ERode

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

_{@BrokenPromise@twave@Ariamis@Crusader Lord@Flamelord@FamishedPants@Platinumskink}

Amaryllis tensed for a moment, her own hand on her Sword as she watched Rachel. If the woman had tried to end Sophia’s life, she’d have been one arm short by now. But the restorative magics did their work, and the pirate queen lived, made whole by a punch to the gut.

“You have my thanks,” she spoke, catching the glistening coin. “Twice over.”

Lightning scarred the storm clouds, painting a dire image. Hyun Long had wrapped herself around the Flying Dutchman, the ghostly vessel groaning against the monstrous mass that clung to it. She hungered still, even as her body was riddled with countless wounds. Lightning and light, explosions and lacerations, all marked her form in a way that was pitiful rather than invigorating. They were winning the battle, but against who? Was this monstrous girl the one that terminated the Ascendancy’s raid with a single psychic blast? Her sin was simply that of a corpse-eater, an opportunistic scavenger in a warehouse full of the dead. Just like that fanged girl, so long ago.

They too, had deserved a chance.

Another arrived at the battlefield. Mariette, lit up by her own light magic, seared through the night to further bombard Hyun Long. Her assistance was reassuring against a monster, but now…

“Mariette! Place your trust in me and know that this situation will be resolved soon. The true perpetrator of this tragedy still remains unseen; utilize your efforts towards uncovering their hideaway instead!”

…she no longer wanted Hyun Long to die, even as her Sword rioted against such decisions. Denied again, of the meal that it could partake in? Against a creature that was more monster than human? Unacceptable! Her blood boiled under the phantom’s rage, but Amaryllis held strong, kicking off the ground and grabbing onto the anchor chain that swung in the tempestuous air. She scrambled upwards, closing the gap between herself and Hyun Long until she could clearly see where her humanoid body was.

It was almost funny, how quickly the scales tilted. Moments ago, she had been trying to get away from the hydra-girl, and presently, she was doing the exact opposite. Amaryllis's lips twitched into a slight smile.

Rusted roses bloomed and ivy buds emerged in the air around the Monster Queen, scattered by hot air and storm winds. Amaryllis’s heels clicked against the silvered bulbs as she landed right in front of Hyun Long, her hand resting on, but not grasping, her Sword. She breathed. In once. Out once.

“Do you hunger, Queen of Monsters?”

Her blood roared for blood, her Patron demanding tribute, demanding slaughter.

“Your mutations can no longer be overlooked, and Beacon will strive to cut you down, even if your sins are minor. Merely desecration of the dead, merely self-defence when attacked by others. But even though Horrors are just Horrors, every magical girl deserves a chance. To change, perhaps, or to atone. If you wish to stay who you are, even in death and resurrection, then refuse.”

Amaryllis reached out with her hand, opening her palm merely a foot away from Hyun Long.

“But if you wish to start over, to quell this hunger within you, then take this Coin. Use it. And grant yourself the opportunity to go down another path.”

The White Coin pulsated gently in the night and firelight.

“Do so, and I swear upon my Sword that none here will seek your death."

World Beyond the Lexicon

_{@Chezka@samakama@Matsuri@Relin}

Amongst the battered and the broken and the bruised, Kress was slightly confused as to why so many people came out of the battle looking like they've been run over by a horse. Was Professor Nyx's statement of how the 'test will help me determine the level of control you have with your mana in a combat scenario' really all that was needed for people to try to kill each other? The blue-haired youth frowned, his brow scrunched up in a vaguely unhappy manner. This definitely coulda gone poorly, huh? What would he have been forced to do if he hadn't been put up against the two most reasonable people in the class?

Probably something he'd regret. If the whole school term in Class C was like that, that was all the more reason to work hard enough to get out of it, right? Or maybe this was the norm for Avalice, what with its 5% graduation rate.

Kress shook his head, slapped some sense into his cheeks. He made it for another day. He should enjoy it. As a matter of fact, now that classes were over and the sun didn't look as if it was setting yet, it was just about time t-

"Today's been tiring for everyone; sorry, but it looks like we'll have to go see the arcane painters another day. Have a good evening."

Ah. Ahahaha. Yeah. Ok.

"Don't worry, s'all good. Tomorrow for sure then? Oh, and Yvaine! Misaiya, me, and Ankaa, the big woman over there, were thinking of checking out the Arcane Paints Club today! Obviously, we're postponing it now, but you should come with! Think it'll be cool to get a group painting and all." The spellsong was already leaving though, so Kress settled for energetically waving instead. Magical studies, and the promise of an outing. Maybe on a holiday, they could even go out clothes shopping in the metropolis of human civilization? Things to look forward to, for sure. The blue-haired youth made a conscious effort to think about happy things, and stepped off in search for his own dorm room. Another thing to look forward to, meeting his new roommates. Who definitely existed, because it'd be pretty sad if they didn't.

Kress pumped a fist as he neared Dorm C-C, hearing (un)friendly voices inside. That meant there were at least two who made the selection!

Swinging open the door, he waved at the two who were already in the process of getting their things together. The atmosphere felt a bit tense, and if he recalled properly, those two were totally lashing each other with their tongues during the morning but...first impressions didn't mean much. "Good evening," he chirped. "Mr. Varen and Lady Blumenthal, right? I'm Kress, nice to meetcha. Hope we all get along for the short amount of time we're here!"

World Beyond the Lexicon

So...we're actually just the garbos who stayed in Class C, rather than being gifted the opportunity to leave it. Welp.

WitchBlood

Mmm, after some thinking, I won't be joining after all. Best of luck y'all.

Arknights - Project Neptune

Thrones grunted in Vlad's direction, willing the buzz of her brain to go away. Tech companies always liked to do their tests, huh? Made some sense at least. It'd be a nightmare to handle real-life simulations involving squads of machinegunners and casters capable of leveling buildings. Just a little blood too. She pulled out a packet of tissues from her pockets, jamming a couple sheets up her nose.

"Understandable," the Sankta spoke, jamming her hands into her pockets once more. With the meeting concluded and clearance granted, she set off through the hallways of Vindsvair. Movement brought forth some stability to her posture, and a purpose kept her mind grounded. Her elbrow rubbed against the walls as she walked, eyes flickering over the facades. No arrows, but there was a console there, activating as she neared it to show a holographic display of the Vindsvair's interior. Routes were simple enough. She leaned her skull against the wall, took a breath, and continued on.

Her blood was rioting against her now. Wouldn't have been so bad if she'd held back during the simulation. If she'd known that it was impossible to beat, she wouldn't have strained herself so. Whatever. New things learned: Retra Corp's made up of Trekkies.

The observation balcony neared, and Thrones ran the last stretch of the way, practically collapsing against the rails as she hurled out the contents of her stomach. Half-digested pastries mixed with bile fell down, before scattering in the wind streaming over the massive aircraft. The engines were obnoxiously loud, jackhammering into her mind, but it kept the voices away. Thrones hissed deeply, then pushed herself upwards. Felt like a day full of making bad decisions. Just a little bit.

"Just a little bit."

Her right hand stretched outwards, the crystals in her blood and mind resonating, rings of gravitational force expanding a couple meters beyond the observation deck. Always took a little more to quell the delusions when she practiced her Arts without using her Arts, but it'd have to do. Retra was a busy company with big plans. They'll all have work soon. But when was that? Could just ask after.

Thrones continued to lean against the railings, her blood growing colder even as her heart beat faster.

Just a little bit. Just a little bit? Just a bit little. Justice bit. Just...

The ring winked out, and the Sankta hit the ground.

Cacophony Concord

@Shovel
Sounds good to me. So you're aware, everyone knows each other prior to Cacophony Concord, and basically plan on playing together, at least for the time being. Think their connection was something like a game-related Discord server?

Anyways, if you wanna form any special relationships, feel free to discuss 'em. Stanislaw's a former pro gamer, if you want some solidarity there.

Read through the first post of the IC, as well as my second post in the IC. Fill out the sheets, post your CS, post in the IC, and I'll getcha started from there.

Lostman Graffiti

The Sharehouse

Iwao had to be losing it if he was expecting a radio to sound out when it was rather decisively turned off. Nothing ominous or ordinary came out of the machine, and instead, his ears simply picked up the ordinary sounds of an empty house. The clock ticked, the faucet dripped, and old injuries seemed to throb in synchronization with it. His own room was quieter, but not by much. The traffic sounded infrequently outside, while the crows cawed frenetically, a flock scattering away in the last shades of evening. The walls were thin in the sharehouse, sound-proofing non-existent.

So he could clearly hear when the radio was turned back on, a distinct click sounding, followed by the garbling of voices as it changed frequencies. Did Sayuri head downstairs after all? Did Fumiko come back? From within his own room, Iwao couldn’t tell, but the program itself seemed normal enough. ‘Tenoroshi Tonight’, an evening news segment done by a Takahiro Tatsuya, reporting on new happenings around the city on June 15. The police investigating reports of gun shots heard in the Northern District. Another missing persons report, this time for a young man with black hair and square-framed glasses last seen in the Northwestern district. And on lighter news, a runaway goat from the local petting zone having escaped down the train tracks stretching from the Southeastern District to the Central District.

The youth was focusing this time. Paying attention. It was easy enough to remember that today was the 14th. A radio gaffe? Or something more?

Iwao would have to wait though. Through the thin walls of the sharehouse, he could hear loud steps going up the porch, followed by a door being thrust opened, then slammed shut. Someone was home.

---

Sayuri’s message went unread.

Well, it wasn’t like that was all too uncommon. If Hiro was going to be so busy that he couldn’t even make it home for dinner, he wasn’t going to be able to immediately read and respond either. Or maybe he didn’t bother reading it because he was already home?
The walls were thin, after all. She could hear it too, the sound of a door opening and then closing downstairs, accompanied by the indistinct murmurs of the radio she thought had already been turned off.

---

Fumiko and Otoya ran hard, and it wasn’t as if they needed to run far either. The skittering of the giant rat continued to dog them, but as they made the turn at the entrance of the alleyway, as they bounded up the steps of the sharehouse, wrenching the door open, the two both noticed that they were no longer being chased. The rat had turned the opposite direction that they had, nothing but a lump of black fur in the amber light of the streets now.

Except...if they narrowed their eyes, was that another oversized vermin, pushing its form out from a storm drain to follow the first?

Fucking gross. Tenoroshi seriously needed pest control, huh?

Western District

“What are you talking about?” Atsushi replied, a brow raised. “I’m an Uber driver.”

The streets were empty, but the detective still obeyed speed limits and uncooperative traffic lights. The ride was comfortable, but the interior smelled of faded air freshener. One hung from the rearview mirror, shaped like a pine tree yet not smelling of either pine nor tree. A couple minutes passed before he replied, tapping a finger on the steering wheel. “Did he have her shoes?”

The car pulled over to the side, one of the front wheels grinding up against the curb. Atsushi grimaced; he was a good driver when it came to following traffic regulations, but that was just about it. Outside, the neon sign of ‘Camera & Film’ buzzed like a mosquito, moths bouncing against the surface of the ‘lamp’.

He waited for Aya to exit before rubbing the stubble of his chin.

“Department’s not gotten any reports about missing children. Careful on your way back, Aya.”

From Oubliette to Oublioth [R.I.P]

Whatcha talking about? Pommels exist only for that purpose. How else will you end someone in an honorable and respectful manner?

WitchBlood

Why do that, when you can just kill all the Other Humans, then evacuate to the real world, and laugh as the vampires starve to death?

Skybound

Two Normal People Having A Normal Conversation

_{Outside the Captain's Quarters}

It was only just a door– a standard door like any other on the Fornacis. No golden frills, no heralds announcing guest entrances, and certainly no standardized bowing and scraping as one entered. So why was this door the most formidable one Steph had ever encountered?

She dipped her mop back into the bucket. It was the night of the 16th. Most of the other crew had gone to bed. To the left of the hallway, nothing. To the right, also nothing. It was the perfect chance to investigate.

Investigate my ass! She was normally above such crude language, but a few days on the ship surrounded by unruly crewmembers had already sullied her vocabulary, nevermind her mood. The damned door was locked. Locked! What kind of a captain never shows their face to their crew?

It was a mystery all too perplexing. All of a sudden, a cadre of crew members of the legendary ship had come back after complete silence for years with no leader in sight. There was that Taruva, but from what Steph had seen of him, he didn't seem the type to go launching a call to adventure like this. No, the answer had to lie within the captain's chambers. Something, someone had pulled the most powerful Empyrean crew ever to exist back to its home.

"Mmm?"

A voice, from the shadows. Velvety, calm, and yet, unmistakably deadly.

"Whatcha doing there?"

Smooth movements, totally relaxed. A man with hair the color of midnight, and a suit custom-tailored to his proportions. There was a smile on his face, unbothered and unthreatened, and he closed in without causing a single floorboard to creak.

"Lookin' for something, Miss?"

Steph nearly slipped in her own mop water. "Ah! No, nothing at all. I'm just, erm, cleaning the floor!" She hurriedly splashed some more cleaning fluid on the floor, nearly skimming the man's shoes with the soapy fluid.
I didn't hear him approaching at all?

"Cleaning the floor?" The tall man nodded, swaying on his feet. "Industrious, ain'tcha? Trying to get into that room too?"

"N-not at all. I wasn't doing that. Trying to get into the room, I mean. I most certainly am cleaning the floor. Trying to get into the room would be something far above the station of a janitor like me."

"Eh...you don't clean inside rooms?"

"Well... this one's locked. It's bothering me a lot." Steph said. "Oh, um, because of my janitor's soul! I can't stand knowing that there could be dust or grime or dirt on this legendary ship. It simply doesn't do! I've already tried knocking, getting a key, looking for anyone to follow inside, and–" she realized her words and shut her mouth fast.

"Mm, can definitely approve of that self-starting attitudeee." He nodded heavily, arms crossed. "Still, it's too late for you to be working, ain't it? Can't recommend that at all..."

"Hm? Who're you to be questioning my worktimes? It's a manner of pride for me to stay out of sight during the day. Workers must remain stealthy, inconspicuous so as not to disturb their superiors. I learned that from... my mentor."

He smiled, before taking off his hat and bowing slightly.

"I'm the Captain."

A pause. Steph's hurriedly closed jaw dropped.

"Just kidding. Cain Darlite, medic and all. Would rather not have to see you at the medical bay, y'know? Overwork's a killer."

"Ah. That was quite mean-spirited of you. I am Stephanie Erona, janitor. Pleasure." Her expression indicated that it was anything but.
"Do not worry for my health, please. I have trained for years to reach my current state of performance. This is perfectly within my limits. Have you much experience with those of the overworking sort?"

"Sorry, sorry. Thought a joke would lighten things up a bit, y'know? You're looking hella tense after all." Cain laughed. "Seems like everyone's some sort of nightowl, honestly. Just yesterday, I came into the kitchen to see Merry and Nia still going at it. And the head doctor basically doesn't even leave her office."

Another pause, this time more thoughtful.

"What sorta training have you been up to though? Never thought there was anything that'd allow people to work so late without longtime drawbacks."

"Endurance training. Of... the janitor kind. I also sleep during the day. How about you? Surely a doctor has better things to do than slinking about in the late hours of the night. Do you not have any patients to care for?"

"Nocturnal habits, I see. Noted, noted." Definitely noted. Gonna have to add that to the report. What was her name again...Stephie? "And nope, not anymore. Thought I'd walk off the buzz n get some sleep. Anyways, captain's sleeping too, so you'd probably do well to wait till they wake up before cleaning their room, yeah?"

"The captain is... sleeping?" Steph thought for a moment. "Hold on. Who's the captain? Do you mean former captain Branka?"

"Can't be former if she's still alive, y'know?" Cain shrugged. "Old crew's making decisions all Izma-style right now, cause no one wants to replace her."

"I... see. Do you know who called the crew back together, then?"

"The ship, obviously."

"You mean the ship as in the Taruva? Or like, the ship as in the boat itself? Forgive my question, but I'm rather unfamiliar with this sort of abstract speaking."

"They're one and same, are they not?" Cain brushed his magnificent hair back, and began to philosophize. "Soul and body, taruva and boat. We're all just pilots of our own vessels, whether crafted of flesh or wood or stone. When one speaks of your deeds, do they not mean both the intent of your spirit and the motions of your substance?"

"I... what?" Steph blinked. She'd never been one for philosophy, only bothering to go through the minimum motions at the Academy. "I suppose...? Mr. Darlite, thank you for the lesson. I'd never thought of it that way." She did a slight bow– it was only polite to do so after someone taught you something,.

"Oh no, Cain's fine," the slightly-drunk medic chuckled. "Honestly, I should be calling you Miss Stephie or something, considering seniority n all."

"Seniority? Oh, but you are a doctor, strange as you might be, while I am only a janitor. What sort of seniority is this?"

"The seniority of age? And technically, I'm an assistant. Super technically."

"Seniority of age? Why, I-" Steph stopped herself. She'd taken on a fake age for the sake of the mission, saying she was 25 rather than 29, but still... "Hmph. How rude. Were I not a woman of morals, I would put you in your own medicine bay."

"Oh, you too practice the Janitor Arts, capable of crippling a man with a single broom sweep?" Cain raised his hands in mock surrender. "Was jokin' bout the age thing anyhow. I'm like, one year older than you. But formality's just weird anyhow. We're both grunt workers, eh?"

"I suppose. Cain it is, then." Steph frowned. "I'm not specially trained, I simply go through life with adequate protection. Anyone working on a ship should be able to defend themselves."

"You'll be the first one I run to when the pirates start boarding then," Cain winked.

"...I've said too much," Steph murmured to herself. "Erm... it's been a lovely talk, but I think I must be going. Um. Back. Is that what people say? I need to... get to the top deck and clean there. Goodbye!" She grabbed her things and began to leave.

Ah, hold on a minute."

"W-what?" She stopped.

"A tip from one floorsweep to another: clean rooms during midday, cause it's real uncomfortable for a janitor to slip into your room at the dead of night."

With that, Cain dipped his head down in the facsimile of a bow, before disappearing down the hallway, humming a quiet tune.