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I'm Pollen, hope you're not allergic. I like writing a myriad of characters in all kinds of genres, so I'm pretty much down for anything. Also have a soft spot for Arena stuff, because coming up with insane powersets and abusing the heck out of them is fun.

Come talk to me if you want! I'm friendly.

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All right- maybe this weirdo was a little creepy, but he didn't seem to have any malignant intentions. Could be that this was just a meeting of happenstance, and he really was only a curious foreigner like he said. Jill still eyed the boy warily, but she lowered her gun, letting it hang lightly in one hand, pointed towards the ground.

"All right," she said slowly, "I barely understood half of what you just said, but from what I can tell you're either lyin' or you don't mean any harm. And I'm damn good at sniffing out liars." She sniffed at the air, as if she'd meant it literally, then nodded her head in satisfaction. "All right, I'm just gonna call you Orphy. And this here is-"

She jumped in surprise as another voice piped up, whipping her flintlock towards the source of the noise and then lowering it again with a sigh when the speaker turned out to be a harmless-looking... kid? Goat? Damn it, weren't there any normal people in this place?

"It's not magic," she snapped back, sounding a little like an irritated teacher, "it's Alchemistry." She looked back and forth between Orphy and the newcomer, having a hard time believing they couldn't recognize such a simple weapon. "Do they not teach you landlubbers this stuff in school?" Maybe they didn't, if they came from places where people sat around and ate leaves. Seemed the other worlds might be more different than Jill had thought.

@Gentlemanvaultboy @Rai
It wasn't long before Jill caught wind of people moving around nearby, passing through the castle in their own strange ways. Most of them didn't come near- or at least, not near enough to be a threat -but she kept an eye out, partly out of curiosity and partly so she'd be ready if anyone tried to fuck with her.

Sure enough, someone soon drifted a little too close for comfort. Drifted in the literal sense, since the boy was apparently floating a foot or more clear of the ground. Jill blinked a few times at that. How did it work? Was he some kind of ghost, or just harnessing the wind in such a way as to keep himself aloft? No, it couldn't be: there wasn't much of a breeze about, and he'd be tossing and turning this way and that if he were using the air. Whatever made him float, it was like nothing Jill had ever seen. She frowned, all the more aware of just how little she knew about her situation.

Very slowly and calmly, taking care not to look directly at the newcomer, she set a flask down at the edge of the fountain. No need to be rash. Maybe the ghost-boy was just curious. Maybe he'd go away-

She heard something, a sharp pop, and burst into motion without even thinking. In a single motion she'd drawn her pistol and whipped around to face the floating boy, aiming the barrel directly at his head.

So much for passing unnoticed.

"You got business with me?" she growled, turning the flintlock to one side whilst keeping her aim level. "Out with it. Did someone send you?"

Aiyanna Price

For someone meant to be supervising a massive throwdown between a bunch of psycho mages, Church Girl sure didn't look very tough. Aiyanna cocked her head to one side, sizing the Executor up, wondering what would happen if she attacked this Vatican chick here and now. She could blow the girl's head off, burn down the church, stick up a giant middle finger to all those smug-ass mage families and their stupid rules-

She stopped herself, biting her lip. Easy, girl. Being a little bloodthirsty was handy in a fight, but she couldn't let herself get too eager. Like it or not, she had to play along for now, or they'd all gang up on her before she had a chance to gain momentum.

Well, with Berserker on her side, fighting them all wasn't out of the question. She spared a sidealong glance at cute little Scylla, and smiled. Soooon...

"Aiyanna Price," she said after a moment of silence, "Master of Berserker. You need photo ID? Driver's license? I can give you my number, if you ask nicely." She raised one golden eyebrow, grinning lasciviously, then burst out laughing and turned on her heel, heading for the doors. "All right, we're done here. Come on, Berserker."

Her awareness exploded outwards, flooding through the church and hundreds of meters beyond and picking up warmth, heat, wherever it radiated out in the cool night. Living beings resolved themselves into vaguely glowing forms: herself, Scylla, Church Girl, and further out...

"By the way, we might be about to have company," she added without slowing down. "Sorry you don't get much time to rest, but I'll be counting on you."

@Crusader Lord@VitaVitaAR
Apparently not everyone had been around for the little chat in the throne room- or at least, one particular guest hadn't seen fit to show up where she was supposed to. It was a simple fact of life that pirates rarely did as they were told.

Instead, Jillian McAnn had somehow made her way to the palace garden, where she was happily tearing up flowers by the dozen and grinding them to paste with a mortar and pestle.

Honestly, how the flying fuck had they been dumb enough to leave a jackpot like this unguarded? There were all sorts of strange weeds here, including some Jill couldn't even name, and she'd been around the world at least twice in her lifetime. All that multiple-universes shit the Moogles had tried to explain to her didn't make much sense, but if it meant there were bounties like this lying about, she wasn't about to complain. Exotic plants were valuable where she was from: many produced compounds you couldn't get through any other means, and that made them valuable Alchemical components.

Having mashed a pile of purple blossoms to pieces, she dug a hand in one pocket and retrieved a small vial, uncorking it and sprinkling just the barest hint of red dust out onto the ruined flowers. Almost immediately, they caught fire, sending up streams of dark smoke that Jill quickly inhaled.

Smelled sweet. Ionone? She could work with ionone...

For the moment, however, she moved on, pulling up more flowers and destroying them in a similar manner. Before long, she was mixing them too, dissolving them in solvents then filtering each solution for different compounds. This place was her laboratory, now, and she'd doubtless be able to cook up some handy brews before the time came to fuck up the Heartless. Let the talky people do their talking, she'd be making weapons.
"Goddamn town is too quiet."

The rickety car tore along a cracked and bumpy road, rumbling and rattling as it sped through a half-dozen red lights and two empty intersections, slowing only as it slid past a lonely cop car waiting by the side of the road. Soon as it was out of sight, Aiyanna started picking up speed again, rolling down the windows to let the cool night air rush over her skin.

"A girl can live her whole life here and have nothing actually happen, you know? Like being stuck in a fucking snowglobe, 'cept without the snow."

The church loomed up ahead, a pointy shadow stretching up against the stars. Aiyanna rushed on towards it, showing no signs of slowing down- until at the very last moment she slammed the brakes and brought her run-down ride to a screeching halt, not a few feet from the church's front doors.

"Way I see it, we're doing this place a favor." She twisted her keys, pulled them out, threw open a door and hopped out, pulling a heavy black duffel bag with her. Wouldn't make sense to leave her gear unattended. "For once, this town is gonna mean something. Whether it knows it or not, Redrock is going down in history from this night onwards." She glanced at the empty air beside her, cracking a smile. "And who knows? With a bit of luck, maybe we will too."

She strode up to the church doors, pausing, drawing in a breath. Rambling helped when she was nervous, let her get her thoughts in order. Hopefully Berserker wouldn't mind, though it was honestly hard to tell with that girl. Things'd be easier once the war got underway. Once she knew which targets to go after, who she needed to burn. They could have a jolly old time smashing things up together and trying not to die. For now, though? Formalities. Ugh.

Kicking open the door, she walked her way on in, raising a hand in greeting to the blue-haired figure within.

"Church person! We're here to sign up for the murder party."

@VitaVitaAR@Crusader Lord
Should we wait for more people, or are you three enough for a full game?

I think we're enough to get started. If more finish profiles later we can have them join in then, I guess?

If it makes things more plot-convenient I could make my character a Keyblader.
The boy had at least some fight in him- even though Tekla caught him off guard with her ability, he still kept his focus and threw out a quick counterattack with his left. Splendid!

It was a simple move, but an effective one: Tekla’s forward momentum made it impossible for her to move back in time, her left arm was already committed to an attack, and if she defended with her right, she risked letting his sword arm loose. Worse, her weapon-conjuring ability couldn’t be used for a few seconds after each summoning, and she’d spent it to make her armor and get in close. Simple attack or no, she had few options to work with.

However, Tekla wasn’t going to be stopped by one little palm thrust.

As the boy’s arm lashed out, she ducked her head in response, tucking her chin tight. She couldn’t avoid the strike entirely- Tekla wasn’t that fast -but she could keep it from hitting where he wanted.

A hard smack resounded from the impact. Rather than crushing the soft cartilage of her nose, the boy's palm slammed against her hard forehead, knocking her head back. It was still a painful blow, one that jarred her brain and made her vision swim, but her skull bore the brunt of it, and she’d been ready. Her thoughts were dazed, dizzy, she grunted in pain- but she had him.

She had him.

The boy could hit harder than one would have thought for his size, but she still held his right wrist tight, and her left hand now smashed into his throat, and the momentum of Tekla’s bulrush carried them on, her sheer weight and speed pushing him off his feet and towards the ground.

At the same time, her fingers closed around his neck.

The blow to the throat wouldn’t hit quite so hard as Alexander expected, especially given his opponent’s size. Tekla hadn’t simply been seeking to hurt him, however. Rather than hit with a closed fist or jabbing fingers, the blow landed as an open hand, delivering a relatively light impact- until Tekla gripped hard, wrapping her long fingers around the side and back of his neck to keep hold whilst her thumb pressed in, crushing his windpipe and cutting off his breath. With her weight, momentum, and a solid hold on him, she’d slam him painfully to the ground, strangling him with her left hand, her left arm now fully extended.

This last was important. Not only had her attack given her the hold she could use to choke and likely pin him down, it also let her keep him at a set distance. She was taller than him, her reach longer. Her face might have been open, but with her now holding her opponent at arm’s length by the neck, he effectively wouldn’t be able to reach her head with any follow-up strikes. He might be able to get a body shot in, but she still had armor there. In short: his left arm couldn’t reach her, his right arm was still caught, and he was very likely pinned and unable to breathe.

Tekla glared down at him, teeth bared in a ferocious expression, leaving no doubt at all that she would strangle him until he lost consciousness if need be.

“Yield. Drop the sword.”
Name: Jillian 'Sharkspittle' McAnn
Her skin's bleached pale on account of her imbibing mountains of exotic chemicals and combat drugs over the course of her short but illustrious career. Has a surprisingly high-pitched and childlike voice.


Age: Nineteen turns 'round the sun, more or less.



World Sheet
@Letter Bee

Name: Jillian 'Sharkspittle' McAnn

Her skin's bleached pale on account of her imbibing mountains of exotic chemicals and combat drugs over the course of her short but illustrious career. Has a surprisingly high-pitched and childlike voice.


Age: Nineteen turns 'round the sun, more or less.



World Sheet
A sweet image of innocence
Her presence here so dissonant
Amidst the shadows and the grime.
Run, small one, while there’s still time!
Sneak away, find somewhere safe
A hidey-hole for a thin waif
Somewhere the demon will not seek,
Some lonesome refuge for the meek.

But nay, she strays not from her path
She cries to tempt the madman’s wrath
And all that’s left to do is pray
He does not come thisaway
Alas, the girl is not alone,
Her presence here is now beknown.

Quiet eyes observe her gentle walk,
Quiet feet behind her slowly stalk,
And from the vilest, blackest depths of shade
A shadow strikes, a great and dark curved blade!

Edge turned aside, the flat swings down
Towards the little wanderer’s crown
Seeking not her life to reap
But to knock her into dazed sleep
So that the Red Pierrot may snatch
Her up, to later on dispatch…
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