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Darkest Before the Dawn: A CYOA Magical Girl Roleplay [Completed]

It's up to you. Just @ me when you make any changes, if you do.

Darkest Before the Dawn: A CYOA Magical Girl Roleplay [Completed]

@Majoras EndEyo, so my original idea was to let Eliza react first to the contents of her Scrying before adding, but if you'd prefer it, I can just post for Fine first anyways.

Lostman Graffiti

Northwestern District

Though neither Fumiko nor Aya were paragons of physical prowess, the child that they hefted up by armpits and legs was light enough that the two university students had little problem. It was a bit problematic, of course, when Fumiko remembered that the door to Spice Tea opened outwards rather than inwards, but someone else opened the door for them, letting the two inside the tea shop. The highschool boy, all gangly limbs and freckled face, smiled weirdly at the trio, and then turned his gaze back to Rie, who smiled even as she rinsed a towel in cold water.

“Euhuehuehue…” came the teenager’s creepy laugh. He retreated back to his own seat at the counter; the door, as it swung back into place, smacked into Fumiko.

Still, that didn’t cause any particular trouble to either of the child-carriers. They laid her down upon a sofa, resting the auburn-haired girl’s head on one of the arms. Upon closer inspection now, her eyes were heavily-bagged and her skin was pale in such a way that couldn’t just be from lack of sun. Sleep deprivation, perhaps? Regardless, it was evident to both women that this particular kid hadn’t collapsed merely from heat exhaustion...for better or worse, at least.

Time passed, with Rie bringing over glasses of water for all three of them, as well as a damp towel to place over the child’s forehead. Her breathing levelled out soon, and after a while, it became clear that she was simply...asleep. The fatigue may have gotten her before the heat did. As Fumiko and Aya enjoyed their own respite in the teashop, the door to Spice Tea opened once more. A man, perhaps in his mid-thirties, strode in. He wore black slacks and a white collared shirt, his hair recently shaved as if in anticipation for the season. Fleshy-faced, a frantic expression was on his face as he scanned the small shop, practically passing up Rie and Fumiko completely before letting out a sigh of relief as his gaze settled on the sleeping child.

“Oh thank the gods,” the man exalted, clapping his hands together in a moment of heavenward gratitude. Walking up towards the two university students, he knelt before the sofa, as if confirming with his own eyes the state of the child. Satisfied after a moment of inspection, he turned towards the two. “I can’t thank you two enough! Suzuha, she just up and ran away, and I wasn’t able to catch up and then didn’t know where she oh she’s always been so sickly too and if she just fell where no one could see her, ugh!”

He clamped his hand over his mouth, ceasing his rambling immediately, and took a deep breath.

“Where are my manners? I’m Gotou Matsumaru, and Suzuha here’s my niece. You two are?”

Southern District

“Huh?”

The punk blinked as Otoya was sent reeling back from his punch. It felt like punching a...piece of beef, really. Was this university student really just all talk? Wait, no...was he really just that strong? In an instant, memories flooded past, of all the times his upperclassmen shat on him just for being younger than him, of all the times he grit his teeth and clenched his fists, but was too afraid to try because they were all bigger and older than him.

Could it be, that he was the one that was The Strong?

“Ha...hahaha! Fucking dumbass! What did I tell ya? Don’t mess with the West Park Bois!” Crew Cut laughed anxiously, heart pounding a million miles an hour, his knuckles still stinging from where it glanced against the spray can. With the pretty boy down, he aimed blow after blow upon him, alternating between stomps and kicks with gleeful vengeance.

“Yeah! Mess him up, bro!” Slick Hair cheered as well, fist pumping up aggressively. “Beat in his face till his mother won’t even recog- BWUH?!”

An impact struck the slick-haired teen on the side of the jaw, cracking his head away. Skittering to the ground was a black object, rectangular in shape. A rock? A shuriken? No...it was a cellphone! Crew Cut wheeled about, his eyes narrowed against the silhouette that strode towards them in broad daylight.

Bold black eyebrows. Black hair, coiffed in a way that it was ruffled even on a windless day. Eyes, dark and proud, shining with the unmistakable light of JUSTICE.

“Evildoers quake! My power surges, my soul roars! In the light of the Sun, your fates are decided! HENSHIN!” Tossing his black leather jacket into the azure above to expose his padded, yellow-streaked motorcycle suit underneath, the man rushed for Crew Cut, who growled once more with berserking ferocity. The thug leapt over Otoya and rushed for the stranger, rearing his fist back for a mighty blow!

But even the most powerful of fists could not compete with the Diver Kick! Leaping into action, the mysterious warrior of love and justice twisted his body like a corkscrew as his feet planted against the thug’s chest, sending him skidding against the scalding concrete. Slick Hair cried out, but rushed for the prone warrior, his own foot drawn back for mighty soccer kick into the gut. An impact resounded heavily, but there was no satisfaction there; the hero’s armor held strong, repelling the blow! Pushing the slick-haired bastard’s foot back, the suited man sprung up to his feet again, fists springing out into a flurry of blows. Jab, jab, cross, straight, hook. Five strikes struck true, and the skinny thug fell back, stunned and bruised.

“GRAHHH!”

Crew Cut recovered again, enraged. His brain boiled from the pain and the summer heat, his lungs heaved madly, and adrenaline raced through his veins like cocaine injections! He was The Strong! His fist could lay out university students in a single blow! And with that bumblebee bastard’s back exposed, there was no wa-

“The laws of victory has been decided.”

-y he could lose! Like a smith bringing down their hammer upon molten steel, Crew Cut swung for the back of the man’s head with everything he ha-

“Farewell. Hornet Sting!”

The hero’s heel slammed into Crew Cut’s solar plexus, folding him in half and sending him flying. Perfect timing, perfect technique, perfect strength. A single blow to decide the fight. The bulky thug fell to the ground again, and this time, he could only wheeze, unable to get up. Their ‘leader’, one of his eyes still squinted from the paint sprayed upon his face, finally stood up, and with the help of Slick Hair, got Crew Cut up. They hobbled away in shame, but not before he spat out, “We’ll remember this! Watch your backs!”

The sun continued to beat. With the adversaries gone, the man retrieved his jacket once more. “Deactivate,” he muttered, before zipping his jacket over his suit. He walked over to Mitsuo, crouching beside him. “You alright? I’ve got band-aids and such, but if they knocked a tooth loose or something, it’s outta my area of expertise. I’m sorry I was unable to do anything for your cat.”

Eastern District

“Going once, going twice, sold! To the honorable Master Yoshio Takemori for 5500 yen!”

Varying sounds of disappointment and congratulations sounded through the crowd as the gentleman with the megaphone, flanked by his two, assumed, granddaughters, cut through the crowd to take his five eels. For the occasion, they were placed in a sandalwood box, chunks of ice cubes separating the eels from each other, and with utmost ceremony, the transaction was done.

And of course, once one transaction finished, another began. Flourishing his blades, Captain Belo hummed a chipper tune as he descaled and hacked the snappers into manageable sizes. Even without weighing them properly, he had a precise sense of just how hefty each individual slab of fish meat was. Within twenty seconds of blindingly fast work, Iwao was 3600 yen poorer, but three pounds of fish richer, a plastic bag of fish and ice in his hands.

“Thank you for your business~ Shall I be expecting you Tuesday, or will that be Aya’s turn?”

Central District

Hiroyuki smiled when Sayuri returned to the table. “Thanks for doing that for me, Sa-chan,” he said, reaching over to brush a strand of hair out of her face. “Appreciate it.”

With that, he leaned back, slotting his phone back into his pockets. “Feel like I slept alright myself,” he commented, picking small clumps of rice out of the bowl. “Only gonna get hotter though; look into getting another set of covers, will you? So there’s not two of us warming it up.”

He finished eating soon after, placing the bowl of half-finished rice down as he stood up. Checking his watch, the man nodded to himself. “I’ve got someone to meet now, Sa-chan. Don’t worry ‘bout making dinner for me, yeah? I don’t imagine I’ll be back till late.”

From Oubliette to Oublioth [R.I.P]

Personally, I'm just chilling here and intending on Cecilia to get going once they've all introduced themselves. So probably no need for intervention?

Darkest Before the Dawn: A CYOA Magical Girl Roleplay [Completed]

_@Vocab

The gothic girl did not remove any of the documents from the folder. Rather, it went into her matchbox in a smooth movement, almost as if the file itself shrunk to match the small opening. A moment later, her gray eyes flashed, and she nodded. From that same matchbox came a seamless cube, its coloration swirling from purple to blue and then back again. There was a light hum emanating from it, nigh imperceptible in the rumbling of the amplifiers outside the room, and in Dolly's hand, it floated inches from her palm, gently rotating as if it floated upon the ocean's surface.

"The receptacle," she said. She tapped her finger against its surface, and it hovered over to Eden. There was something warm, moist about the object; though its surface was hard and did not give, if the Boss of the Penrose Independent were to press her hand against it, she would still feel her flesh sinking into something soft, no matter what her eyes told her.

The second item that was withdrawn from the matchbox was a hexagonal rod of the same shifting hue as the box. This one exhibited no anomalous properties compared to the receptacle, and Dolly physically passed it over to Eden instead. "The key. Per prior instructions, establish magical connections with the receptacle, press the key into the receptacle, grip the receptacle tightly, and envisioning the magic you wish to cast utilizing the magical energy you have gathered. Safety restrictions require a thirty second charge time, but you may shorten that to ten seconds by exclaiming 'Popipa pipopa popipapapipopa' and jumping upwards while raising the receptacle above you."

She slid her matchbox back into the folds of her dress, before placing her hands over her stomach.

"Al Sharpe will contact you following the end of the rave for future payment details, as per the contract. Do you have any other questions or requests?"

_{@BrokenPromise@PlatinumSkink}

“If the stars align and the heavens stand with us, we won’t require reinforcements,” Amaryllis replied, inspecting the sheen of her Sword in the moonlight. But that was doubtful, and it would be disappointingly pleasant too. Her Sword wanted blood, and in a way, Amaryllis did too. For once, Wielder and Weapon were alike in their desire for violence.

But this wasn’t revenge. If they could get Sammy out without slaying any others, that would be for the best. For the best…

“Evening, Mariette,” Amaryllis tilted her head in the direction of the Mirror Sage, a half-surprised smile on her face when she brought a cat with her, rather than her Bunny. “I’ve no complex thoughts on the matter myself. Though it is regrettable that the perpetrator was merely a pawn, it is similarly expected. Our goal remain the same, though now our enemies are likely to expect our arrival.”

The Knight of Rose caught a petal with the tip of her finger, then flicked it off into the winter wind.

“Either we strike with vengeful immediacy, discombobulating their defenses and preparations with shock and awe and precisely extract the Super Sleuth in the chaos of our arrival, or we slip in with the Mirror Sage’s assistance, avoiding detection in the corona of the Rave’s magical density, and perform our operation subtly. I lean towards these two extremes; half-measures seem insufficient for the quest we aspire to accomplish.”

Arknights - Project Neptune

Thrones let out a breath, slow and steady. The buzzing in the back of her mind did not cease, the whispers continued unabated, but at the very least, the simulation allowed her to feel the warmth of the Originium in her blood. How much of it was real, how much of it was fake? The Sankta followed the others, wondering what her body was doing back in reality.

Hopefully nothing embarrassing.

And hopefully, they didn't embarrass themselves by getting wiped against this group either. Twenty androids, supported by five armored units and two that looked like Arts Drones. Something in the air as well, something dampening her connection with her blood. Thrones grimaced, rolling her shoulders as her glass-like wings twitched. "Showed off too much, I suppose," she said, turning to the others. "Strix, what's your range against immobile targets? I can lock down the Arts Droids if you can snipe them."

Wouldn't be flattening the group this time though.

From Oubliette to Oublioth [R.I.P]

“Well, wouldn’t say that we make all this permanent, but…”

Cecilia’s eyes flickered up and down Annabelle’s body. She may have been scandalously underdressed, but her complexion was smooth despite no obvious signs of powders, creams or illusion magics, while the combination of black hair and red eyes gave a bit of a gothic edge to the woman. With some work, her interesting looks and somber personality could pull off a look that Cecilia couldn’t, hm?

Then Locke said something dark and vengeful. Right, he also had that sort of look, didn’t he? They’d make a good pair, for sure. Vengeful mask-count man and his lady, the demon-summoning sword-mistress. How romantic~

“Don’t worry about money too much,” Cecilia waved, offering another cookie to Annabelle, “Not like we can do much in terms of shopping until after we get out of here…but once we do, you must go shopping with us. Alright? Entrance fee for joining the winner's group and all."

A blink. Ah, there was the invisible boy that caused so much trouble and that Locke wanted to strangle.

“What’s your names anyways? I’m Cecilia, by the way. Cecilia Tonitrus. That’s Artemisia, and down there, lying down, is Locke.”

Lostman Graffiti

Northern District

“Some Tamiko kid,” came the blonde’s response, swirling her spoon around the base of her drink. She pulled it out, more of that vanilla-melon froth clinging to it, before licking it off. Her cheeks tightened briefly, then settled back into self-indulgent contentment. “Went missing yesterday. On the way home.”

She tilted her head to the side, scrutinizing Mochizuki. “You’re from Hinata, aren’tcha? Just here for the A/C?”

Southern District

Crew Cut’s face colored, blooming like a ripened tomato. It was a bad day for a fight, hot enough that even hot tempers were turned to mush, but a flash in the pan was still possible, and as Otoya’s words spilled out of his mouth, the thug growled with the ferocity of a pitbull.

“You’re fucking dead!”

Swinging his free hand back (and almost smacking his buddy in the face), he put all his strength into a wild haymaker that went right for the pretty boy’s jaw.

Eastern District

The city kid looked back at Iwao, and then smirked. With the relish of someone who certainly had more money than this sandy-haired twit, he called out, “42-”

“4200!” A pudgy-faced housewife raised up her hand, a bit of briny water speckling out from her wet palms.

An elderly gentleman in a three-piece tweed suit pulled out his megaphone. Static crackled as his voice resounded. “4300!”

Not to be outdone, a freshman from Hijirido, one of the ones lucky enough to score one of those proper co-ed sharehouses, raised up his hand, clutching a fistful of bills. “4500!”

And just like that, the auction was off to a frenzy, half the people not even totally certain what was being auctioned anyways. In the center of the maelstrom, Captain Belo smiled apologetically at Iwao, before thrusting out his glistening chest, filling his lungs with air, and letting out the practiced chant of an expert auctioneer.

There were rumors, after all, of the good captain having been an expert in black market auctioneering, dealing in ‘misplaced’ antiques and ‘naturally killed’ exotic species.

“Hellohellofiveeelsfor45004500doIhave46004600?Ohtothegentlemantotheright47004700anythinghigheranyonewannatherewegotothewomaninthatbeautifuldressthankyouverymuchnowwheredowegofiveglisteningeelsperfectforvirilityskincareandbarebequefiveeelstherewego4800totheladywiththesunhat-”

As he called out, he scribbled something down on his notepad, ripping off the sheet, folding it, and slipping into Iwao’s hands.

Red Snapper 1200¥/lb

Central District

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

Properly dressed and freshened up, Hiroyuki strode over, in slacks, a collared shirt, and a cardigan. Hot weather was no excuse to dress like a slob, after all. Adjusting his Seiko, he sat down, eyes flickering briefly towards the sheen upon the floor, the smeared yolk that glistened in the afternoon sun.

The corner of his lips twitched.

“Didn’t I tell you to deal with that? What will the others think, if they had to clean up a mess left by a freeloader?”

He shook his head with a sigh and began to eat, one hand flicking through his social media feed, hardly looking at Sayuri. A child could make a dish as simple as this, and yet the rice was still dry and stiff, as if too little water was used. Disappointing, but expected.

“Where’s the others anyhow?”

Darkest Before the Dawn: A CYOA Magical Girl Roleplay [Completed]

_@Vocab

In the back rooms of the warehouse, segregated from the rest of the party area, the aggressive bass was somewhat subdued. Only the occasional drop would rattled one's organs, and the chatter of dozens of corrupted magical girls gradated into a meaningless veil of noise, nothing distinct enough to make sense of. The preparations for 'receiving' the Ascendancy was already in place; now, all that was needed was the receptacle.

And soon, even that wasn't a problem.

A flickering of the bulbs, a brief moment of darkness, and a girl appeared, her coloration monochrome, her dress gothic. In her hands, she held nothing, and with an unwavering gaze, she regarded Eden. "Your product is created," came Dolly's voice. "The blueprints are, too?"

They certainly weren't being stealthy about it, huh?

Was also rather awkward, that they would host it in the same area as that other warehouse.

Atop a building overlooking the warehouse that the Dark Rave (Dark Magical Rave? Evil Rave?) took place in, the Knight of Rose watched, her Sword needling provocations into the back of her lungs. Tonight, at least, the monsters would be occupied. Her body desired rest, but still, a rejuvenating sleep eluded her every night. There was always a monster to kill, always a plot to foil. The Mint, the Ascendancy, Veronica's cadre, Beacon's misfortunes, and the fifty or more corrupted individuals beholden to no organization at all. The barrier too, still eluded restoration, teasing at the ends of her magical energy like a child reflexively eating whatever was placed before them. She let out a sigh, hugging her knees against her chest. A war. A proper, bloody war, featuring enough individuals that Penrose's landscape could be changed in a single instant.

Was she ready? Her Sword always was, but she, no matter her vows, wasn't.

With a shunt, her backpack popped into her hand, and Amaryllis retrieved a flask of warm soup, as well as the oils, cloths, and whetstones that her Sword enjoyed so very much. She wasn't one for dressing up, but her Silverlight may as well be in tip-top shape before everything went to hell.

Sharpening silver and sipping soup, Wielder and Sword enjoyed the beauty of the winter moon and the tranquility of solitude, as magical girls continued to congregate under the night sky.

Where there was trouble, there was Lei Zi, and in this case, she was looking out for trouble of the 'drunk magical girls' type. Against their better judgment, whoever organized the rave had decided to bring in alcoholic drinks for a crowd that definitely couldn't be checked up. Already, there were corrupted girls getting shit-faced and going absolute bonkers; those cages were particularly distasteful, reminding the priestess of all those trafficking dens she used to bust back in Macau. She sighed, pulling her robes closer around her, even as the temperature in the basement continued to rise. How many of these magical girls were middle aged men, stalking about in search of an indecent time? How many of these magical girls were literal children, too dumb and naive to know exactly how vulnerable they were? The lightning-eyed priestess could see security going around, of course, but it was obvious that they were focused outwards rather than inwards.

Didn't take a genius to figure that the Ascendancy was going to try something out.

She leaned against the back wall, sipping from a Dixie cup. A storm was brewing, and unfortunately for her, Tian Rong always did like pointing her towards the center of such storms.

_{@Majoras End}

After cleaning up that Tree Horror infesting the Overcity, Fine wanted a drink. No, fuck that, she didn't just want a drink, she wanted to sample a dozen different cocktails and then end the night in the arms of a red-haired babe after two intense hours of love-making. A rave wasn't the best way to achieve the latter, of course, but considering how the human side of Penrose was still evacuated and the magical side of Penrose was wholly concentrated, this was her best bet, huh?

...

Sucked that the whole city went to shit in the last couple of months. Sucked even more when she visited a couple months ago, only to find out that Cassie got purified and turned into a total prude. No handholding until marriage; that whole package. Brought a frown to her face, really. Fine let out a hiss as she settled into the bar stool, a cigarette in one hand and a flute of champagne in the other. Could've always called up one of her co-workers to hang with, instead of risk getting caught in the Ascendancy's crossfire, but if things got too intimate...yeah, there was no timeline where she would risk a co-worker relationship after that time with Jyu-Ni.

Enough reminiscing. The handsome lady took a sip of her champagne, before her rubellite eyes slid upon a prospect. Wavy, blonde hair and skin as pale as snow, with a mystic artifact in her hands and a friend that just left to go after someone else.

"Hey there," Fine said, sliding over with a lop-sided smile. "Not much of a seer myself, but I can see myself in your future, darling. What's your name?"

_@Ponn

Askefye was accustomed to loneliness, especially after the Ascendancy came and started their war on the residents of Penrose. But even firecrackers like her occasionally wanted to let loose in a group and with winter slowly warming up into spring, the red-haired monster girl definitely wasn't going to pass up on a chance to just have fun. Yeah, fuck the Ascendancy! Fuck Beacon! Fuck all the organizations that went around trying to control magical society!

Flames spontaneously burst out of her ethereal form, lukewarm enough to not cause damage, but warm enough to heat up the already riled up crowd. Others were going berserk too, the aggressive music drawing everyone into riot. A drake-girl soared the ceiling, iridescent scales lighting up like a disco ball. A dark magical girl screamed out with a megaphone, popping the eardrums of everyone within five meters of her. Lightning, wind, ice all crackled out. A rave, especially when meant for magical girls, was always just one step away from blowing everything up, after all! Amongst the crowd, the ash-born child laughed, sparks dancing as her ethereal body pulsated with the destructive rhythm.

Didn't matter if the only person interested in her was the Mint; in a dance party, you could feel part of the group without even knowing any of them!

Another plume of flame surged out of Askefye, and a magical girl could only fire off so many shots before they hit someone. As Connie and Mia navigated the increasingly frenetic rave, a brilliant burst of fire blanketed them, comforting heat enveloping the two for an instant before fading into a myriad of sparks.

While those magical girls partied, Liss had trained in the way of the fist, and like that, years had passed by, each defeat getting closer and closer as she became accustomed to the rhythm of a no-holds brawl. Her hair had been cropped first. Then she got accustomed to wearing what was essentially just a bikini. Somewhere along the way, she pawned her staff off to a shady Puchuu for a pair of padded gloves. Gone was her flabby chest; that just got in the way, and she got firm abs in return. Her boyfriend broke up with her, of course; a relationship that constantly got interrupted by her deaths to the Contender was never going to last, but she didn't mind much. After all, Liss was close now, so close to finally eking out a victory against that burning man! This year would have been the year, if she had simply drawn the lottery to go up first!

...but she didn't. Some no name Trixy won instead, and now there was a full year before Liss could see the fruits of her labor again.

She wasn't mad though, not at all. She was happy, even! She was at this party just to party and have fun and do normal magical girl things, even if it meant fraternizing with magical girls that were definitely evil in one way or the other. It was time to go party hard! Time to celebrate!

"Uggggh," Liss groaned, having already downed seven extra-large mugs of beer, "Why didja have to hic die so fast, Contenderrrrr. I wanted my sniff shot this year tooooo. Waaaagghhhhhhhhhh." Red-faced and definitely not crying at all, the definitely not depressed girl slapped her hand against the counter again, cracking the wood as she sobbed out, "Another r-round! Where's my other round?!"

As proven by a certain lightning genie, even being a Genki Girl didn't stop one from wanting to cry after suffering immense disappointment.

Myria wasn't a thief, nor a scavenger.

She was simply an opportunist, and only dumbasses would attend a powder keg like the rave, anyways.

In the slick Bentley she procured through wholly legal means, Myria drove through the quiet streets of Penrose, the whispers of spirits in her ears, telling her of every little hidey hole in this sad little city. Not every magical girl was gifted with a Hammerspace, after all, and when so many eyes were on the schemes and dreams of dark and light magical girls alike, people like her could run amok with little worry. Someone was bound to start a world-ending ritual. Someone else was bound to try to summon another Horror. Compared to those maniacs, all Myria was doing was...picking up what careless people left unattended, with the intent of returning such precious items...for a price, of course.

Happy times, all around. There were lairs for magical girls everywhere, and plentiful organizations too. May as well enjoy the chaos and come out on top, no?

In the backseat of her car, her manservant rapped about how she had money in the bank, and that pimping wasn't easy. Didn't look like that was one of his skills, sadly; he was getting tongue-tied on the faster phrases. But that was cute too. She liked to see handsome men flustered.

From Oubliette to Oublioth [R.I.P]

Wow. Didn't know we were gonna go doujin that fast.