hampered by the condition. With two walls now blocking the way for the rest of the team and the trees still pouring in like zombies, Chris had to move quickly. He was unable to see the attackers in his current position and would only be able to do so once he can fly over those walls, a task becoming less likely as the sand continued to rain down.

Chris ignored Ernie's transmission, he had no plans to take cover. Before he could advance however, Allison's transmission stopped him. Unlike Ernie's suggestion, Chris was able to move past his seething ire of blood lust in favor of strategy. Allison said that Angelique may be alive, and while that was an unlikely speculation, Chris was optimistic enough to want to at least try and recover her alive...if Allison was right in her guessing.

A swift u-turn changed Chris into the direction of the wind's path, making his trip towards Allison and others by what was left of the lighthouse to be a slightly easier journey. He descended upon his teammates with a crashing thud into the earth, feet planted firmly on the impact. Fierce eyes and a monstrous roar displayed that Chris was not being very patient. His tail thwacked hard against the earth as if to say to his comrades to hurry the hell up and climb on. Like Zoe, Chris was out for blood, and he would be damn sure these assholes get whats coming to them whether or not they have Angelique.
I'll express some interest into this.
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