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In Arkus Academy → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Katthaj
Okey doke, just a few things: so since all the player characters are incoming first years, they probably wouldn't have any S-rank stats yet. S-ranks are rare, and usually reserved for experts.


Just dropping this here to save Drowsy the hell that is having to repeat this statement with almost every CS that comes in. XD
In Arkus Academy → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Kress blinked at the sudden change in her expression, amethyst eyes widening at the flash of…hostility? Enmity? He peered with no small amount of curiosity at the crest that she showed, but if he recognized it, he gave no indication. A more well-read person may have connected the dots that lead this young witch to Arkus Academy, but Kress remained uncertain what exactly that was supposed to mean. State Iron Works? So…she was someone working in the ship?

So rather than mull in his perpetual confusion, Kress did what any reasonable young person with an excess of confidence and curiosity did: he asked a question.

“Yeah, I am!” he beamed, sticking out a hand to shake, “Kress Alstein, at your service. Sorry ‘bout that bit of faux pas, by the by. Figured all the students would be at the observation deck, really, and you looked like you belonged here as an apprentice or somethin’.” Kress took a breath from his rambling, before stuffing his tome back into the folds of his clothing as well, sticking the pen above his ear. “By the way, I don’t really recognize that crest, actually, so could you be so kind as to enlighten me to its meaning, miss? With something like ‘Iron Works’, I’d thought you were already working.”

Another grin, vibrant eyes catching the large wrench.

"With a tool like that, you certainly look the part."
In Beyond the Looking Glass: A CYOA Magical Girl Roleplay [Completed] → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


When it ended, there was nothing but a baptism of blood, accompanied by the scrap metal rain.

Nothing remained of the monster that lurked within the crypt, nothing but errant flesh, dying off as silver consumed it. The last rusted petals fell upon the desecrated earth and dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the sanguine Knight of Rose, foul blood covering every inch of her body. She faced the sky, eyes closed, as her sword, for once, was silent.

It was over. It was dead.

She was dead.

And like this, Amaryllis found it harder and harder to pretend. It was tiring. The weight of the world was heavy, and every time, it seemed as if what she did wasn’t enough. They always slipped through her fingers like sand, the lives of those she’d sought to protect. What was the point of talking about the future? What was the point of sparing her to begin with? What was the point of all this, and of none of this? She was never late, but she never stuck the landing. She was never weak, but she never was enough.

Always confident till the end, only to be left with irreconcilable regrets.

Your wish is my command.

And then, the connection was cut. The clover vanished. Their bond was no more.

…

The Sword scraped against her back, reminding her that there was someone else nearing and, with a slight narrowing of her eyes, the Knight of Rose turned to face them. The Seraph bearing the Star Bow, her own countenance unsatisfied too with the turn of events. Regina escaped, didn’t she? Another burden then. So many burdens, like stones placed onto her stomach, as she sank and sank and sank…

Amaryllis wiped her bloodied hand on her equally bloodied shorts, before shaking the offered hand. “Amaryllis Evenings,” she returned, only a trace of pretense remaining, “She’s dead, you know? Annabelle.” Her voice caught in her throat. Murderous rage wrestled with inexplicable grief. “I don’t like it. We always save the world, but my hands never reach the one that called out for help to begin with.”

A bitter, pained smile creased her features.

“I won’t ever like this.”

There was a sense of finality there, as she cleaned her Silverlight until the surface became mirrored once more. Nodding once more at Alicia, who had already headed off to deal with the newcomers, Amaryllis glanced casually towards the maid, wondering whether to behead her immediately, just out of spite. The scent, distorted as it was, remained a constant. Soth, one way or the other, still ended up getting what they wanted. Annabelle, on the other hand, had nothing now, all her dreams and hopes and wishes and desires dying with her final efforts.

Amaryllis’s right hand trembled at this injustice. The rage exponentiated. It'd only take an instant.

But even though her Sword may lust eternally for blood, the Knight of Rose remained pitifully lenient. If an eternity of servitude could grant this monster absolution, then she will let Beacon do as they desired. She took a sharp breath, and walked out of the crypt, dipping down to graze the cats that flowed in. Sammy was easy enough to find, the only one that didn’t belong. The one that had to bear witness to all this.

Kneeling down beside her, Amaryllis nodded slightly in Aurelio’s direction, before putting her full attention on the younger girl. Every part of her felt like scattering into bits, but if it was just a mask, she could put it on just fine. “Hey there, Super Sleuth,” Amaryllis smiled, brushing her tears away with her thumb, only to leave bloody streaks behind, “It’s been a rough day, huh? Can you tell me what’s got you feeling so down?”

And then, impulsively, she hugged Sammy.

Disgusting.

She hated how weak she was.

"I'm sorry. I'll do all that I can to make things better."
@Flamelord@BrokenPromise
In Talrae Reborn → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Perhaps it was better for them, that the environment gave them all so much to worry about. As the sudden storm bore down upon them, a thousand pings ringing harshly in her ears, Cecilia let out a breath, turning her face upwards, fat, heavy droplets splattering against her face and washing away the sweat and the grime that had built up from six hours of continous combat. It was exhausting now, but at least it was over. Lightning fell, striking the ground rather than one of the many dark buildings in the city, a warning shot by the heavens for the disorderly mass of adventurers to disperse.

What did she want right now? A bath, for one. Then hot food, for another.

What did she need right now? More Potions, for one. Then the level 15 actions, for another.

She was at full HP and MP from the level up. The Chilled debuff may be a problem later, but she was still fast regardless. Enjoying the cold rain and roaring wind for just a while longer, Cecilia pressed herself against a building before quickly changing outfits, pulling on her travelling boots and her raincoat. Would have been nice if she had time to sew her wolf pelts together into something to keep the chill out, but whatever. This was a new environment, and these rough conditions, in a town that offered shelter everywhere, provided the perfect oppurtunity to acclimate. With the majority of other players heading immediately to the Inn, there'd be no line ups either. And even if it turns out her trip was wasted due to those facilities being closed, it mattered not.

Cecilia knew that the moment she checked in at a tavern, she'd be spending the rest of the night sleeping, even though she was maxed out on all important resources. If there was anything that could be done today rather than tomorrow, it would be a net benefit.

So she pushed out the alleyway and into the storm again, hood pulled over her head, marching resolutely to the shadow of the largest building in the vicinity.

She needed to be faster, still.
In Warped Earth, Twisted Air (An Urban Fantasy Dungeon Crawler RP) — Now Open! → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


While the others drew odd looks for their curiously low-brow outfits, such oddities were soon alleviated by the presence of the young man who had lead them to the lavish restaurant to begin with. Even in his own casual clothing, which consisted of a custom-tailored collared shirt and trousers that combined was probably equal to the amount of debt one of his teammates carried, Albrecht Dietrich was still instantly recognizable from a distance, his coiffed blond hair and magnanimous smile ever present, a handsome mask that hid the terribly powerful business acumen underneath. At a mere nineteen years old, he had already made himself known as one of the sharpest angel investors in the business world, specializing in the very rifts that he himself delved into. Accruing billions from the dozens of businesses he invested early in, there were many that thought his true attribute was Alchemy: anything he touched became pure gold.

Which was basically all lost upon Albrecht, as he dual-wielded lamb skewers like a mongoloid, enjoying the rich textures and the savory juices that accompanied each bite, followed by the numbing, tingling aftertaste of the spice. Though the rate in which food came was relatively slow, there was still never a moment where the table was wholly empty, and he really did have to praise the flexibility of the staff in the kitchen. A la carte must be a pain for them to deal with, after all, but they were pulling it off pretty well!

Maybe he’ll tip them double the value of the bill.

“Right, right,” Albrecht said, washing down the lamb with a glass of goat’s milk, “To confirm again, we all know what we’re here for, yes? Largely gonna be a debut run for Alice over there to see how well she can perform in a Rift, so as much as possible, we’ll let her have the first go at any obstacle we encounter. Scouts reported that we’ll be in a graveyard area, so as far as precaution goes, I’ve prepared headlamps and gas masks, as well as general first aid kits. Hm, anything else…right. Pretty sure y’all know me, but let’s get a proper set of introductions here, eh? With the whole Attributes n stuff tacked on.”

He coughed once, clearing his throat for no reason other than to just signal the start, before saying, “I’m Albrecht Dietrich, the organizer for this particular job. Got a Fire Element Attribute that lets me set things I touch on fire, but it doesn’t set other things on fire unless I touch those things, so there’s no worry ‘bout it spreading. Pretty safe, ain’t it?”
In Lostman Grafitti → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@banjoanjo@OwO@AdmrlStalfos19@Savo@Asuras

Decided to take matters into my own hands. Segments that may have collabs will have them linked. @ me if you add to it, or if you plan on just solo posting for it. Mana loses 30 bond points with Kouta. The woman calling Marc out looks like this. Imma go back to real work now.

Remember, Sunday is deadline day from now on.
In Lostman Grafitti → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Northwestern District
Mana didn’t say anything more, and Kouta let out a pained smile at her silence. The conversation was over, wasn’t it? He nodded slightly towards the overworked manager, before pocketing his pack of gum.

“Keep it touch, alright?” he repeated once more, to the lethargic convenience store part-timer’s silence again, and then turned around, exiting.

Filtered through the glass doors and lit in the gray morning, the delinquent really did look so much less vibrant than he used to, back in the days where Mana and him were both young and unburdened.

Central District
Outside, it was cloudy but quiet, the sky looming close but promising no rain. There was only a gloomy dampness in the air, a chill brought by a silent wind. As the Okinawan held the door for Miyane, he signalled the others to continue with their own tasks, being the only one to stay behind. Ostensibly, he would remain with the former star, at least until she found it fit to head out of the grounds of Tamagakahara, positioning himself beside the emergency exit.

Miyane’s call was answered after five long rings, the smooth, dulcet voice of Daehyun answering, “<<Morning, Miyane-ssi. Slept well?>>”

In the background, the strumming of guitar strings and the tip-tapping of drumsticks could be heard, as conversation in Japanese, incomprehensible but certainly not inaudible, show back and forth, interspersed by raucous laughter.

Southern District
“Ishiyama Tsurushi, mm?” Yasuo repeated, leaning forward to mark down another couple of numbers in his own sudoku book. “Pretty crazy you’d walk so far down, considering how the psychologists with the actually-rich clients would all be Central, but hey, no judgment.”

He shrugged, smiled, then frowned when it looked like his pen had dried up. Slipping it into his pocket, the handkerchief boy stretched his right hand out, cracking each finger back in a way that was satisfying but also sorta cringe-inducing.

“It’ll probs help,” Yasuo said, after another moment. “Hitsu’s pretty good at her job, after all. Used to be like, super big in the field ‘fore stuff happened and she set up her own practice. And hey, considering her usual clientele…”

The youth trailed off from there, before winking.

“It’ll be fine.”



Was that how he was positioned? One could never be sure, in the end, but neither did it really matter. The inconsistency between how his incorporeal body was positioned and how his corporeal body was positioned was fixed with a quick jerk of movements, wholly awkward but not massively obvious. Marc hadn’t knocked anything over while his body spasmed, after all, and soon enough, he was free to move once more, the sounds of the once-silent live house now resounding brightly through the backstage.

The stage area, far off, was a mecca of noise as people shouted over each other, each handling more tasks than they had hands and feet for. In the rooms reserved for the few bands that had arrived, the tuning of instruments and the vocal exercises of singers all mixing together in a quagmire of noise. Had it always been so loud, or had it just been numbed back when Marc was eavesdropping through the door?

Before he could go through the complex set of maneuvers required to move through all the stage equipment in the back, however, one of the part-timers at Galaxy popped up, a tall woman with short, silver hair and gray eyes. Pale, whether through lack of sleep or natural complexion, she wore a black t-shirt with the Galaxy logo printed upon it, and carried two boxes of miscellaneous junk.

“Oi!” she called out, spotting Marc almost immediately, “Who you with?”

In ✤ Delve ✤ → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Late Morning///Entrance to the Dungeon

“Hurk.” Varanense pitched forward when titanic force smashed into his spine, almost snapping it in half. Turning around, he met Kori’s way-too enthusiastic gaze, and simply felt even more like being a pessimistic twat in response. Castor and Oben were similarly, painfully optimistic, and it honestly hurt a little to see the type of energetic kiddos Varanense was going to be partying with from now on. These were definitely the type to see a Minotaur from a lower level and immediately rush it, huh?

And considering what Dahlia said…well, she might not even stop them if they DID want to run into a Minotaur’s horns. Awesome. This was great. Varanense might not have been a fan of the hardcore grinding training hell that basically marked every day of his life back home, but he also wasn’t looking forward doing, what again? Something so incomprehensibly badass that would even impress the gods. God, why can’t they all just be like Nemesis, perpetually drunk and easily entertained by some random card trick?

“I mean, just saying, but like, I’d rather not do the big dead like that rabbit kid a couple weeks back and die against a Silverback…” He shrugged, vaguely, already trying to come up with ways to impress the gods with his absolutely insane slacking skills, “So maybe we just take it easy? Got a whole year to figure this out n all. Let’s not jump off a cliff immediately, yah?”

Well, considering half his team was already gung ho about it, he could only pray that reality smack their enthusiasm down a notch before they started soloing Monster Rexes.

But, of course, there were no Gods left in heaven to answer such prayers.

Late Morning///Floor 1

Thankfully, no real problems ran up to kick the disorganized party in the teeth. From the back, Varanense followed the others at a leisurely pace, enjoying the relatively peaceful walk. What enemies did appear were swiftly dispatched by the more trigger-happy members of the party, while Penn saved everyone else’s back by carrying the majority of the loot, leaving the dark-skinned archer with relaxed shoulders and a light gait. Honestly, it was more comfortable than expected, having a full frontline fully dedicated to protecting him (and Penn and Dahlia).

Almost made him feel like an aristocrat. Wait, he was one. And now it was beginning to feel a bit stifling. Damn. Good thing there was another threat in the next room. Time to grab himself some breathing space.

Seven dogmen total, all vaguely clumped up. They weren’t the magical type and weren’t armed with weapons, so that was always nice to see. Having pillars to hide behind was an even better thing to see. Unslinging his large crossbow from his back, Varanense slid a bolt out and locked it in, ready to maybe pull the trigger. Or maybe he’ll just watch. That sounded better. Melee weapons didn’t use ammo, after all. Always good to have the warriors do their work.

“Well, y’know the drill-o. Castor, strong lad like you can take em all yourself, yeah?”

And lazy lads like Varanense can just hang by the door entrance and watch the fireworks.
In Arkus Academy → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Money is the true magic.
In Arkus Academy → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


The clanging of the wrench against the engine room floor was simply more background noise to Kress’s ears, the cobalt caster preoccupied with jotting down all the details he could into his tome. Already, he had filled three pages of his tome with sketches of the room, and if he wasn’t so obviously a Cresian celebrity, he might definitely be getting stink-eyed as some sort of corporate spy, so detailed his notes on the glorious engine and pipes and magical circuitry and runic programming was. Indeed, his focus had already grown to the extent that the youth was beginning to forget where he was, and at the tap of his shoulder blade, Kress’s immediate reaction was to say, dismissively but not unkindly, “I’ll have breakfast later, Velora. Just set i-”

Thankfully, he wasn’t so incompetent to not catch himself before the sentence ended, turning around to face the tapper with an apologetic, roguish grin. “Ah, sorry ‘bout that. Force o habit, friend,” Kress said, “You wanted the time, yeah?”

With a smooth motion, he slipped his hand into his vest’s inner pocket to extract a marvel of precision engineering. Connected to a silver chain, the pocketwatch held in Kress’s hand was of gold inlaid with ivory and lapis lazuli carvings. They depicted generations of Alstein greats, a litany of beasts and runes carefully inscribed, and as he popped it open, the chime of runic energies powering up was a delight for deafened ears. Spatial magic shot upwards, an intangible line of energy that stretched up at the speed of light to calculate the position of the sun and the stars, the path of the planet itself as it orbited the great star that blessed the world with light and life, before the information returned and adjusted the clockwork of the pocketwatch to be accurate to the millisecond. Light magic surged out next, a holographic display presenting the time and date in numerals rather than with needles, while further illusions spawned from the display to note the weather outside: crisp and sunny. Everything about it was conceptually excessive and ostentatious, but somehow, in the hand of a boy of noble bearing who thought little to nothing of such toys, it simply seemed…elegant. Painfully, crushingly elegant.

Kress glanced at it for half a second, before snapping it shut once more, sliding it into the folds of his richly-decorated robes. “Basically almost 9,” was his hella generalized response, before slight concern emerged. “Don’t suppose you’re late for your shift, miss?”
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