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Who needs pork and beans when you have porn and memes. That makes no sense but it sounded good so f*** it.
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When you're having a slow day, waiitng for your RP partners to post, and you think, "should I start another one?" But know you'll just burn out if you take on too much...
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Yes, but that's why we love cats. That and they are warm and floofy.
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Go outside, it's winter. You'll be cooler than cool, I promise.


Facts about me:
1. I like writing.
2. I like cats.
3. I like RWBY. (#Yangbestgril)
4. I am 25 years old.
5. I have graduated college.
6. I'm trying to get better at drawing.
7. I'm a dude.
8. I eat far too much cheese.

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Most Recent Posts

With Andreim & Lise

Lise's shadows met the copies. It seemed an even battle, if not in Lise's favor. That was, at least, until Andreim attacked. The spike of ice skewered the one in the back, but the body dissolved to energy. That energy flew into the remaining four who suddenly surged back against Lise's shadows.

One quickly shoved their shadow opponent away and ran off to the side, trying run away from the area that was covered in water.

Meanwhile, the ice pillars that Andreim had thrown up to block the fire began to shatter. The fire thrower had begun charging up larger balls of fire that were now strong enough to punch through the ice, though it clearly took him much longer to throw these. The pillars now gone, the next fireball would be on a course for Andreim once more.

And then suddenly an explosion burst from amid the battle of clones and shadows. One of the copies had torn their mask off and then blown up. The other two remaining copies made to leap upon their shadowy opponents before doing the same, attempting to take the shadows with them.

No doubt they'd soon be replaced if they didn't find a way to stop the source.

It was a safe-guard. If a cultist lost their mask in battle, they'd explode so as not to be identified. The copies shared this, but had nothing to lose and thus it became a weapon. But it was a weapon that could be felt by some...

The Medical Pavilion

"Necromancer? How droll..." This new one might be more of a threat. He tried to direct the draugr after him instead... but it no longer obeyed. He grit his teeth behind the mask. "How unfortunate." Well, the boy wasn't entirely wrong. The dead and dying made excellent tools.

Another glowing circle was weaved into the air before shooting out. The whole room flashed as the current ran through it. The cultists that had been dropped by Ulf began to squirm and then pick themselves up. So did the doctor they'd killed on the way in. Lying not far from Kheraket's feet, he lunged at his ankles to try and hold him in place. The doctor's face was blank, eyes still frozen wide open. It did not seem like they'd been raised, but still they moved to attack. Two of the cultists were directed to slow Ulf while the rest rushed at Kheraket.

The Arena

There hadn't been many cultists in the stands. The few that had risked going out in the open were soon caught off guard by the gravity girl's abilities. Most of the rest retreated back to the shadows, forcing a lot of the reinforcing vigilante's to chase them out into the city.

"When champions fall, you instead call upon... children?" The masked man lowered his hand. The ominous lightning still crackled above him, but its growth stalled for the time being. As powerful as he was, he could see Alto's blade. An ability like that might still harm him if he just took it. He tilted his head back and forth, watching the small army of vigilante's spread. They would feel like heroes. They'd feel like they won. For the moment. "Very well, I will entertain you for a moment. You children like games, right? Survive for two minutes and I won't tear that ship out of the sky and bring it and everyone on it to a fiery death."

Well, if it hung around too long it'd be destroyed anyway.

Kakra stared at the floating heart, almost ready for another fight before Alexei announced himself. "I'm fine..." she grumbled. She then walked over to him and snatched the stone heart out of his hands. "Quit it, that's creepy." She turned it over once or twice, feeling the life still thrumming from it. Her grip tightened around it, but not enough to even come close to damaging it. She wasn't quite that strong anyway... yet.

He'd stolen from her, attacked her, tried to kill her... and then he'd mumbled some half-assed apology out of nowhere and turned to dust before she could get revenge and break him herself. How was she supposed to vent her frustrations now?! She grit her teeth and growled.

"You... you..." Her body trembled. "PRICK!" she spun around and just chucked the rock with all her might. He was a rock, he'd probably be fine, right?

Ivan was flung directly into a bird that was flying overhead at that moment. Wait, no, it wasn't a bird. It was Nidgardt. Kakra's jaw dropped in shock as she pelted him almost full force with Ivan's heart. "O...oops..." she swallowed hard. "I uh... I'm uhh... H-hey Gregor! Where'd you go!?" she glanced about nervously before running off in the general direction of where she'd last seen him.

She completely forgot Alexei was there -- him being invisible and all.

Kakra Remaining Time: 6m
The Arena

In the arena itself, a tall, muscular masked man strode onto the field. One of his massive hands was wrapped around the face of a limp security guard. If one were to trace the man's steps back, they'd find a trail of bodies wearing similar uniforms.

"Damnation!" Up in the stands, Gloria had been trying to make sense of things. Too much had happened, but now she had a clear target that outweighed everything else. "Adenium, make sure all these kids get out of here! I'll handle this one!" She vaulted over the stands, making the long drop to the arena floor unscathed. She quickly made her way over to the hulking, masked man.

He dropped the guard as he saw Gloria storming toward him. Demonic runes crawled across his skin in preparation.

"Well, don't you look... saintly-" The man was cut off, as Gloria wasn't playing. A spear-like beam of light suddenly shot down from above and pierced through his torso. Two more shot through his arms, effectively crucifying him. The beams of light did not actually cut through their target, but they did hurt and hold them still.

Holy symbols shone into existence around Gloria's gauntlets, like circular holograms. She flew at the masked man, pulverizing his helpless form. With each punch, a section of the demonic runes disintegrated. It ended with one titanic punch that blasted him away, crashing into the arena wall.

He slumped over, falling to his hands and knees. Gloria closed in on him again, preparing one, final punch to end him. Her fist descended, but it was caught, his hand gripping her wrist firmly.

"Such holiness. You think it gives you the advantage? You will find the body of one who has walked among them is not so easily broken." The man rose once more, towering over her. "What you hold is not a counter to mine. It is simply the opposite. It may cleanse... or corrupt." The holy symbols began to burn and waver, before simply flickering out like dying fireflies.

"What?!" Gloria couldn't believe her own eyes, it was as if watching the very nature of her being become nullified in the face of the very thing it was meant to strike down.

The masked man threw his head back and inhaled. He then surged forward and let out something between a scream and roar. Ominous, orangey light poured from the holes in his mask and the very fabric of reality seemed to buckle. Gloria was sent careening away, landing in a ditch dug by her own body on impact. The world seemed to spin as Gloria tried to regain her senses. She soon realized it wasn't her, but that something was very wrong with the area around her. She clutched at the icon over her chest and chanted under her breath. Slowly she felt her power begin to reawaken after what the man had done to her.

She looked up, seeing him a fair ways away, but within one blink he suddenly stood before her. Her eyes shot wide before everything went dark, his fist crashing down, sending ripples through reality once more as it did.

"Almost, sister... almost." Faintly still did her sides still rise and fall with her breaths, but she wasn't getting up again any time soon. "The next few moments will decide your fate, then."

He strode back to the center of the arena, the runes once more adorning his skin. He lifted a hand to the sky and burning lightning cracked above him. It was time to make a statement.
With Andreim & Lise

The empowered cultists were clearly caught off guard. Neither had expected the massive vortex to sprout from a mouthy teenager. One was caught like a deer in the headlights, while the other actually managed to take action. He split into two, one copy of him sprinting clear while the other threw the less fortunate member clear. The copy itself however was caught in the vortex, sucked helplessly into Andreim's high temperature cutting attack. The other copy seemed to twitch and then straighten up upon the other copy being destroyed.

The one who had been flung clear got up and a fire sprung from his hands. It was oddly reminiscent of the imp fireballs from the abandoned building. He flung two balls of fire at Andreim in retaliation. Meanwhile, the copy-man split now into five, one hanging back while the other four closed in on Andreim and Lise.

The Medical Pavilion

It was truly unfortunate for the cultist that the beaten and battered kids in the tent had happened to be a bit more mobile than he had expected. The second the door flap shut behind him, the inky tentacles wrapped around him, binding his mouth and limbs. He could only let out muffled screams as then the hulking, undead berserker rose up before him.

The silence was shattered as a shattered body was flung from the "quiet" room. The other four cult members ran over. One was almost immediately cut down as Ulf tore out of the doorway. They were like chaff, being torn apart one after the other in the confined space by the mad draugr. The leader remained calm, however.

"How interesting that one among you children holds dominion over the dead..." he muttered under his mask as Ulf charged him. "But... your hold is weak." He could tell this draugr had a mind of its own, however weak the threads of sanity in its rotting skull were. Burning sparks flew from his hands as he traced a circle in the air before him. As Ulf ran through the rune, he skidded to a halt. Burning cracks spread along Ulf's body, and he slowly turned about with jerky, robotic movements. "Do not worry children, I assure you my control is much firmer than yours. I will try to leave you alive... for the time being."

Clara narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at Christine's words.

"I have no intention of letting this parasite infecting your sister out of my sight, Christine. It is a demon. If you cannot remain objective in this situation, perhaps you should not be involved," Clara told her. "It escaped once and I will not let it happen again."

To Clara's surprise, Rurik was actually keeping the demon's attention. As far as actually fighting it went, he was doing just awful. His face was bruised and bloodied, but somehow he only seemed more determined at the moment. That said, at this rate he'd just get beaten down again before the demoness actually had to exert herself...

How disappointing.

Even Yuuto was struggling. Not as much as Rurik, but far more than she would have expected considering his opponent's weapon of choice was... a water hose?

Rurik thought he might've actually blacked out this time. The beating must have stopped before it did permanent damage though, because he came to soon enough. The demoness seemed distracted for a moment, she he began feebly crawling away. He made it a few feet before he just stopped, needing a moment to breathe.

He lay there on his back staring up at the slowly darkening sky.

He was trying to remember what he was hoping to accomplish here. He had a vague notion that he'd wanted to help Christine... and so what was he doing? There was a reason he just didn't... do things. You didn't get to decide if you succeeded, life did. And life always turned on you.

The fall hurt less if you didn't climb too high to begin with.

So what the hell was he doing here, half-assing it and getting his ass handed to him? What did that accomplish? Why had he even let Christine into his life to begin with? He told himself it was what it was when she would finally, inevitably, drop him, but part of him wondered if he'd survive the landing intact.

Knowing all that, knowing it was inevitable, why was he trying to drag it out? He was garbage and she wasn't. He was supposed to be OK with that. He'd wanted that safe, shallow existence where he'd never fear walking off another cliff. That was who he wanted to be -- who he was.

Even the demoness knew it.

And that really...



Rurik shot up onto his feet like a vampire rising from it's coffin.

"So... it's really you deep down after all, huh Kath?" Rurik stared her down right in the eyes. "Yeah, you're so far above me so it's up to you whether or not I'm good enough for her, right? Well get over it already, I'm not going anywhere. But hey," Rurik pointed at his forehead with his thumb, "maybe if you hit me hard enough I'll forget all about her." And then he shoved his hands in his pockets and he let every ounce of resentment he'd stored up toward Kath over the years show on his face. "But I don't think you've got it in you."

Rurik was probably more surprised than the demoness that his punch had actually hit her. Though, quite frankly, he was pretty sure it had hurt him more than her. There was a reason bare-knuckle punching someone in the face was frowned upon -- too many bones.

And then he choked when the demoness grabbed his neck and swung him about as if she intended to thoroughly scramble him. In desperation he tried to shoot her, but his bolts flew off in random directions, far wide of her as he was shaken back and forth. Before he just blacked out, he was able to focus enough to realize that he didn't have to hit her, just make her let go. He focused his energy and fired at her wrist which being attached to him by her hand, was a much easier target.

It was just enough to break free by forcing her hand off of him. He fell to the ground and frantically crawled away. He tried to fire off more bolts behind him, but his vision swam and those went wide as well. He stopped and steadied himself, finally managing to take aim and fire two bolts directly at her... but at this point he'd expended too much energy without stopping to recharge. The bolts were weak.

He probably should spent that time getting back to his feet. If he even could. He tried to push himself up, but his legs felt like rubber.
@Gentlemanvaultboy FYI, the rest of the Galbrek arc is gonna be taking place in collab 2 on discord. Just sayin' that here since you've been away from the discord for a bit.

Rurik really wished Christine hadn't done that. Testing the situation was fine and all, but why did it always have to be at his expense? He dove clear of the rune, rolling across the ground, a trail of steam following him. He jumped up, pulling at the back of his shirt to keep the hot, steamed cloth away from his skin. He was hardly unscathed.

He also realized a moment later that in his mad scramble, he'd practically stumbled right up to the demoness. He glanced about, but there was no help in sight. He looked back at the demoness and shrugged. He'd said he wanted to punch her in the face, right?

Well... he went for it. He cocked his fist back and aimed to let her have it.

With Andreim & Lise

People dove and scattered like frightened rodents before Andreim's charge. The crowds thinned but didn't disperse as he left the arena. There had been plenty of those who'd been much closer to the exits when they'd begun to flee and so had had a large head-start. This meant even as he raced down the street and around the arena, there were still people running ahead of them, either trying to escape on foot or attempting to get to their vehicles.

He didn't make it far from the arena before he'd have seen a flash of orange light, that faded to a dim, ominous glow. Getting closer, he'd have seen strange men in cloaks and masks. Some of the feeling tournament goers had unwittingly charged right into their grasp. One man lay on the sidewalk, neck gushing blood. One cloaked individual was picking themselves up off the ground. Clearly the man had been killed for attempting to retaliate. The others weren't so lucky, being dragged off toward the light-source, some sort of pulsating rip in the air itself.

One of the strange individuals, his appearance unique from the others who wore mostly the same outfits, noticed Andreim's rapid approach. His robes were pattered and had no hood, though a mask still hid his face. Lastly there was a staff slung over his back.

"Another meddler," he spoke under his breath, mistaking Andreim's pursuit of Katherine as an attack on them. He pulled a curved dagger from his belt with three rapid movements carved a shape into his own palm. He then thrust his hand at Andreim and a massive glyph burnt itself into the space between them. There would be no time to change direction. It flashed and sparked violently in reaction to Andreim's water vortex, disrupting it and dropping him and Lise to the ground. The glyph also vanished. "Quite the display... this one may be too much for you." The man turned away. He turned the blade against his palms once more and them slapped his hands down on the shoulders of two of his compatriots.

He then took his staff and slammed it against the ground. The glowing rip pulsed and beams of light shot out and seared into the two men he'd marked. They writhed under it, light pouring out of the holes in their masks. "Come, we must move on," the man with the staff motioned for the others to quickly carry their victims into the rip before following them, the rip shutting behind him. The few tournament goers still in the area picked themselves up and fled, likely saved simply by Andreim's appearance on the scene.

Thus Andreim and Lise were left with the two the man had left behind. Their eyes could not be seen behind the masks, but suddenly they way they carried themselves was like they were starving predators, staring down Andreim and Lise like prey.

With Diana, Michael, and Co.

A flash of light illuminated the maintenance corridors of the tournament. A large, barefoot man stepped out of a rip in the fabric of the world itself. He wore a frightening mask and wasn't alone, though he towered over those who were with him. He tilted his head back and inhaled deeply.

"So this is the epicenter of the latest activity... but its source has left. Very well. Go, their spawn have torn each other apart and are ripe to be plundered. I will give them something else to think about." And with that he marched off alone.

At the medical pavilion there was a frantic knock on one of the doors. One of the physicians left behind after Cel had left hurried over to answer. The door had a window, but there was no one beyond it.

"Hello? What the hell is going on today!?" He swung the door open to look only to have a being who had been hiding around the corner lunge and drive a knife into his shoulder. A gloved hand shot out to cover his mouth and silence him, pushing the man back into the room. Three more cloaked and masked individuals stormed into the room. Any patients who had the strength to move were quickly pinned down by them, while the rest could only watch in terror. A fifth entered the room as the physician was dropped like a sack of potatoes, having been choked into unconsciousness. This one had a strange, wooden mask quite unlike the others.

"I will prepare our exit. You, go check that other room. I believe that is where the most injured and most vulnerable will be," he told the first, pointing to the area where Diana was speaking to Michel. Only the cloth privacy flaps separated them from their attackers. "We should have plenty of easy prey."

And Elsewhere...

But these were not isolated incidents. Throughout the city, little points of light unleashed hell upon the unsuspecting. Some could fight back, but most were caught unaware. The world was filled with those with the power to do battle, but few had the will. The world had long become soft. They weren't warriors -- they were cattle.

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