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𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℤ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟝𝟝


She heard songs and screams in her ears, the high of her unholy cocktail of drugs coloring the world in blotches of technicolor. But Isabella dared say she could see clearer when the chemicals rushed through her veins, because without them she was lifeless. A husk of a human. Even breathing felt like it was too much effort. Every crash after the highs rendered her almost immobile in their severity and she often mustered only enough energy to inject herself with another home-brewed concoction, pushing the dosage of lethality every time. Thi had "repaired" her more times than she could count and by now the surgeon had modified her body to withstand the vicious abuse, because the high was all she lived for at times.

Her whips cut through wood and flesh alike as she swung her arms, letting Chuck quickstep her easily away from any guns leveled in their ever-changing direction. Martin had stood still for a second too long after the maid had blinded most of them, just a millisecond out of Chuck's grasp. His bullet-ridden body lay mixed in a pile of dismembered guards, but even with one of theirs lost the soldiers' numbers had dwindled now to a weary handful while the injured maid had retreated into the mansion, too out of the way to prioritize over the gunfire aimed at them.

The most troublesome of the lot was, surprisingly, the old butler whose every shot seemed perfectly timed to force Chuck's spatial powers and prevent Isabella from striking with her usual precision. It was as if the longer they fought the man, the more he could read in to their movements and the limitations of Chuck's power.

With Isabella on the ride, the spacewalker could no longer jump the large distances he would have alone and even with the lessened burden of Martin he was already getting caught on the timing of the jumps. The only thing saving them from a bullet through the heart was the fact that the old man could not yet guess which direction Chuck would jump in, though he had already figured out the rhythm of the teleports. It was imperative that he die first, and even in her feverish state the drugged Aberration could tell they would be the losers in the long run, especially now that Chuck was forced to jump before she could even lash out at the remaining batch of soldiers. Her whips went wide and sliced clean through the air, but already the short-range teleporter was jumping again, giving her no time to reposition or focus. Just as they shifted away from the position, the unmistakable sensation of cutting air whizzed by her ear. Closer. He was getting closer and Chuck was starting to tire from pushing himself to jump so frequently with another person on board.

The words that came out of her mouth surprised her as much as they did the boy she shoved away.

"Run!" A bullet caught her in the right shoulder but her other arm was already swinging, the whip faster than the soldiers could dodge. The smell of seared flesh flooded the field before the morning breeze carried it away. The last three soldiers of the 30-man team opened fire, the bullets puncturing flesh and shattering bone in equal payback to the last whip that cut across their torsos. In the backline stood the butler, already firing at the space around Isabella, preparing for the teleporter to dash in for the body.

There was a hoarse scream, but the boy was already gone, moving swiftly away from the scene of the carnage when he realized the steely eyed manservant seemed all too aware of what he had wanted to do. And that the man had deliberately allowed the soldiers to draw much of Isabella's ire, keeping himself at a safe distance until he had figured them out.

It was true what they said of monsters like the Director Zhang--she always gathered more of the same to her side.


𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟 / / ~𝟘𝟞𝟘𝟘


The small town had taken the flooding in stride, much of the water destroying nothing that hadn't already been left to decay. At the sight of the distant wall of water, many had crowded into the only sturdy building in town, an obvious effort on the Director's part to inject more modern conveniences into the subnaturals' lives. Construction had been stopped partway, however, and unkempt scaffolding snaked around a quarter of the large motel where an entire wing had been left unfinished. With the haphazard way the equipment had been abandoned, the removal of the workers seemed more forced than willing.

And yet it was that building that easily withstood the weak edge of the tidal wave, minimal flooding seeping into the main courtyard and forming a large, shallow pool outside the motel's main entrance.

Here Andrew had gathered much of the remaining residents who were willing to leave their borderline hovels of homes. Some had powers that would hold against a bit of flooding, but most were glad to make use of the Director's gesture of--dare they say--affection. No one was under any illusions that the surge of water was natural and their de facto leader seemed more than ready for it, her ponytail as cleanly tied back as ever and her makeup impeccable.

She was the first to notice, long before Chuck stepped in range of the town's borders, that an entirely different sort of stranger was approaching, one that didn't belong in a way different from the students who had recently arrived. Her head turned to the direction of the boy's approach, realizing that only the motel's bright lights shone so effectively in the ramshackle village. He was approaching at an impossible pace and before she knew it the presence was at the door.

And it knocked politely at that.

Her raised hand meant no one was allowed to approach the door. The knocking grew more insistent. Then turned into fists pounding against the reinforced door. It would hold.

Before long, the presence had moved away again, covering dozens of meters instantaneously until it was out of her range.

She allowed herself a moment to breathe before noticing, once more, a group approaching. But these individual signatures she could recognize from the weeks at the estate and her occasional visit to the area's outskirts to pick up the bare minimum of necessary supplies from Aldrich. The man always urged her to take more--the mansion had enough to feed an army--but she had always refused out of the pride that wanted to believe she could lead the shambling town to some glorious revolution. It was a child's dream, but in the end she always refused the surplus, bringing back only what could sustain and urging the townsfolk to remain wary. To learn sustainable living. To fight against their reliance on the fickle kindness of their esteemed Director.

These kids shackled to their overlord's whims and allowances offended her on a personal level, for they had more strength than most of the island's inhabitants combined, yet bowed their heads to a woman whose only positive attribute was her insane drive.

"Mary...?" a man nearby called her name, placing a rough, weathered hand on the shoulder of her pleated blouse.

She blinked and patted his hand in assurance.

"The Institute's undomesticated dogs are coming. I don't know who the previous one was, but it wasn't any of ours. Not even remotely."

"Should we let the kids in? Even though they ain't welcome?" he asked, blue-gray eyes wide.

"Only as long as they need to be here. And only if they wise up and come here first. Otherwise we leave them out there to fend for themselves."



To be fair, I do plan to have more time skips now that we're well past the point of figuring out daily routines and general habits for the characters.

Reasonable time skips, of course, like 500 years into the future.
Interested! I'd like to make a mermaid, who is always in mermaid form so requires a wheelchair for terrestrial motion. Does this sound acceptable?
90% of these statements are incredibly false.

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕆𝕗𝕗𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟛𝟝


Rainwater streamed off the wooden boards of the pier as Thi fiddled with the controls in the ferry’s wheel house. It was an old thing, despite its solid functionality, and the dashboard offered only two throttles and two prop rotators, along with the standard speed gauges, warning lights, and ignition switch. For a moment, the simple lack of a key almost became a miracle on the students’ behalf, but the woman was dauntless and by the time she had donned her strange, needling glove and mapped out the tumblers of the switch, the rest of the Amigos had reached the flooded deck of the ferry, the heater mage finally removing his hand from the wall. Steam still issued loudly from the surface of the packed sand and dirt, but already the temperature was cooling in the onslaught of rain and wind.

“Get us going,” Nathaniel ordered entering the room well ahead of the other two and already remotely lifting the remaining Aberrations onto the boat. He dropped Angel’s cauterized, eviscerated torso in a corner of the wheel house, checking only briefly to ensure she was alive before returning outside to stand on the boat’s deck. A moment later, their surgeon had fashioned a grisly key from “extra” bone, the vestiges of her humanity that she had long replaced with her mechanical augmentations. Losing a metatarsal hardly fazed her. The boat’s engine sputtered to life, the lights flickering on inside the wheel house and along the front and back of the boat as the beams cast bright cones into the dawning light. A few moments of adjusting to the strange controls and they were off, the ferry veering clumsily away from the harbor until Thi seemed to catch on to the nuances of the levers.

As they reached an appreciable distance from the shoreline, Orla released her power’s effects, the structures crumbling swiftly back into mounds of sand and rock while the trees and sandstorm broke down as well when the other Aberrations followed suit, almost in perfect synchronization.

And the sun was rising.

Dawn came with the storm finally breaking. Rain still pattered along the island stubbornly and a milder wind insisted on accompanying the weakening bluster, but nature’s boiling rage had died down to a simmer and the light illuminated slowly the wreckage of the lighthouse roof scattered across the beach as well as the battered faces of the students and surviving staff. Two broken bodies in black suits and one wearing the unmistakable frill of the maids’ aprons lay near the far edge of the students’ impromptu frontlines where the marching trees had carelessly crushed anything underfoot, including hapless staff who had tried to help in whatever way they could. The distinct visage of something large and winged towards what remained of the lighthouse’s head caught Nathaniel’s attention and already he was motioning towards it, calling the others to bear. Most of their powers were rendered useless at sea.

Not his.

And Teitel’s orb had yet to be tested in real combat.

Nathaniel had never really believed in overkill; it was a sentiment the Father shared.

The dark blue orb pulsed in front of him, glistening like a jewel in the dim sunlight peeking over the horizon, like it knew what he planned to do, and this time he took it in hand, grim, because they had warned about the aftereffects of Teitel’s unstable creations. The man promised deadly results—guaranteed them, even—with equally deadly consequences if he were to be caught in the aftermath of the weapon’s use.

He didn’t trust anyone to have his back, nor did he trust them not to throw him overboard once they realized his weakened state. But to have a winged monster chasing them without any of their long-range offense was a problem he refused to have.

So the orb flashed bright blue in his hand and the ocean shuddered beneath him.

”For a brief moment, Natey, you might almost be a god!”

It was Teitel’s grating voice, the man’s throat seared from a lifetime of chain smoking and relentless drinking. To be granted godhood from vermin who couldn’t cure his own lung cancer and would have surely died if they hadn’t found Thi was bittersweet at best.

The memory fizzled away with the surge of power that raced through him, rippling like the ocean below. Above and below. Around. The water that roared. An infinite cascade of energy that Teitel’s weapon unlocked and beyond that vastness a howling riptide that whirled like the darkest depths of the ocean come to bear witness. Something shook beneath his feet and he looked down to see the water rising, as far as the eye could see. Droplets drifting upwards, the rain falling back into the sky. Voices whispered something behind him and he turned to look at his allies, their faces slack with fear. It took the vague reflection in the windows of the wheel house for him to realize he was glowing the same blue as the orb, a beacon brighter than the lighthouse had been.

And still the suffocating ocean crashed onto him, unaware of the vessel’s limits. The orb screamed with the pressure, the sound a keening note in the air. Always imperfect—that was the unerring condition with everything Teitel created, though the man would be hard-pressed to admit it. Power beyond belief, but hampered here and broken there. It wouldn’t lift that segment of the island. Wouldn’t crush it. Too heavy, too dense. Unless Nathaniel wanted to drink even more of the dizzying ocean above. More and more until he burst. He fought not to give in.

Water spiked into a wave a few dozen meters from the shore, the sea jutting into the sky and clawing upwards, growing higher until it dwarfed even the lighthouse high on its cliff. A tidal wave, building and building. More than enough to flood the beach and into the forest far behind it. The sky bled rain in twisting funnels of water that fed the coming disaster and just when the the rising wall of water and unwitting fish seemed to threaten the very clouds above, it slowed.

Then fell forward.

Water slammed into the shore, sweeping all the students outside of the lighthouse into a flood of icy ocean and lifting them into the sea’s grasp. It threw them back with the current, sending them tumbling towards the forest where the trees stood fast as a breakwater for the tidal wave. Inside the lighthouse, the windows shattered with the force of the impact, rain and sea pouring into the damaged building and filling a quarter of it before settling back out slowly as the wave passed. Everything above the tunnels, up to the third floor, was buoyed upward briefly and then dropped unceremoniously into a scattered pile of wet debris and damaged furniture. Water rushed through the edges of the trapdoor and into the tunnels below, filling it up almost waist-high before the deluge stopped and drained further down the tunnel. The sturdy lighthouse withstood the attack, though worse for the wear, its decades-old construction made with the ocean’s anger in mind.

But not a dragon. Chris was slammed back against the lighthouse, cracks webbing out from the point of impact. His left wing had its comparatively thin bones snapped like twigs. Allison and Kusari were similarly thrown by the vicious wave, the Aberration obtaining a fractured rib as she was thrown back against the lighthouse while the immortal’s ankles twisted as the water hurled her backwards and head over heels. A heavy mass knocked Zoe off her feet in time with the rush of ocean, forcing a poor landing that snapped her wrist and left her bruised. The body weighed on the girl as the tide returned, black-suited torso thoroughly mangled from an encounter with the walking trees earlier. The remaining corpses of the butler and maid washed up beside a breathless Callan.

By the time the attack had passed, the ferry had already made it to a safe distance away from the shore, a bright blue light shining on its deck where Nathaniel stood.



Welcome! I hope the large variety of roleplay genres and styles here to fit your needs (and you can always create one if there isn't one). Don't be afraid to ask others for help in the off-topic section or the roleplaying discussion section where people are always ready to dispense advice about writing. Enjoy your stay!
Welcome back to the Guild! However long you stay, I hope it's an enjoyable experience!

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟛𝟘


The first thing he heard was the sound, even before the impact splashed sand and dirt into the air where the beach met the edge of the forest. Nathaniel spun to see the lighthouse roof—top room and all—skid a short distance, shedding concrete and support beams as it gouged the ground. He surprised himself, more than anyone, by staring only a moment before whirling back around, sprinting now for the pier where the ferry floated in the strangest rendition of a holy grail yet. Orla was hot on his heels, running alongside the floating torso of Angel and lifting the height of the far end even higher, thickening the wall as she moved. Kelly sprouted more living trees, the hulking wood constructs bursting from the ground and the steaming wall itself to overwhelm the students on the other side, stepping on the burning embers of their comrades without a trace of pain. They marched mindlessly, footsteps a drumbeat to the roaring rain.

Ian took the earth around him and raised a cutting sandstorm, the particles whirling quickly enough to nick the wood of the trees they surrounded, sending a tidal wave of moving sand over the wall to bolster the attack, replacing what sand had initially been weighed down by the rain. The particulate matter nicked and scraped at skin, lodging into clothes and orifices and moving still, vicious in their determination to rend at exposed skin like sandpaper.

Far ahead of Nathaniel, Thi’s flesh had parted across all her limbs like shredded rags, revealing the hideous augmentations of metals and magic that propelled her forward across the wet sand at a pace faster than any human could ever achieve. She was already at the ferry by the time the lighthouse’s head landed, the decapitated building hardly fazing her.

She would have left without them, too, Nathaniel knew, if he wasn’t the one carrying their trophy. The orb pulsed violently over his shoulder as he ran, flattening the earth in front of him to make movement easier and manipulating his legs even when they tired quickly of the breakneck speed. Orla raised the barricades behind them, too, fencing out any potential pursuers.

Flashes of fire from the dragon in the sky burned another wave of trees that stumbled forward a moment longer before crumbling to ashes, but more and more came, their numbers absurd, like a colony of ants. Zoe’s rot held them at bay, spreading like lightning except where the dragon’s fire burned too quickly for the infection to spread further. Around the students the trees melted to sludge, black ichor where they once stood, their endless progress kept at bay only by the sheer monstrosity of the powers they faced. And still more came, dying as quickly as they appeared, but the rate of creation and decay zeroed out and not in the students’ favor.

The wounded shadow beast recovered from the shock of the lighthouse attack first, clawing at the bright-haired girl on the ground nearby, the first swipe lacerating the backs of both forearms to the muscle and slicing deep into Callan’s legs. Misery, however, would not be budged so easily without its owner’s control, the monster weapon both subservient and defiant to its creator’s will in its own inexplicable ways. As Rhohan swung again, aiming to rip the wounded superhuman girl into pieces, a flash of an intangible, purple blade struck his leg.

There was no pain at first, only a dampening of energy, as if a switch somewhere had been turned off. Then the monster form shuddered and flickered, dispersing in a rising stream of jagged lines. The axe followed gravity, biting into a human, cutting clean through the upper half of the young man’s body. A heavyset man with dark skin and curly brown hair already soaked in the rain stared at Callan in his last moments, amber eyes wide in death and jaw slack in surprise as he struggled to understand what had happened.

But death waits for neither epiphany nor last words and the focus dimmed from his eyes seconds later, his severed torso spilling blood freely into the rain-soaked dirt.



Yaaaay, anniversary! Put your completed forms in the pad before the end of November (though the sooner the better) and hopefully we can find someone to make noises that sound vaguely like your character.

Check GM notices in Discord for pad link.
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