ERode

Kurai Majoko: Dark Magical Girls

Eyo, dropping this here, under the assumption this RP is still open.

BATTORU

Magical Girl Appearance

Kamogawa 'Asura' Maiko

⚔ ☯ ㊊ ✠

---

Age: 16
Emblem: A large tattoo, composed of scarlet ink and reminiscent of a greatsword, stretches from the base of Maiko’s neck to her lower back. In the dark, it pulsates gently to the rhythm of her heartbeat.
Devil Arm: Once, Maiko wielded a beautiful greatsword, crafted of quicksilver and embossed with golden dragons. That sword is gone now, shattered under the pressure of her battle lust, its misshapen shards sinking into her flesh and remaking her vital organs. Her heart is nigh unbreakable, while her bones have hardened to the extent that her former armor is redundant at best, a handicap at worst.

Magic: When she was elated with her powers as a magical girl, Maiko played with space itself, capable of freely manipulating distance and creating portals that would swallow up and redirect the attacks of her enemies. It was a highly potent defensive and counter-based fighting style. Now though, she hardly cares for her spatial sorcery, instead boosting her physical parameters and regenerative capabilities to monstrous levels.

Only one truly magical power still resides within Maiko, both a mark of her conviction and a sign of her fraying madness: Quickstep, a short-range teleportation ability that brings her face-to-face with her enemies. No retreat, no escape, no ranged combat. She will always be there to beat their face in.

Background
She wanted to fight for more.

It was never about friendship. It was never about protecting normality. It was never about standing up for the weak. It was a fight against boredom, against a reality that threatened to swallow her whole and hammer her down. Magical girls were only magical for as long as they were ‘girls’ after all, and though her brother may have been blessed with having an ‘extraordinary’ life, Maiko’s own prospects were so much dimmer.

So before she fell apart, before she became another nail in a plank, she’ll drown herself in the boundary line between life and death, risking her sanity and her limbs to be reborn again and again in the shredded resentment of her foes.

None of her family was in harms’ way. None of her friends had met tragic ends. Her entire life was bereft of suffering, and her heart was not made of fragile innocence.

No, Maiko shattered her holy sword simply because she wanted something new.

When she clenches her fist on a night with a full moon, she clenches it not in opposition of the abnormal, but in opposition of the ordinary.

Inventory: A cheap MP3 player and an equally cheap set of earbuds, loaded up with songs that get her blood pumping and her mind in the zone.

Sample Post

It writhed like a wingless wyrm, bubbles of tar popping from its diseased form as it slunk around the shadows, searching for succulent sorrows on that full moon night. The alleyway was dim, but not dim enough to mask the abyssal aberration that it housed, and three blocks away, Maiko had no problem at all spotting it.

It was simply the question then, of whether she should let this Nightmare grow a little bigger before reaping her harvest, or if she should take care of it now, before someone else takes her prey. Decisions, decisions, decisions. Her legs swung off the side of the roof as the nighttime breeze tousled her ashen hair. Heavy beats hammered down her eardrums, numbing the stress of the last month, while her gauntleted hands continued to clench and unclench.

Yes or no?

In her mind’s eye, the coin flipped and dropped, clattering in the void.

Yes.

The Devil’s Heart hammered against her rib cage as her toes dug into the concrete of the building. From here, it was a straight shot, and she kicked off, spider web fractures bursting from where she launched herself. A shadowed blur crossed through the starry sky with a smile, smashing into the Nightmare. It retaliated almost immediately, a dozen arachnid-esque appendages shlopping from its grotesque form to skewer the intruder.

But it was too late.

Its response had been that of a monster, not of a mortal, and by the time its counterattack began, Maiko was already laughing, grabbing fistfuls of goop and ripping the Nightmare apart. Within moments, the walls were painted black with resentment, broken appendages tossed haphazardly across the quiet alleyway. The core of the monster seeped into her soul.

She enjoyed the afterglow of violence, for just a moment.

Then, she spat out a wad of phlegm.

Fuck, that wasn’t nearly enough.

Shoulda let it grow after all.

Altera: Of Departures and Deliverance

Muu

"Hehh," the fisherman mused, having recovered enough from the initial pain of getting a hook to the eye to remove his hand from the wound, "How er ye lost witout a destination then, lassie?"

Blood dripped from the gash in his leathery eyelid, thick, dark droplets sliding down onto his salt and pepper beard as he watched the tides impassively. "Well, food n board, mm? Ye got coinz on ye?"

Altera: Of Departures and Deliverance

Matteo

The one Matteo accosted was perhaps one of the more approachable figures amongst the robed individuals. The necklace that hung from the man was decorated with red beads and a silver tag, while his complexion was warm and healthy. Unlike the somber or slightly resentful expressions held by some others, he had a pleasant smile on his face as he dropped a couple bronze coins into the pan of another downtrodden individual, a pale set of scales sparking on the back of his hand as they clinked against the small pile that had already formed. Silver hair, dyed with red streaks, was tied back in a short ponytail, while dark chocolate eyes met with Matteo's: first holding his gaze, before drifting towards the bronze chip hanging from the newcomer's necklace.

"Oh, newcomer, eh? Guess that makes you my junior," he said cheerily, sticking out a hand for a shake, "Name's Etono, thief-by-trade, and fellow Silver Moon soldier. Pretty fun place, ain't it?"

Altera: Of Departures and Deliverance

Muu

The grizzled fisherman glared at her with his one good eye, trying to determine whether she was a cowardly thief, or just a coward. But it was dark enough that such complex facial reads were too difficult, and all the three small fish he had gained during the last couple hours were still circling about in his bucket, so he let the girl off the hook with a heavy harumph.

"Hard t'get lost 'round these parts, missy," he said, picking up his fishing pole and casting the line once more, "But where ye headed? Can't be lost witout a destination 'n all."

Altera: Of Departures and Deliverance

Ash

Were there five? It was hard to tell in darkness, harder still when one's eyes were drawn towards the light. As far as Ash could recall, they were a group of four when they departed from the catacombs. It was a curious thought to have, one that was soon set aside in order to take in the bright, cheerful view around.

Not much had changed since the androgynous amnesiac had departed from the plaza. The musician that daringly darted from rooftop to rooftop was still playing the same endless ditty, while merrymakers clinked their mugs and feasted to their liking. Warmth and humidity was abound, and a dozen different scents drew her to two dozen different places. On the streets alone, there were vendors selling kebabs, portable stalls featuring bowls of noodles or soup, candy sculpters twisting sugar into the shape of animals, and strongmen carrying barrels of ale on their broad shoulders while offering refills to ladies that fawned after them. Taverns were open as well, advertising 'happy hour' or 'daily specials' or 'one-night performances'. There was The Whaler's Lament, Roselia's, The Smith and Sword, and even a couple of places that looked like little more than holes in walls.

But despite the overload of visual and aural stimuli, Ash could notice details that she had not before. Most people were clad in armor, their weapons strapped on them, their necklaces clattering against steel breastplate. Those necklaces varied in ornamentation as well, from bronze to silver to gold to a shinier material, the enscriptions upon them becoming more elaborate the more precious the material was. Clear too was how unified in celebration the warriors were. There were no bad drunks, no fights, no arguments, not this early in the night, even as their faces were flushed with alcohol. Praise to an 'Ain-Mala' resounded throughout the many gatherings on the outside, while only a few by the windows of taverns raised their own mugs to toast.

And then, there were the destitute poor, slumped inbetween alleyway walls, arms crossed and dozing off despite the raucous chattering. Some had missing limbs, bandages over their eyes. Others had necklaces without any ornamentation at all, while still more had necklaces bearing many different tags. Most in the crowd paid them no heed, too busy immersing themselves in wholesome drunkeness to care, but here and there, a few individuals with robes the color of the sky would drop a coin or two to the rusted pans set beside those panhandlers.

But the state of the disabled and disadvantaged was none of Ash's concern.

No, she still had food to grab, didn't she?

Altera: Of Departures and Deliverance

Muu

Her whisper remained unanswered.

She tried again.

Her murmurs went unanswered.

She tried again.

Her words went unanswered.

She gathered up her courage, took a deep breath, apologized for the intrusion, and then tapped the fisherman on the shoulder tentatively, speaking up as loudly as she could.

"BUWH?!" The night fisher started, jumping up from his stool. Reflexively, he flexed his burly arms, pulling sharply on the rod. But with no fish on the other end, the line hopped and leapt out of the water, the hook smacking him in the face. "URK!" went the elderly seaman as he clutched his eye, dropping the fishing pole while hopping back, only to kick his small wooden stool. One hearty splash later, and the stool sunk into the waters below, eliciting a groan from the old man.

One thick hand nursed his right eye, while his left eye narrowed in Muu's direction, as if he had just noticed her there.

"Who er you, lassie? Not tinking ov teken muh fish, are ye?"

星空 不朽 | Hoshizora Everlasting

---

Toukotan Park - The Asterisk
Spring, SY 3233/UC 233/AY 117

---

Who the hell was this fuckboi?

Out of nowhere, some lanky fellow who was even pastier than herself joined in on the commentary, slinging mad puns like an inappropriately comedic newscaster. For a moment there, Merringo contemplated tossing out a middle finger before sticking a rod up his ass, but such pointlessly spiteful actions were quelled easily by the fact that, hey, if they got into trouble for this, she could split the blame!

“Indeed, Mr. Goutrev,” Merringo chimed, making a name up on the spot, “It truly is awful for children to be getting into unsanctioned fights right at the start of school! This must reflect quite poorly on the planets they’re representing, as well as their own character. Oh, to think that the Asterisk, a symbol of humanity’s unity and an academy for raising the brightest amongst the stars, would devolve into a delinquent’s paradise so soon!”

But then, out of nowhere, a new challenger arrived, and with all the drama of a badly produced movie’s shaky cam, Merringo swivelled just in time to catch Princess Lukarya Ahn-Rysslind fon Zahria Amarant’s dramatic entrance. An errant wind caused her hair to billow dramatically, while her heels clicked above the noise of the rabble, announcing her every step. If it wasn’t for the live streaming, the auburn-haired youth would have been tempted to slap on some tense, heroic soundtrack right there, but alas, twas the burden of live journalism.

“What’s this? An exciting new development, folks! It appears that her Excellency, the third Princess of the esteemed Amarant Dynasty, has arrived to quell this f- Nope, here we go again. As expected of an imperial warrior-princess, lashing out immediately once words fail her! A decisive attack! But it looks like Sylas Flaurence, as that man claims himself as, isn’t out of th- Nevermind! He is! Wow, if the Third Princess of the Amarant Dynasty, Lukarya Ahn-Rysslind fon Zahria Amarant doesn’t get herself expelled for this, we can certainly expect bright, combat-centric performances from her in the near future, whether sanctioned or unsanctioned! Now, let’s have a play-by-play of that amazingly fast duel. Goutrev, back to you.”

But such things could only last so long before the authorities arrived, clad in power suits and official-looking badges, dispersing the crowd and dragging key witnesses or suspects or whatever fucking else into the cars.

…

Well, she supposed this was a natural consequence of recording the entire fight while offering commentary as well. What a life.

“Hey, seeing how I know where the police station is and all, I can head over there on my bike, yeah?”

A non-committal response, befitting of a lawful drone.

“Cool.”

Altera: Of Departures and Deliverance

It ticked away, every minute that stole more sleeping time from him, and at this point, it was clear that this group of four couldn’t grasp the situation fast enough. That angry child had the right idea, but couldn’t act upon it, while the sole male in the group appeared to be naught but an incompetent who spent more time thinking than acting. A sigh. A waste of time, really.

But a job was a job, and the faster he got them all processed, the better.

“I’m sending you bunch out,” the man replied to Aoi, shuffling through drawers before pulling out four simple necklaces, accompanied by four bags of clinking metal. Simple bronze tags, marked with a crescent moon, hung from the necklaces, while the brown, cloth bags themselves were tattered and looked to be constructed from scraps. “The necklaces are identification, marking you as trainees. Replacing one is five silver, and takes three days to process the request. The guards won’t let you come back into the city without them, and you get some added benefits with them. You can pay more for more benefits, but that's not relevant for you. The bags have ten silver. That’ll get you started.”

A pause, as he finished what remained of the crystalline glass, putting away his bottle and rising from his seat.

“It’s half past midnight, but it shouldn’t be hard to find your seniors amongst the crowd. With the objective of monster slaying as guidance, use your individual skills and judgment to figure out how to proceed.” Bony fingers reached out for his glasses, removing them carefully before he slipped them between the folds of his clothing. “Now the office is closed. Get your shit and get out.”

And a few minutes later, whether they decided to get their ‘gifts’ or not, the torchlights within the paper-laden room were snuffed out by an errant wind.

---

With heavier pockets than before, the four found themselves outside the empty plaza once more, now in almost total darkness as whatever warmth was within the recruiting office was blown out. Above, the stars shone brightly, and around, the city still called.

To the west, the familiar revelry and festive chaos they had bore witness to called for them.

To the east, the wind carried salt and water, promising the nostalgia and peace of nighttime currents.

To the north, the great shadows of tall mountains loomed, white light emanated from certain parts of the sheer face.

To the south, the revelry was decidedly more seedy, aggressive, an edgy counterpoint to merrymakers of the west.

Four directions. Four people. But that did not mean they need to split up, nor did it mean that they must seek union amongst themselves first.

The night was growing long.

Shelter, food, water, warmth, security.

What would they pursue?
@Denny@changejar@Buzzkill@Burger

Altera: Of Departures and Deliverance

There was a directness, a fire to the blonde waif's words, one that perhaps would have sparked something within the man in the past. Now though, he responded with an indifferent raising of his eyebrow, before downing the remainder of his glass and pouring himself another drink.

"No," he replied, "that's not my job. Whether you remain fodder or not depends on your own actions, not mine."

The pendulum continued to swing back and forth. So many chances, and yet, they've failed to ask the most important one.

"Anything else? Or shall I send you all on your way?"

Altera: Of Departures and Deliverance

Muu

Pushing eastwards, Muu traveled in solitude through busy streets as the clocktower chimed for midnight. Men stinking of booze sang loud, off-key songs of lost love and moonlit strolls, while vendors continued to hawk their wares towards those not inside any particular establishment. A few armored men toasted to 'their fair lady, the ever fertile Ain-Mala', their necklaces clinking along with their mugs, laughing uproariously upon a table laden with greasy meats. It whet her appetite, slightly, but her walk pulled her away from the warmth of the feast, past the quiet plaza, and through narrow, lonely streets until finally, the world opened up before her a second time.

As crowded buildings dissolved, Muu could feel it, hear it, see it more clearly than ever before. The salt-laden winds and the soothing splash of waves against the piers' pillars. Warehouses, like beached whales, loomed on the terrain as torchlight exposed the position of the unlucky few tasked with guarding them during the night shift. On the moonlit waters, anchored ships creaked as they rolled gently with the waves, and above them, the stars shone more brightly than ever before, their brilliance no longer outshone by fire and music.

A few huts lined the small, rocky beach nearby, and a couple shadows sat on the side of the pier, fishing away in the night. Perhaps there were greater things to consider. Perhaps she should find a place to sleep, food to fill her stomach, money to fuel her lifestyle.

But the sounds of the sea was calming and familiar.

Perhaps she could do such things later.