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Kina City///Dark District


An interloper. 181.74 centimeters tall, dull, blond hair, and indigo eyes. Sinewy frame, clear even through the uniform of Kina City’s civil servants. On reflex, Io sought access to the Greater Space, an infinitesimally small beam of light shooting through the back of their head towards the skies above. But access was not granted. Their credentials remained too corrupted to reach the archives within and cross-reference information. The crest was of the military, the details in the ironwork detailing his specialties. The musk of chemicals and black powder clung onto the man stubbornly, a shroud that could not be washed away even with soap and regular scrubbing. Far more potent in the air were the traces of a compound: powderized Yellow Earishill and vaporized Siltlight, designed to be neutralized seconds after being introduced to the air, but potent enough to knock out an inebriated man instantly.

Io rewound the scene in their left eye, repeating the sequence of motions performed until they could state with certainty that the dispenser had come from the disguised cufflink on the man’s right wrist, a small piece of a larger contraption. For an assassination tool, it wasn’t polished. For a policing tool, it was useful. They recorded the military man’s first aid as well, noting the focus on preventing infection rather than treating the injury itself. Practical. Efficient. No hypothesis necessary for whether or not Subject B was aware of the state of Subject A’s fingers. It wasn’t the first time those bones had broken, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Io focused on their nose, where blood and oils still remained from Subject A’s first and only punch. The foreign fluids dissipated immediately, absorbed into the Sentry’s form for continued analysis over the course of the next twenty three minutes. Though differences have been gradual, the make-up of human beings have changed over the course of the eras, and it remained their duty to take samples of and document these changes. The same could be said of the alcohol and shards of glass that managed to stick onto Io’s head; like blood and oil, those too were assimilated into the Sentry’s body with little ceremony. Craftsmanship was useful to keep track of as well. Not all trades progressed at the same rate of technological development, after all, while some regressed intentionally after reaching a certain level. Compartmentalization of Circuitry enabled multiple analyses to occur while maintaining enough to continue general observation duties.

Unblinking, Io shifted out of their mind and back into the world. Seconds had passed at this point, Subject B’s question lingering in the air. Accessing short-term storage enabled the Sentry to uncover the question that had been asked, but, as always, the Façade Decryption Module had difficulty with the myriad of muscle twitches performed in the span of seventy two milliseconds, and the process was manually shut down before it consumed too much processing power.

“No.” was the answer that arose after Io consolidated all the voices they’ve heard since coming to Kina City, fusing them all into a singular voice that at once old and young, masculine and feminine, wholly inflection-less.

And that was all that Io judged necessary.

Turning away, Io continued down the narrow streets.

Follow violence.

The directive of the Prime Circuit echoed through their senses once more, and the Sentry obeyed without hesitation.
Sandy Akai
19 y/o | Communications Major | Japan


Hobbies |
✧Urban Exploration
✧Food Blogging
✧Photography
✧Shoe Shopping

Personality |
✓Freewheeling
✓Playful
✓Dedicated
✗Wayward

History |
Sometimes, life’s a box of chocolates. Other times, it’s a can of worms. Sandy, however, thinks that most people try to live by keeping their cans and boxes permanently shut, to preserve all the pretty packaging. And that’s pretty dull.

Born the second daughter in a middle-class family, Sandy’s truancy and troublemaking started at an early age, not due to a call for attention towards negilient parents or because she had no friends at school, but because she was bored. Sometimes she’d skip classes and break into the school’s rooftop. Other times, she’d travel down alleyways and sidestreets on the way home, just because her parents told her not to. Once, she managed to sneak into a nightclub (during day, of course) through the back door, before the owner scared her off. Her small bits of rebellion never translated into anything truly dangerous or violent, and Sandy went through life as an otherwise average student. Her older brother described her as a baby bird once, flapping her wings even before she could truly fly.

Then she did fly. Her parents, after raising a son who looked to have a promising career in business, wholly approved of stepping into the next level and raising a daughter who could work internationally, and supported Sandy’s desire to go to an international school by paying her semi-exorbitant tuition. Her food and rooftopping blog (an eccentric combination to say the least, but she just calls it ‘lifestyle’), fuelled her more expensive tastes, and her budding adulthood gave her the full confidence to step into the nightclub (during night, this time) that she escaped from all those years back.

It wasn’t a big deal though. Definitely not as stylish as the top of a construction crane.

Huh, so are people gonna be accepted into this RP on a first come first serve basis after all? Or does the approval here mean something else?
In the end, it'll probably not matter all that much. I'm sure it's less brain-shattering for Burger if you just didn't turn things into fancy mechanics. It's easy enough just to have injuries pop up on Kori while someone else takes less damage than they expect.

That being said, neither STR nor END really contribute to the ability for people to block blades with their muscles, because even GARETH LANDROCK, STRONGEST DWARF OF THE DUNGEON CITY, gets his butt skewered constantly. So even if Kori and Grim stacked their stuff together, it'd be more like 'stabbing through flesh that is 2x more dense' rather than 'stabbing through defensive values of D+ x2'.

END's more like stamina, afaik.
Imagine not capitalizing the 'E' in 'ERode'.

Anyways, four front liners and one back liner means Varanense can AFK forever until you all die to something you can't out DPS. Awesome. I'm fine with this. Would be better if we had one male player-made God amongst em, but I guess we can't have everything.

Kina City///Dark District


Follow violence.

That was the last directive deciphered from the garbled remains of the Prime Circuit, and Io had followed it since. Endless violence between Kina City and Ghaba Madina, and the nations surrounding them who profited off conflict. The Sentry had gathered much in their last month of activity, and now sought to gather more within the walls of the mountainous fortress-nation.

The sky was blue and bright, clouds splotching cerulean purity with their puffy, white forms. The sun beat down overhead, gently roasting the white stones that Kina City was constructed of. Masses of humanity could be found everywhere, and so could their ideologies. Posters plastered the walls, decrying the atrocities of the beastman and calling for the pureblooded to rise and defend their nation from the savage threat. Crippled veterans stood out on wide-open plazas, the Voice Stones tied around their necks enabling their fiery rhetoric about the immoral, deviant crimes of war committed by their mutant foes to echo through crowds of people whose opinions already aligned with them before this. Off to a corner, an ugly child, forced into a cloak of animal furs, was being beaten by crueller peers. Elsewhere, someone peddled magical tools bearing the mark of Ghaba Madina, having liberated them from a caravan a few days past.

Io closed their eyes, briefly. They remembered that caravan. Crows chewing intestines, the shattered husk of a carriage left to rot and rust on the bottom of a valley.

They opened them again, recording the face of the merchant, the crowds of prospective customers they drew in. Then turned and walked off. The Hope District was meaningless, the Light District was toothless. If one were to follow violence and vice, the Dark District was the only way to go.

The buildings became taller and the streets narrower. Even in midday, long shadows were cast over the roads and alleyways, the sky becoming slivers amongst the desiccated cesspool that was the Dark District. This was the endpoint of wealth and affluence, the rotten underbelly of prosperity. Io took it all in, their senses sharp enough to draw in all that the district’s citizens have grown numb to. White sheets dried in the stale air, but they’d never be clean, not where it mattered. Children in the body of grown men picked fights with wild abandoned, spitting out teeth as onlookers laughed. Merchants and customers would slit each other’s throats alike if they knew they could get away with it. A degraded noble rocked quietly against a piss-stained wall, thin rags hiding their emaciated frame but doing little to hide the stench of the parasites chewing away their insides.

Io did not shy away from this either. They continued to observe, their green hair flat against their back, their glowing eyes boring into the skulls of all those that required further observation. None of them looked like they would like to be remembered, but the Sentry didn’t care either.

Follow violence.

The nature-infested nation of Ghaba Madina was much nicer, much brighter, much softer. There would be no answers there. A war born had not been born there. No, it was within this melting pot of greed and sadism that a greater conflict had been wrought. Io took it all in. This was where the origin must be. Now, to find i-

A bottle shattered against the back of their head, lukewarm alcohol spilling over their head.

Behind him, a muscled human, a prior target of observation, shouted incoherently at Io, still brandish the weapon, now much more lethal with a dozen jagged points. Io watched him, recording the stream of slurred words into their personal storage without decrypting it. Their Abacus Circuitry spun meaninglessly, feeding garbage statistics to their Logic Circuits, before Io calmly shut them down, and decided to refrain from action.

They’ve judged the man an example of irrational violence: willing to inflict it, but unable to inflict it.

Moments later, Io was proven correct.

A sickening crunch resounded through the alleyways of the Dark District as the man broke three fingers against the Sentry’s slim nose. He howled and screamed, the tantrum of an undeveloped adult, as Io continued to stare, recording his expressions for posterity.


And she danced on.

Pinpricks of pain popped up all over her body as the Knight of Rose weaved through the dancefloor, her Patron’s warnings and her own instinct allowing her to continue the deadly waltz with a Horror. Rusted petals burst with each bound, each twist, her body contorting with acrobatic grace as powerful beams grazed her skin-tight outfit, millimeters away from causing a burn. Controlled yet frenetic, she continued to evade and deflect, lasers repelled over and over again by the indestructible blade in her hand. Leaping upwards, Amaryllis kicked off a tentacle rushing towards her, pulverizing it under her sharpened heels as she soared through the air. Heat bloomed behind her back an eye opening up on the ceiling to snipe her, but that was within her expectations as well.

It was surprisingly easy to imagine where attacks would be heading, after all, when she was surrounded and targeted.

Tucking her legs in and swinging her rapier down her back, Amaryllis curled up, another beam reflected into another eye. Three tentacles rose to skewer her in all directions, but before they could strike into her pale flesh, a silver ivy erupted from Soth’s eye and the buxom girl took hold, pulling her out of harm’s way. She spiralled towards the mass of monstrosities reaching out before her and used them as further footholds, evading volleys of energy beams as she sliced through the fleshy appendages that sought to smash her to bits. Silver coated the wounds she left, chains sprouting out of them to restrain the damaged tentacles. Temporary reprieve, but every slight advantage mattered. She hooked her foot upon one of the taut ivy-chains and slingshot herself upwards, landing against ceiling as her shoes cracked against the stone.

The eyes turned to face her, but Amaryllis was one step faster, a flurry of blows and a gravity-defying dash slicing through more of Soth’s eyes before they could unleash their rays of destruction.

Blood and other fluids rained down below, splattering upon roses that spread like umbrellas.

She somersaulted off the ceiling, reached for another silver chain, and continued her onslaught, a three-dimensional dance punctuated by the meat of the Greater Horror falling to pieces seconds after she passed by.

Soth was still amused.

Amaryllis was still calm.

And they danced on.


As Invaders broke out of the waters, their weapons heating up with an incandescent glow, Tian-Gui moved immediately. A streak of white and gold through the lightning-lit night, the armored Striker immediately interposed himself between the first pack of invaders and his teammates, crossing his arms over his chest. With a searing roar, the lasers struck him full-on, driving him back a couple of steps. But Tian-Gui was indomitable, and Final Red was, by nature, designed to eat up laser beams for breakfast. Energy surged, no, flooded through his armor as golden plates glowed like the sun itself.

“Uooooooooooohhh!”

Bolts of lightning crackled around him, his heart beating like an engine, his blue eyes flashing bright even through the orange light of the energy beams.
“FLAMESTONE BEACON!”

Streaks of gold spiderwebbed through the ground, Tian-Gui at the epicenter. Stretching out all around their immediate vicinity, the web of Flamestone served to dramatically increase his ‘territory’. From there, pillars of Flamestone burst up, and Tian-Gui channeled all his gathered energy into them next, each pillar bursting into bright flames that exposed the fiendish Invaders who scuttled about in the dark storm.

Lesser fire may be quenched by the abominable night, but the flames of justice that surged within his body shall never be extinguished!

“Strikers, take em out! I alone are sufficient to protect the rest!”
You've grown weak, Burger. You coulda made Thoth a thot.
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