Lady Selune

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Operation: Ground the Harpy

As powerful and independent as Reaper was, it definitely.. Lacked... When it came to tactical thinking and strategising. A relentless barrage of blows continued to rain onto Ritz even as she deftly avoided the grapple of the manequin-like stand, the skeletal figure snarling as he witnessed the soldier's faliure. When Disc One, Side A was played and the blows started to fall, Reaper's gaze would turn and fall onto his own ally. "You'll do," the stand snarled, a hand shooting out and catching the soldier's stand by the collar... Before unceremoniously throwing it towards the fake!Ritz. As the prerecorded blows slammed into his ally, taking another soldier out of the fight, Reaper would press foward, fist shattering the musically summoned stand with another cry of DIE!

With the recording dismissed, Chloe's taunt would be heard by stand and user. Reaper stalked forwards, chest heaving as if it was exhausted whilst in stark comparison the black-eyed user would stalk foward, raptor-like in his focus. As Reaper lunged towards Ritz, he would arc his jacket through the air, sending one of the crackling arms whirling directly towards Chloe's face.

With two soldiers already lost, it took the timly intervention of the dancer to prevent another from falling. "Haha!" Cried the ballerina, "foolish malcontents! You're nothing before the precise glory that is「THROUGH THE BARRICADE」! She is precise! She is beautiful! And most of all, she is INVINCIBLE!"

As invincible as she was though, Miss Murder's volley would find its mark, another soldier freezing up into stone. The numbers were being whittled down, but in terms of objectives, the Axis still seemed to be firmly on top. There was no inkling of retreat or surrender in the blank gazes of the stand-using soldiers, whilst Through The Barricade seemed to have only just warmed up... And Reaper didn't really seem to understand the meaning of the word 'retreat,' which ruled that right out.

Ravenloft, The Curse of Strahd Von Zarovich.

@Tsar Gatto

I was thinking of a forge cleric- would that still be acceptable?

Ravenloft, The Curse of Strahd Von Zarovich.

Ooh... Love a bit of Strahd I do. More than happy to pitch in!

A pleasure to meet you all~

@Hekazu

A pleasure to meet you all~

@Alethre

Princess of Tel'Quesir

Somebody's been RPing in a mixed setting of mine!

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate [Currently Accepting!]

Siobhan stood outside. Inhale. Exhale. She breathed through a smouldering stick of tobacco, feeling her mouth burn and her lungs groan... And her veins still and slow and her mind steady. She was still coming to terms with the fact that she could live her life... Normally. As a person without crippling headaches each and every day. How did one adjust? She had only been in her early twenties (at her best guess) when the pain had started, but now, closing on thirty, the idea that she didn't have to deal with the pain seemed... Wrong. Like a part of her life was missing. A horrible part of her life but one could miss the bad just as easily as they could the good.

She would flick her butt and stomp it down, turning to walk back inside Goodnight. Littering wasn't exactly high on the issues here, so she didn't feel too concerned about anyone finding out, and this place was already a concrete splotch against nature, so it wasn't as if she was ruining some pristine wilderness or anything. Nothing held her back- no sudden call from a person or tug of the moon, and so it was that she would end up moping through the rundown locale for the umpteenth time, wondering what, exactly, she was to make of life now.

Evenually though, her eyes would be drawn to a figure stretching- she knew the position immediately, because she wasn't exactly a stranger to yoga. When you were constantly moving, you needed a form of exercise that was low-maintanence and could be done without any expensive gym equipment. Pilates, yoga, even simple stretches, but it was yoga she had done the most of, mostly on her plasticy roll mat. Keeping her distance for now, she would just observe- if she seemed ameanable to exercising with others, she'd probably hop on in.

WH40k: New Frontiers and Promised Lands - A Rogue Trader Adventure

---

In a room left alone thanks to terror and paranoia, in an uncomfortable and cramped part of the ship, the only non-human member of the crew lay, her feet up above her head, and a lho stick in her mouth. She would reach across her dirty and worn metal desk to take her electric lighter out of its charging port, place it to her lip, and then squeeze down the button that would cause a tiny superhead jet of flame to arc out, igniting the end of the white stick in an instant.

Inhaling deeply, she would turn, her stomach letting out a grumble. As a mercenary, her single and only duty aboard the ship was to stride through the flames of kavaal, and until time came that she needed to risk her life, it was, she had had made clear to her, not only expected, but fully preferred that she did as little as possible and especially didn't show herself to the rest of the crew. Stil, she was a warrior of the fire caste, and until such a day as these useless gue'las delivered her food to her door, she would need to venture out to mess.

Her hooves clopped against the metal floor of her room as she stepped outside. Leaking smoke as she walked, she followed the protocol she usually did- gaze in front of her, don't look to the left or right, don't meet the gazes of the imbeciles that had hired her. Reaching the mess hall, she would get her slop quickly and sequester herself in the corner, eating it slowly. She wanted to do something. Too long aboard this ship, hidden in her room. She needed a shakeup, something to make her decision to abandon her peoples worth more than just her freedom.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Operation: Ground the Harpy

The man turned to look at Taras as the bullets rattled from his pistol, but rather than them piercing his form and dropping him to the ground, another stand had gracefully moved in front of him. In synch with her stand, the dancer performed a perfect pirouette, the bullets having been caught up and spun around its form. Swirling her hands about, the stand, a beautiful thing of platinum and silvers, covered in necklaces that spun about with every turn and motion would swish its hands towards Taras, the bullets thrumming their way back towards him.

"Oh, my apologies! Were you hoping to kill my colleague with that gun of yours? Should have used the time to run!" The dancer gave a tinkling laugh, her stand shooting forward in a sliding motion.

Reaper recoiled as the flurry of blows came its way. Raising up its hands, only the first of the hits would slip through, and even then the force of it had been greatly reduced. The rest of the blows would find themselves directed away by the stand's forearms, and as they did, Chloe would feel the skin on her knuckles begin to split and peel, rivulets of blood spilling down. It's user though would stagger backwards, the punch having knocked his sunglasses clean off his face.

Beneath the aviators, his eyes, all of it, from his pupils to his scelra, were as black as the void.

"HOW BOLD OF YOU! TELL ME THEN, WHO WILL REMEMBER YOU AFTER YOU DIE?!" As the stand shouted out the last word it would release its own rush, fists flying back out in a flurry of blows... And what was most curious was that there was pain before the punches hit- as if clutched between its knuckles were invisible razors.

"DIE!DIE!DIE!DIE!DIE!DIE!DIE!DIE!" Every word would mark another fist flying towards Ritz's carefully constructed form, the stand clearly too incensed to let out anything else.

As the stand went wild, the user would swirl his heavy overcoat off his shoulders. Fluffing it out like a matador's cape, a faint, almost electrical glow would begin to emerge from the woolen material, the fighter's breathing taking on an unusual cadence.

Despite all of that though, there was still the squad of identical stands to contend with. One of them was caught in Miss Murder's Spray, spazaming slightly, extremeties beginning to petrify... But where one fell, two more marched foward, raising fists up together to lay the hurt down on Kiara.

One would turn towards Taras, scanning him for where his stand was, whilst the final one stomped mindlessly forward, attempting to grapple Ritz down and allow Reaper to land the killing blow.

CONTAINMENT: Welcome to Facility B

The man looked up from his breakfast as other people entered. As the young girl approached him. He would raise an eyebrow at her, at her questions, and then drag a single finger through the air and towards the back of the cafeteria where the cereals and other breakfast foods could be seen. On his breast was a light blue square, and once he had made a gesture, he would return to his food, seemingly mute in his interactions with the newcomers.

Across from where he sat, the ripped and torn bodies lay, unblinking, unmoving.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Operation: Ground the Harpy

The German soldiers did something that should have been impossible. As the ball of needles was hurled out and Miss Murder's bullets began to rattle through the air, the soldiers ducked for cover. Rising to their feet as one, the lull in shooting would let the pianist's words be heard. "My oh my! I knew we had at least one stand user, but to see so many all clustered onto these fair lands? Why, it almost makes me WISH I HADN'T ASKED FOR BACKUP." The last words were spoken not by the man himself, but instead by a figure looming behind him. Hunched over, emaciated, and slightly bestial, its hands a bloody crimson, the stand would let out a scraping cackle.

"WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE THEN? MORE FOR ME TO RIP INTO?" The stand would continue to talk, and as it did so it stalked forwards, providing cover for its user as the pianist reloaded his submachine gun. It would reach the table that Tupolev had flipped before bringing its hand down, the appendage cleaving through the wood and splintering it like a boy done with a stick he'd found. "COME THEN LITTLE STANDS. WHO IS BRAVE ENOUGH TO STAND UP TO「THE REAPER」?"

The soldiers, having picked themselves up, would slowly, in perfect unison, stand shoulder to shoulder. A heavy, jackbooted thud would come from the front of the restaurant, and then, as if to declare that this had been a stand-exterminating mission from the start, their forms seemed to part, and from each and every soldier rose out an identically, construct-like visage.

With blocky, wooden looking joints and a blank face, it was a horrifying thing. They moved jerkily, nothing like the predatory precision of 「The Reaper」, and from beneath the sleeves and cuffs of their uniforms dangled strings, sliced off and left to trail on the ground or in the air.

"What my rather... unchained colleague here is trying to say, meine Freunde, is that you are all deeply, truly, and utterly fucked. The might of the Reich will crash down upon you. Wheras the icy winds of the North created the almighty Aryan race, our chilly gusts shall eradicate you insects."