Grade

[Closed] Lost RPG

Henri stayed in this position of leaning forward, his severed left arm moving on its own to lift a hand that hasn't been there for several moments now. Eventually, Henri's torso started listing forward and he let out a groan as his body, normally incapable of feeling pain, still hurt all over.

"Sounds like I'll have to pay up... I only have around 20 silver coins... Would my loyalty suffice? If you find value in having me on your side, anyway."

He slowly sat up straight, and the backrest of his wheelchair rose back up to its normal position, and he sighed as he leaned onto it. His hair, swept back and frozen leaning towards the right due to the explosion, a part of it on the left of his face had its length reduced, no longer concealing his lack of human-shaped ears. All that was there is an indented plate of steel forming a pentagon pointing down, with a notch at the top to secure his eyeglasses which, the left lens of it is also cracked.

His severed left arm, its hand grabbed his abruptly amputated right arm, and he swung it back to latch onto his shoulder, but a lot of parts are missing. "No, I figured I'll have to make do with more mundane materials, one of these days. It's fine."
Red-hot iron rose from within the depths of his body and started filling in the gap, as well as his missing right hand. It looked so obvious, this silver chunk on his body amidst the pale white ceramic. It amused him. "Scars to remember you by when this trip is over."
He probably needs to cover this up, though. This large hole on the shoulder of his coat surely doesn't look fashionable, right? These iron wounds would attract unneeded attention, too. He glanced at Ember and was about to ask if she could mend his clothes and loan a spare right-hand glove, but he remembers her current bout of nausea.

"Wait. How inconsiderate of me to provoke you into exerting your power. Do you want to exchange seats? It's leather. Comfortable. You can sleep on it. Well, actually, I just assume it's comfortable, I can't actually gauge for myself if it truly is."

[Closed] Lost RPG

Henri immediately realizes the vastness of Ember's power, indeed far too much for his measly golem core to contain. Inundated by this massive surplus, his rock-shaped core, for the first time in its tenure, begins to liquefy and expand, and it causes him great pain. He groans. It hurts. It's like being violently pulled apart in every possible direction.

In no time at all, his core expands to a point where it would fill every crevice inside of his body, and he would bloat and explode for real. The backrest of his wheelchair falls down, and his upper back and neck opens like several tiny double-doors, and orange-hot tentacles violently creep out, looming over them like a freak balloon.

It's strange how gently his body made way for this excess, it's like it's planned, hidden in his subconscious, like this was meant to happen. He remembers the time when he sought to create this alternate self, how he merely skimmed the pages of his stolen books to get to the result. What if, in the midst of that, he forgot a step which would coincidentally say 'expose this core to an endless source of magic', and all this time it was the reason why he'd been having issues not unlike lethargy?

> "When I said it would pop my wand, I wasn't kidding, dahling--- So, is this enough, or do you need more?"

Still in tremendous pain, his senses dulled by this massive influx of mana, his shivering left hand reaches to grab Ember's arm on his chest, trying to weakly pull it towards him, as if goading her to step it up. As he did so, the glowing amber tentacles turn into bright sapphire and sink back into Henri. The incandescence peering through his joints turn into the same sapphire hue, as the bloating core condenses and forms a structure throughout his body, like a more erratic nervous system. Images of 'internal organs' appear in his memory, ready to be constructed should he possess both the necessary materials and desire.

However, even this evolution seems inadequate to contain this endless flow that Ember yet continues to give, as she yet again increases the rate at which she gives it. A hint of damage in his left shoulder begins to give way, a weak spot amidst the protections granted by the now-visible sigils across his body. He tries to cover it with his right hand but it still explodes, making him turn and dislodge Ember's hand off his chest, ending this lightshow.

This damage might've been back when Ember hurled him across the lower deck and into one of the ship's pillars. He did neglect to check for damage after that incident, he just figured there wouldn't be any.

The hand holding on to Ember's arm slides off and drops to Henri's lap along with his entire left arm, and his right hand is fully gone, blown to bits. Yet, he slowly moves his left arm under Ember's wrist and lifts it to touch her hand with his ceramic mouth.

"... Fine. You are power itself," he says during. He really doesn't bother to move his mouth when he speaks.

[Closed] Lost RPG

"You can't just ask for a foc-- All of them require sentimental value. Are you sure it's even you and not the focii you use? You seem to place them on too high of a pedestal."

Nary an inch of movement. Seems like the black-haired man on a wheelchair has gone full standby to recuperate his losses. A more discerning person would detect a mosquito merely hover nearby and subsequently fall down, dead.

"Henri. My name. Some might call me 'Wheelo' or 'Carter' right now though, for I told them these as my name. It... Yes, okay, I didn't think these names through, don't mock it."

[Closed] Lost RPG

The black-haired man snickered, pieces of his face sliding apart to form somewhat of a smile, hearing of this potential 'glowing hole' in his torso. "I'm sure I would've been able to survive it."

His 'smile' dissipated as he climbed back up his chair and moved beside Ember. "No, I was looking to ingest your discharge, actually. My mana's running low and I need it to move around. It's a net negative for me to even swing my arm, we don't regenerate it with our stomachs like you do. Plus there's..."

"Not really much connection left back home. As far as being cryogenized goes, it's just me here right now."

The backrest of his wheelchair descended slightly, setting him slouched. "I suppose it's a bit heinous to try to extract from an already nauseated woman. I apologize."

An awkward delay.

"Is Ember your actual name?"

[Closed] Lost RPG

"Bah. Threats." He tited his head up then fell back-first on the sandy floor. "I only did it that one time, I was too preoccupied to know if someone was in the roo-- Whatever, these excuses matter little to anybody."

He raised his left arm up, his hand wide open. Rays of the sun peering through his hand, through the leaves way above it, hitting his ivory eyes directly. He puts his gloves on one by one and unfolds his sleeves, and soon he notices Ember staring at him, possibly analyzing his humonculous nature, and so he tilts his head to look at her and she averts her discrete gaze and speaks.

"... I won't," he replies. Either a resignment of pride, or refrain from further argument, but that's that.

"I do want you to hit me with your conjured fire, though." He pushes back up with his arms, his torso slanted and head tilted back facing her. "Let me feel your actual power, not that of a mere showman who creates bubbles and fog in excess."

[Closed] Lost RPG

"The chair's not a factor in my abilities..."

The black-haired man on a wheelchair moves closer to this person sitting on her luggage, parallel facing the campfire. His head turns between the campfire and Ember, and in search of that widow and her child whose issues seem to have been placated. "I see. Would you allow me to aid you in this light work? I'd like to make amends for when I barged into your quarters without plea, and to fix my image in your eyes because I am not a pervert."

He removes his gloves and pulls back his sleeves, revealing hands and arms made of ceramic. He drops from his chair, kneels and holds his hands into the fire, absorbing some of its energy. "You attract me, I will admit, but never to a point where I'd lose any such self-control." Orange glows emanate from the linear cracks in his skin, crawling from his hands towards his torso where some kind of core must be, for something of his make.

He falls back and sits unkempt while reaching again for a flask in his coat. He pulls down his face covering, and drinks the last bit of water-like liquid from the flask. Fully empty. He shakes it for the last few drops, and puts it back in his coat. "By the way, I did borrow the card you gave the woman named DeVespe, which... I don't think I've seen her nearby so far."

@wierdw

[Closed] Lost RPG

@spiral origin

Sounds of loud thuds, smaller wooden thuds and varying loudnesses of slithering could be heard approaching the campfire. In the distance, it's almost visible that trees are getting suddenly impacted, and leaves fall down as they violently shake.

Eventually, the black-haired man on a wheelchair emerges, and he sees a reduced number of people in the campsite. He glances around, spotting Ember first, and so he drops the chain he held attached to a bear trap gobbling the bottom trunk of the tree he decapitated minutes ago and elected not to waste, and then slowly approached the nauseated person sitting near a campfire.

"Scalding Ember. Where did they go?"

@wierdw

[Closed] Lost RPG

It unnerved the black-haired man on a wheelchair, this feeling that he's being watched. The forest seemed endless too, he could get lost for real if this goes on. He does have this constant, vague sense of where north is, and wherever 'here' is right now, it still seems to be working.

Is it paranoia or something's surveying him from a distance? Is it just all the animals? Either way, they need to be taught a lesson on dominance hierarchy. He backs up towards one of the closest trees around him and fully elbows it with his left arm, with the intent of carving out a huge slice of the trunk and making the tree fall down.

@spiral origin

[Closed] Lost RPG

The black-haired man on a wheelchair is not there, as well as his wheelchair. A perceptive person could possibly detect the trail of two lines being dragged across this sandy floor, while those who would happen to just be staring at him would notice him venturing into the forest by himself. In fact, he would have noticed them back and gestured an index finger close to his mouth to indicate silence.

Silence. Indeed. Away from the mortals and their incessant talking. It's not quite as silent as being in the deep ocean, but the usual forest sounds are a nice change of pace. Not being submerged in material that induces rust and moss is a boon, too.
To reminisce from several minutes ago, he so immediately felt the befalling of pure cringe -- a feeling he didn't even imagine he could feel until then -- as Landon began touting his lineage, that he could not have heard Sonia's response to it. Sonia Al-Ha... Hay...t...? Sonia. Just Sonia. Yes, at this point she's probably the de-facto leader of this troupe. Not that he cares for it. Might be valuable information for later.

He halted from this rocky trek, his wheelchair enduring the bumps of several tree roots like a wagon let loose on a hill. He took from his inner pocket a flask of what seems like water but is most likely not, pulled down the cloth concealing the lower half of his face, and drank it.

@spiral origin

[Closed] Lost RPG

"I see."

The black-haired man on a wheelchair turned towards the loud redhead talking to the young man. Bah, he has no interest in cooperating with people. It's just going to be an annoyance. He expects nothing of this lot.

His head turned to the beach for some kind of distraction. Nothing on there. Any trees nearby that he could climb? Someone has to map out this island and look for notable spots. That redhead's quite tall for a woman. This other woman's orange tattered dress is distracting. He tried to grab the dress but she reflexively reacted, and he whispered "I just want to see what it's made of." Where has he seen this material? It's some kind of linen but it reflects light like silk... Wait a minute.

He snickered. "Hey, kid, I think I know whose dress this is. Oh, she's going to be mad." He scanned the area. "Is she still berating the widow?"