Fairess

Obsolete Angels

Voices—she was surrounded by them. Some felt familiar, others foreign, and though each one spoke softly, there were so many that their words bounced off the walls of her head as indistinct echoes. Time she’d lost track of long ago, and in the darkness of pseudo-hibernation, all she could do was imagine what each voice was doing far outside her line of vision. At times like this, she imagined she was being repaired, as every now and again, one of her limbs would be prodded or lifted up. She’d wake up on the table in a lab, restrained until a Crystex Core was inserted into her implant and her new objective was declared. This time, however, something was different. It was an indistinct something, a new flavor to the air. As she focused on it, her lethargic brain began to process the sensation and, strangely enough, labeled it as intense discomfort. Well, that wasn’t new. Nemesis prepared to nestle back into the comfort of unconsciousness until another thought sparked on its own. If she was safely restrained in a lab, why was she in an uncomfortable position? Why was it so cold? Nemesis’ eyes shot open, blank, yet full of unstinting purpose. Though her vision was little more than a blur at first, she eventually came to see that she was in an outside area—namely, a junk heap. Her barely moveable lips cracked into a smirk, and in one smooth motion, she tore the shell of a drone off her torso. That thing had been restricting her ability to breathe for some time; it was evident from the greyish spots on her torso that would soon become bruises. On some level, she understood what’d happened in her lapse of consciousness. The scientists responsible for her care had made no secret of her increasingly difficult upkeep and the inevitability that she would malfunction beyond repair. Rather than feeling outcast and useless, however, she felt a strange rush of pleasure. The junkyard riddled with her foes of the past was impressive. Here lay her opponents, creation after creation that had not been able to match her. These were her trophies, the sum of her existence, and if her fate truly was to be tossed aside, her value had at least been greater than those doleful creations—for a time. Like the mortal beings surrounding her, her prime had reached its brink and was fated to retreat until she was nothing but bones and ash. Her lack of commands was, in truth, a very clear command she’d dreaded ever since her first failure to deconstruct a drone: her only task now was to die. It wasn’t resentment she felt, but confusion. If she was functional enough to move, to think, to act, why was she resting among the inert remains and other junk from her commanders? Surely, if she was active, there was a purpose beyond submitting herself to the abyss. Rain drizzled down, and the torn remains of her suit flapped idly against skin and metal as she sat in her heap of victory and contemplated her next move. To attempt to return to the lab would be futile, and even if she wished it, a mere glance at her surroundings was enough to tell such a thing was impossible. She was in unfamiliar, yet familiar territory: she recognized the drones and machinery from the base she’d lived in, but all of the garbage had been dumped off-location. What choice did she have but to move? Nemesis paid no mind to the racket she made as she dug her legs out from the slimy, broken machinery. It took a bit of time, given that she had only one mechanical arm attached, but then the real feat began. Just rolling down the grimy heap would result in cuts and bruises, and she knew her constitution was already at its limits. She had to carefully wade her way down, letting her legs sink with every step. It was a macabre little symphony as metal bits clinked, scraped, and popped, oozing out pockets of oil and mud. The next obstacle she faced was much less intimidating: it was nothing more than a wire-linked fence. Beyond it, there was a barren space of land before a smattering of buildings. Past those black shapes was a brighter, taller skyline completely alien to her. Even so, that was sign enough of civilization: there she would find purpose again. Nemesis slipped her foot into one of the links, then her hand. With her foot on the bottom and fingers on the top, she began to pull it open, effectively ripping the fence apart. When she had a hole large enough to fit through, she edged out of the junkyard. She still received a myriad of shallow scratches from the jagged edges of the broken links as she passed, but that was nothing to her frozen skin. All she could do was limp forward now, either to find her salvation or find her end.

Obsolete Angels

Name: Nemesis Gender: Female Character Type: Cyborgel Appearance: What skin remains of Nemesis’ is pale and fair. Her head is mostly intact, though many parts of her skull and the majority of her spine have been replaced. She has one ear intact: the other is composed of a wireless receiver that connects deeper into her brain. All four of her limbs are mostly missing from her elbows and knees down—all that remains is bone that has been mostly supplanted by metal. She leans towards a lanky build, but the features of her face remain angelic, sporting a soft nose and chin. She is a natural redhead and has blue eyes. As for wings—these have also been stripped down to bone and replaced with gears and joints to maintain their use (these have since been damaged and are inoperable in her current state). Oddly enough, her natural white feathers still grow from her bones and pockets of functional flesh. These metal-plated bones (and various other parts of her limbs that are fully replaced by metal and mechanisms) have a copper color. As far as clothes, Nemesis wears whatever is required of the occasion, though her career has mostly dictated plain bodysuits and helmets. Career: Nemesis was one of the angels whose mental adjustments did not go well. Having lost nearly everything that was her former life, all that remained was a passionate, burning rage. She was not compatible for service-related tasks, and rather than completely scrapping her, she was given a bodysuit and put into military testing for mechanized soldiers and untested military equipment. In simple terms, she was kept in captivity and released to tear apart robotic prototypes, thus exposing weaknesses while highlighting the strengths of each respective model. Naturally, it was not a career she could last long in. Recovery that took weeks between trials became months as each fracture, rupture, and replacement became more complicated to repair. When she was deemed useless, her weapon implements (namely prototype blades) were removed and she was on the brink of being tossed away with the very same robotic ruins she’d destroyed. This state of ruin, however, had sated the mindless vengeance she had survived with. Her temperament was mild, not far from comatose, and she was still capable of responding to orders. Given the money spent on her physical adjustments, the company is still in debate over whether she should be re-assigned or simply left to rot. Skills:

• Bludgeoning: Close combat involving the use of fists is part of the reason she has no flesh left on her hands.
• Sword Use: Close combat involving the use of mundane and plasma blades.
• Supplemented Strength: Due to most of her skeletal and muscle structure being replaced by machinery, she has twice the strength of a normal man, allowing her to pry apart metal sheets and break small bricks.
• Robotic Destruction: Taking apart experimental machinery has given her a refined approach to killing machines—she knows where the weakest points of most combat-related weaponry and mechs are, where their power sources are, and how to bypass impenetrable metal shells to disrupt their power sources.
• Crystal-Code Reading: Due to an implant in her brain called the Crystex-Reader 430, she is capable of reading coded information burned onto Crystex Cores. Crystex Cores are banks of physical memory that can record most, if not all known medias. They are, however, formed from rare materials and require very specific devices to burn data onto them. For this reason, they are used almost exclusively in the military to record and share sensitive information. In the case of Nemesis, the Crystex-Reader 430 was implanted directly into her brain. It can read Crystex Cores inserted into the device that was once her ear (referenced above) and relay the information at will to her brain. Her brain still has to read and process the information, but this was a very direct means of teaching her how to use equipment that was later applied to her body to be tested.

Supernatural Abilities: Flight—one would assume. Personality:

• Willful
• Loyal
• Logical
• Sadistic
• Brooding

Bio: Nemesis has only recently come to recall shreds of her past—with her body broken, she had nothing left but to ruminate on her own existence. She knows that, to some extent, she was once a leader responsible for dispatching troops, but who she may have commanded and for what reason she cannot recall. She has the vague understanding that she was once a whole being, without machinery, and that thought alone had caused the rage that sustained her through so much bodily damage. Apart from those vague facts, she is left only with procedural memory: to respond immediately to commands without question was ingrained into her long before she became a testing puppet for the government. Her grace with the blade has also always been natural to her, and on occasion, she finds herself ruminating on things she has no former recollection or context of, like the patterns of the stars. Likes: Standing over dismantled robotic foes, warm temperatures, physical exercise, puzzles that blueprints present, and examining objects she has not yet seen before. Dislikes: Medical centers, animals (she cannot comprehend them), sleep, situations that do not have a very specific objective to accomplish. Theme Song:Beyond that Prayer Other: REBORN

Obsolete Angels

I realize this is very late into the acceptance period, but I thought I'd try my hand at these pseudo-angels. I understand that I'm starting off with a very militant character to begin with, but I feel like the career was a decent approach and honestly, it was the only one I could think of given the exceptionally dark aspects of this fictional world. So here she is, for better or worse. Name: Nemesis Gender: Female Character Type: Cyborgel Appearance: What skin remains of Nemesis’ is pale and fair. Her head is mostly intact, though many parts of her skull and the majority of her spine have been replaced. She has one ear intact: the other is composed of a wireless receiver that connects deeper into her brain. All four of her limbs are mostly missing from her elbows and knees down—all that remains is bone that has been mostly supplanted by metal. She leans towards a lanky build, but the features of her face remain angelic, sporting a soft nose and chin. She is a natural redhead and has blue eyes. As for wings—these have also been stripped down to bone and replaced with gears and joints to maintain their use (these have since been damaged and are inoperable in her current state). Oddly enough, her natural white feathers still grow from her bones and pockets of functional flesh. These metal-plated bones (and various other parts of her limbs that are fully replaced by metal and mechanisms) have a copper color. As far as clothes, Nemesis wears whatever is required of the occasion, though her career has mostly dictated plain bodysuits and helmets. Career: Nemesis was one of the angels whose mental adjustments did not go well. Having lost nearly everything that was her former life, all that remained was a passionate, burning rage. She was not compatible for service-related tasks, and rather than completely scrapping her, she was given a bodysuit and put into military testing for mechanized soldiers and untested military equipment. In simple terms, she was kept in captivity and released to tear apart robotic prototypes, thus exposing weaknesses while highlighting the strengths of each respective model. Naturally, it was not a career she could last long in. Recovery that took weeks between trials became months as each fracture, rupture, and replacement became more complicated to repair. When she was deemed useless, her weapon implements (namely prototype blades) were removed and she was on the brink of being tossed away with the very same robotic ruins she’d destroyed. This state of ruin, however, had sated the mindless vengeance she had survived with. Her temperament was mild, not far from comatose, and she was still capable of responding to orders. Given the money spent on her physical adjustments, the company is still in debate over whether she should be re-assigned or simply left to rot. Skills:

• Bludgeoning: Close combat involving the use of fists is part of the reason she has no flesh left on her hands.
• Sword Use: Close combat involving the use of mundane and plasma blades.
• Supplemented Strength: Due to most of her skeletal and muscle structure being replaced by machinery, she has twice the strength of a normal man, allowing her to pry apart metal sheets and break small bricks.
• Robotic Destruction: Taking apart experimental machinery has given her a refined approach to killing machines—she knows where the weakest points of most combat-related weaponry and mechs are, where their power sources are, and how to bypass impenetrable metal shells to disrupt their power sources.
• Crystal-Code Reading: Due to an implant in her brain called the Crystex-Reader 430, she is capable of reading coded information burned onto Crystex Cores. Crystex Cores are banks of physical memory that can record most, if not all known medias. They are, however, formed from rare materials and require very specific devices to burn data onto them. For this reason, they are used almost exclusively in the military to record and share sensitive information. In the case of Nemesis, the Crystex-Reader 430 was implanted directly into her brain. It can read Crystex Cores inserted into the device that was once her ear (referenced above) and relay the information at will to her brain. Her brain still has to read and process the information, but this was a very direct means of teaching her how to use equipment that was later applied to her body to be tested.

Supernatural Abilities: Flight—one would assume. Personality:

• Willful
• Loyal
• Logical
• Sadistic
• Brooding

Bio: Nemesis has only recently come to recall shreds of her past—with her body broken, she had nothing left but to ruminate on her own existence. She knows that, to some extent, she was once a leader responsible for dispatching troops, but who she may have commanded and for what reason she cannot recall. She has the vague understanding that she was once a whole being, without machinery, and that thought alone had caused the rage that sustained her through so much bodily damage. Apart from those vague facts, she is left only with procedural memory: to respond immediately to commands without question was ingrained into her long before she became a testing puppet for the government. Her grace with the blade has also always been natural to her, and on occasion, she finds herself ruminating on things she has no former recollection or context of, like the patterns of the stars. Likes: Standing over dismantled robotic foes, warm temperatures, physical exercise, puzzles that blueprints present, and examining objects she has not yet seen before. Dislikes: Medical centers, animals (she cannot comprehend them), sleep, situations that do not have a very specific objective to accomplish. Theme Song: N/A Other: REBORN

Black Cross, Red Beast: A Transylvanian Affair (OWoD VtDA)

So, uh, is everyone in this rp still alive? Is the DM gonna have a character?

Totem

Overemotional Adele is the best Adele.

@clark

It's the only Adele. Ah Dijonn, the passionate fantasies you evoke in Adele! (She's imagining yanking her boot off and tossing it at the back of his head.)

Men vs. Women Race to 1000

-138

Men vs. Women Race to 1000

-139 \o/ We can do it, ladies!

The Illegitimate Baron of Burke (Fairess and Ontos)

With the dragon finally out of the kitchen, things more or less went back to normal. The scones were a little late in coming, but there were still plenty of other desserts to occupy the guests with—creamy custards, blueberry Danishes, and of course, the daintily frosted cupcakes that had somehow escaped the invading dragon’s attention. These were brought out tray by tray as the footmen took them out for the guests, and the maids were able to take a breath of relief. Well, at least most of them. Verity was still cleaning up after them, wiping off flour dusted countertops, sweeping away crumbs, and washing the dishes. So many pastries meant lots of annoyingly stubborn pans, so half of them were soaking as she worked on the dirty plates from dinner. It promised to be a long, long night with all the stacks of porcelain awaiting her, but it wasn’t hard work, and her mind was free to wander. At least it was until the housekeeper’s voice was barking in her ear again. “Verity! You neglected the young master’s meal, didn’t you! Drop those dishes right now and prepare a plate for him before the food gets any colder!” Verity cringed, feeling like she was being blamed for yet another chore that’d been ignored in favor of the other work she’d been tasked to. How was she supposed to know exactly when to stop and switch between kitchen duties and the eclectic master’s needs? Ah well, I’ll forgive her for tonight. It’s been stressful with so many guests. If the master is accustomed to being so irresponsible, though, I don’t think it should matter if his dinner is late. Serves him right for the trouble his pet caused. Even so, Verity did leave the dishes in favor of preparing a plate. When Lettie saw the poor maid slapping on food on a plate, she scurried over to help. As it turned out, the food apparently had to look nice, too. The pair of maids re-heated the roasted chicken in the oven for a minute or so, then set a healthy amount of roasted rosemary potatoes next to it. They added a bed of Brussel sprouts with chestnuts, then some sautéed mushrooms with butter and garlic to complete the dish. There also was a strange order to setting the tray. “The placemat goes first, of course.” Lettie set down a lacey white cloth, flattening it ever-so-carefully across the tray. “Then you fold the napkin in half and place it on the left side. The plate has to go in the center, overlapping the right side of the napkin just a bit. Then we put the dinner fork on the left—not quite touching the plate, then the salad fork next to it…” The whole process was a little too complicated the first time around, but it sort-of made sense. With a tray laden with dinner, forks, a small dessert plate, and a goblet topped with wine, Verity finally stepped out of the kitchen. The halls were still busy with the footmen going back and forth between the party and the kitchen, but things quieted down almost immediately after she passed the ballroom. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting of the rest of the house, but some part of her had expected to hear the growls of a dragon. It wasn’t hard to find her master—she had Lettie’s instructions, after all. The kind maid had also informed her about the master’s ‘bodyguard,’ some strange, frightening woman she was urged not to speak to or make any threatening gestures towards. After the dragon incident, she honestly wasn’t that surprised, though she had no idea how a tiny little thing like him could have gained the respect of such a frightening woman. The door was ajar when she arrived, so she stepped in without asking permission. She was met by a truly strange sight: there was an assortment of cages, a strange workshop-like setup along the opposing wall, and oddly enough, a woman sleeping in the corner of the room. On the floor. Verity perked up a brow, but decided not to question the master’s bizarre tastes: she just wanted to deliver the dinner and finish her work for the evening. “Master Burkes: your dinner.” Verity approached from behind, lightly setting the immaculately prepared meal on the table where he worked.

Airedale's Rebirth

A shiver had run down her spine when the earl touched her, and the eerie feeling from the gesture hadn’t faded when he led her away from the gathering. She’d also been surprised how a sudden burst of servants had emerged from the kitchen just as he’d begun to lead her away—she’d lost sight of most everyone before she’d even left the room. Gone was the music, the lit chandeliers and the bubble of conversation. With each step she’d taken, her unease had grown into nervous paranoia. He was trying to be subtle and polite; that much was obvious. Even so, her hand itched towards her thigh: underneath her dress was a set of vials for cases of emergency and self-defense. She had no reason to believe that he would attack her, but on the other hand, he was acting remarkably suspicious. Why invite her to a gathering when she’d provided no information about herself? Why provide her with a dress? Why take her away from everyone when the entire theme was mingling? Was it a dark fascination with her that she’d somehow acquired? Did he have a history of escorting away unaccompanied young ladies to his study? As one question led to another, little beads of sweat appeared along the edge of her forehead and the nape of her exposed neck. By the time they reached his study, she was feeling cold, stiff, and a little bit nauseas as her over-fed stomach complained at her to relax. Despite the paleness her face had taken, she still managed to appear somewhat composed, a thin smile upon her face as she stepped into the earl’s veritable library. She could see a fine wooden desk in the corner of her eye, but elected not to go near it—the thing radiated an oppressive, business-like aura. Instead, she gazed about for another, more relaxed place to begin conversing with the earl, only to feel another shudder when the click of the door closing sounded from behind. Cicely turned, eyes wide, and there he was. Between her and escape loomed the tall, immaculately dressed Mr. Eisenhorn. This time, the sweat was thick enough to start the tiniest trickle down her neck. Cicely promptly cleared her throat and turned back around, unsure of whether or not she was overreacting. Surely, another guest from downstairs wouldn’t feel quite so oppressed. She would have been flattered and eager, no? But then she would have to be clueless: one did not approach an earl casually, nor accept his attentions without regard to the consequences of gaining or losing his favor. But he has been pleasant. I’m just… I’m overthinking things. I’ve never been in a situation like this, so I just need to calm down and act rationally. Cicely found a comfortable-looking sofa next to one of the nearby bookcases and made her way towards it, trying to remove the lump in her throat before she sat herself down and spoke. “I’m so sorry—my constitution this evening is rather weak. Wine would be too much at the moment, but if you had some water…”

Black Cross, Red Beast: A Transylvanian Affair (OWoD VtDA)

Sorry I'm late, folks, traffic was terrible. Good to see a new face! I'll be trying to get this up and rolling a bit more seriously between today and tomorrow, including going over your character (who at a glance I very much like!), and I appreciate your collective patience. How is everyone else doing with their characters? I am entirely happy to assist, my availability is just mildly limited.

@Howler

o/ Nice to see ya, too! I've added a bit more to my CS, namely some appearance and mannerisms. Once again, if you need me to edit anything, or have questions about what I have so far, I'm here to listen and edit.