Lewascan2

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Hugh Caphazath Half-Elf, Monk (Way of Shadow), Level 3 HP: 24/24 Armor Class: 17 Conditions: N/A Location: Hayloft Base Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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Hugh generally observed. Looking back on it, he’d felt somewhat out of his depth this last little while, likely due to the fact that this situation was so divorced from his normal manner of approach. He’d done a fair amount more talking than he was used to as of late. In fact…

Hugh unscrewed one of his waterskins and took a long, slow pull from the contents, sighing in satisfaction at a freshly wet throat.

He’d been making a mistake perhaps, doing this, taking such an active role. The mission was important, but then again, he could likely complete it on his own. What did he care how these strangers risked their lives recklessly, so long as that didn’t threaten his own? Perhaps he considered the general loss of life a waste, despite his profession? True enough. But he couldn’t allow himself to be concerned over saving those that were too unwise to succeed or survive.

So, he was more than comfortable slipping back into the role he’d hoped to take from the start, a quiet, observant role. He’d allow others to do the talking where he could. After all, they didn’t seem entirely incompentent. His job was to focus more on seeing what they missed and infiltrating places the flashier ones couldn’t go. Staying out of the spotlight, ensuring that the fewest number of people possible associated his name and face with the rest of the group was better for his overall ability to operate unhindered.

The civilians would be delivering the carts to a proper stable. He considered going with them and then dismissed the idea. Meanwhile, Kathryn and Marita would be heading to the inn. On the one hand, he was more socially adept than either of them. On the other, that put a large portion of the group in a very public place and attached his face to theirs in front of a large crowd. And besides which, if the two of them screwed things up, he could just give it his own shot afterwards and afford the group a second try.

No, going to the tavern was not the way. Rather, he was far more concerned with the Bard being unguarded. Despite how frivolous her task was, she was unquestionably committed to it, and accompanied only by two civilians to an assumedly deserted place, she was vulnerable. Like her or not, throwing such a useful cog away and dismissing her value in combat out of pettiness was beneath him. It was only a single funeral on the first day. Ultimately, he lost little by being cautious and ensuring she was alive and useful for the rest of the mission.

Their mission was compromised. It was so easy to forget this important, absolute fact. Everyone else had seemingly dismissed the issue, but Hugh’s hackles were still quite thoroughly raised.

Someone wanted to disrupt this quest. Assassins were not even slightly off the table, and he would be a fool to dismiss the possibility of their appearance at any time. So, as Victoria went to meet the returning civilians and the Tiefling barraged him with options, Hugh shook his head.

“That’s all well and good, preferable even,” he sighed, “but I will be keeping watch over the funeral and our Bard. No sense putting her at risk, when we know for a fact that this mission has been compromised from the start.” Rolling his jaw, he frowned and spoke quietly enough to avoid the potential prying ears of the others. “You’re best off going with Kathryn. We both know that I don’t like you, for better or worse. You’re the type of person that grates at me the most, but I can acknowledge your savvy in social matters… something our more well-armored fellows don’t have. In a rowdy tavern, I think you’ll shine well enough to cover for any egregious missteps on their part.” Sighing, he finished, “Just don’t go anywhere alone, is what I’m saying, at the end of it all. You can come along, and I’d be alright with investigating those places afterwards -assuming we have time, but I think you’re best placed with them.” He gave a brief nod towards the armored among them and then set off to join Victoria silently.

Royal Rumble: Rumble over the Heavens

Chinami Nadakai

Dr. Nightman -rather tactfully, Chinami thought- seemed to completely ignore the whole "king complex" thing. Probably a good idea all things considered; that was some lofty and overarching ambition to poke at, and someone who actually had some implied inkling that they thought they could obtain it was quite likely to be... passionate in that conviction. It was also, notably, one of -if not the only- aspect of the boy's speech that he did not offer some platitude or counterstatement for. He wanted the throne of Izumo, unironically, and he seemed to think he actually had a chance.

Dangerous.

Dr. Nightman instead focused on the topic of betrayal, and -given what his letter had proven he knew about her- Chinami was inclined to think he wasn't tossing around theoreticals in regards to betrayal and even threats on the boy's life. With the context that he was supposedly a potential inheritor for the Izumo throne and Doctor's lack of contesting that statement, it was easy to assume that the boy could have suffered assassination attempts in the past... understandably so if his ambition was so lofty. Honestly, if the boy were instead content to live quietly like that one prince from Vauquelin whose name was escaping her, then perhaps he wouldn't need to be so paranoid. What it boiled down to in the end was that his need for paranoia was likely in large part entirely his own fault, assuming he was such a loudmouth about his ambitions elsewhere.

Of course, Nightman's words and tone -as graceful as they were in the face of potential bodily harm- were merely ultimately a deflection, one the boy seemed to insist on bulling through, as he pursued the "reviews" topic. Chinami would personally admit to a certain level of burning curiosity on that matter as well. Certainly, in the boy's place, she might had pursed that line of questioning just as doggedly. Just...

She would have avoided incriminating statements like this yahoo was throwing around.

One forearm lain over her eyes, Chinami let out an extended whine of a groan in second-hand embarrassment, listening to this warped funhouse mirror of a person, as the boy started going on about some ridiculous "protagonist syndrome" while making absurd and frankly untrue statements about what he'd rather do than harm his "friends". If he really was in possession of such a mindset, the last thing he'd be truly concerned about, at the end of the day, was the feelings and concerns of others. "Protagonist" did not necessarily mean "hero", but this guy -the way he talked- seemed to believe that was the case. Granted, if his delusion centered around being a "hero", then he'd be unable to uphold that delusion -even for himself- if he didn't at least pretend to care about others. At the end of the day, it was all self-serving bullshit; after all, part of his narcissistic gratification as a "hero" was "helping" others to begin with. The only reason he cared was because it made him look like more of a "heroic savior" and gave him more chances to have praise and adulation leveled his way to feed his ego and confirm his bias.

He wasn't apologetic about his faults. He was merely pretending to be, simply because that made him look better, look like some sort of "tragic hero" trope who was "struggling against inner darkness". He was a snake, a social chameleon, who said whatever he thought others wanted to hear while pretending that he was someone that didn't give a rip about the opinions of others. The only reason he was being so bold with the doctor was that he was saying what he thought the Doctor wanted to hear. The reason it all sounded so disjointed was that this little snake was out of his normal depth, and he was stabbing about verbally to see what stuck, to test the social waters and determine how he'd have to tailor his approach.

He was scared. He had to be. That was why he was making such reckless threats. She could even sympathize in that respect. If she, herself, wasn't so rational and fully committed to filtering her rage and fear through the lens of "will this ruin my future prospects", she might have fallen into the same trap of her own making.

She bodily cringed when he threatened the Doctor overtly again and began to glow gold, for more than one reason. It wasn't just the threats themselves that offended her; it was the way he was going about them. Threats were only good if you upheld them, and he had already failed to uphold the conditions of his first one, reducing the credibility of any future ones, no matter how tough a front he put up. His genuine fear and weakness was obvious to even the halfway socially adept. And furthermore, the questions he wanted answers to were somewhat useless. There was no way to prove them right here and now, and worse, there was no telling what the Doctor's Gift was.

The unknown Gift, assuming he had one. That was Chinami's true concern. Everything else was secondary. Was it spiritual? Was it magic? Was it just straight-up a mysteriously unique divine system of influence in and of itself like her own? With her own "Gift" as the comparison, it was easy for Chinami to be incredibly open-minded and paranoid about the possibilities available to any given opponent. More than anything else about a potential confrontation, this was her concern, the idea that the Doctor would have a Gift, one that struck at her own "Gift's" weaknesses.

The fact the Doctor still seemed quite unconcerned where he sat nonplussed did not help her somewhat reduced anxiety. Dr. Nightman actually addressing exactly that concern of "anyone being a potential threat" right after didn't sooth her either. Nightman claimed he'd been doing this a while, effectively that he'd "seen some shit", which in all honesty could very well explain how blasé he was being about all this. He simply wasn't intimidated, full stop, or if he was, his poker face was truly one to be respected.

The boy seemed to finally get a clue that this wasn't going to end in his favor and backed down, making some last empty concessions and apparently trying to turn things instead into a conversation between "equals" with a relationship of "cooperation and collaboration". Too late. Far too late. His threats had been empty. His momentum had been lost. He hadn't discovered what his potential enemy's Gift was -or even if they had one at all. His opponent had effectively styled all over him the entire way through and might as well have t-bagged him socially. Truly, the power of an experienced psychologist in their element was one to be feared.

It was the verbal equivalent of watching a soldier halfway through the training program try to spar a decorated general and seriously expect to win. You never fought an enemy in their element, and the little snake was too inexperienced to realize that he'd played into the Doctor's hands every step of the way. Chinami, for her part, had recognized the futility of such a thing from the nearly the very start and had set about trying to change the game preemptively, not that it looked like her efforts would be necessary.

If there was one thing her observations here had fully crystalized, it was the resolve to never meet Nightman face-to-face, nor to so much as engage him in conversation. As things were, she could... believe that he wasn't an enemy, not an actively malicious one anyway, but if she played his game, he could make things very annoying for her indeed.

@KillamriX88 @Letter Bee @Dezuel

Grimoiric Heart

Commissioned my artist friend to draw this~ The same person drew my avatar.

Picture

@Izurich

Epic.

Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP

Bruno Bucciarati

Location(s): Control Center, Paradox Engine.
Mentions: Ben @Mintz, Danny @Crimson Flame, Merlin @ActRaiserTheReturned, Terra @Dead Cruiser.

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As the Mysterious Stand was wrenched upwards and restrained by a telekinetic grasp, another light congealed, this time, for once, a woman, rather youthful in appearance and... already hovering a notable distance above the floor like the boy, which by this point was not so surprising. Brows furrowing and a fair shake more lucid than he'd been several moments ago, Bruno frowned at her accusation leveled towards the Mysterious Stand of "alien", his blue eyes narrowed. As she descended to the ground, the woman -Terra- claimed to hail from an empire that he most certainly would have heard of... if it actually existed.

Frowning, Bucciarati scrutinized her closely. Her posture was firm and confident. There were stirrings of unease only he was privy to, but regardless of the situation, she seemed almost completely nonplussed and unthreatened by any of the potential dangers in this room. Her tone of voice was straightforward and unwavering and her words unstuttered and unhesitant. On the surface, one could only assume she was either a consummate liar, arrogantly overconfident, or some variation thereof.

Bruno knew better.

He'd always possessed a talent for sniffing out liars, and this woman... At minimum, she believed what she was saying was true. That talent of Bruno's, perhaps it had always been something more... and had simply awakened to its true potential upon him being forced into a state of undeath, but he had grown to be able to feel the souls and thoughts of others. And it was because this was so that he could truly tell, without question, that this Terra was speaking from the heart. She believed -assumed even- that the Mysterious Stand was an alien. Absurd.

Or was it?

As Bruno paid attention to the souls of the room's other occupants for a change, he pursed his lips in thought at the potent prevailing cocktail of confusion, annoyance and anger... except for one.

Rattling off a shakily light-hearted remark at the old man's assault, the "Mysterious Stand's" own confusion had morphed into a combination of realization, resignation and then resolve. Bruno's sharp eyes and lowered position made out the Stand's tail jamming into the humming core, and Bruno's body tensed at the Stand breaking free of the telekinetic hold in a surge of renewed strength... only for it to slap the distinctive, hourglass shaped emblem upon its chest and fade away with a flash of green... into another teenage boy of similar age to the first.

Another extreme close-range Stand, like Secco's [Oasis]? The odds of that being the case with each abductee twice, never mind four times... was absurd. The fact that Bruno was the only odd one out -the only one with a humanoid Stand- of the five of them was simply mind-boggling!

Poleaxed, Bruno blinked and then frowned, as the boy landed heavily and staggered before straightening up with a wry grin, clearly concealing a limp. He called himself Ben Tennison... before making a truly absurd claim! And yet, somehow, as the boy turned a concerned gaze his way, he could tell for certain that this boy was no less truthful than the woman! As Ben approached him, the other teenager landed and introduced himself as Danny (last name variable) and made similarly absurd claims... with similar shades of truth to them!

Bruno's expression pinched in both confusion and pain. Were his senses failing him in new and horrifying ways? What they said couldn't be the truth, and yet it all was! What was this? What was this place? Who were these people really? He was supposed to be dead. Was this even real?

Could this be...

"-The work of an Enemy Stand," Bruno murmured aloud, brows furrowed. In the end, they had never determined the full limits of [Silver Chariot Requiem's] power over souls. It was possible that even in its death throes it had made one final gamble in defense of the Arrow. which meant that all this was... what exactly?

Setting his jaw, Bruno firmed his weakened shoulders as much as he was able, as he stared at the hands offering aid. In truth, he very much did not want to stand up right now. Honestly, that would probably be one of the things he definitely shouldn't be doing in such an exhausted state. He should be resting and recovering, doing everything in his power to avoid straining himself and making any lingering damage worse.

However... As always seemed to be the case, there was no time to rest and no place to lay. If this was real...? He had to be strong for now, to do what he could where he could. There was no use destroying himself to put on a strong front, but he needed to demonstrate that he could at least pull his own weight. Inhaling sharply, he grit his teeth and grasped the offered arms with his shaking ones, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Staggering, he reflexively caught himself with [Sticky Fingers], the pale humanoid's limbs briefly flickering into being beneath his shoulders to straighten his posture and allow him to lock his knees somewhat, before fading away once more to conserve energy.

The woman -Terra, he reminded himself- expressed her own concerns then. Though, they were marred somewhat by a ripple of objectively reasonable wariness and mistrust in her spirit. In contrast, the two boys seemed wholly unconcerned by any of those present, not even the old man that had moments before struck out at one of them without even a second thought.

Bruno opened his mouth to speak, before coughing briefly at how dry it felt. Working his tongue, he mustered up depressingly little saliva and swallowed, clearing his throat with a rasp. "My name is Bruno Bucciarati." He paused to clear his throat again uncomfortably. "I am-" His brows furrowed. "No. Rather, first, I must thank you for your concern and your aid." However little or unintentionally harmful it may be. At Terra's following questions, he frowned minutely before replying. "I was much worse before arriving here. And-" His eyes narrowed. "I can't imagine what would make you think for a single moment that anyone here isn't human. In fact-"

Setting his jaw, Bruno's expression hardened, blue eyes sharpening like glass. "My name is Bruno Bucciarati! I have long held a talent for determining a liar!" Wrenching his hands free of the boys' hands, he dragged his fingers firmly down their warm palms in passing and brought the digits to his mouth, giving a languid lick of the salty substance he had collected, humming thoughtfully, before gritting his teeth. "Before, I could only do so through tasting sweat, but I recently developed a more reliable method, and I can say for certain... that this is the taste of the Truth!" Gasping for air from his sudden bout of energy, Bruno hunched, and [Sticky Fingers] rose from his back once more, one leg sliding between his to allow him to sit on its thigh, while the arms wove around his own in support of him leveling a pointing finger at his fellow captives. "There is no Viltrum Empire, nor any other empire! The universe has never been threatened, nor has the world! Superheroes, ghosts and aliens: none of those exist! And yet-!" His jaw clenched harshly. "I know for a fact that every one of you is telling the Truth! Your stories contradict themselves, and yet not one lie has been spoken, nor deception attempted!"

His eyes narrowed upon Ben in particular. "You. I wish to give you the benefit of a doubt, but your prior form was compatible with a structure native to our mysterious location." His eyes flickered towards the humming structure in the center of the room. "When I arrived, you were the only one here..." His expression was resolute and straightforward. "I wish to trust that you are an ally. What do you know? Please, before we proceed further, speak quickly, that we might defang any hostilities."

Royal Rumble: Rumble over the Heavens

Chinami Nadakai

In hindsight, she maybe should have double-checked for traps on the filing cabinets beforehand.

Well, to be fair, as her Spirit's fingers deftly maneuvered the lock tumblers and extracted the contents of several cabinets, nothing actually jumped out at her. This time. Honestly, after half a decade, she'd gotten rusty, complacent. Life had been good to her, too good in some ways. Despite the frustration of reeducating herself, she had plodded along unbothered by nearly every other metric, exactly as she wanted. And that sort of quality of life ease was want to soften even the most hardened soul.

Point being, in hindsight, she'd made several mistakes in her approach thus-far, mistakes she hadn't been punished for, but that could be as much due to luck as anything else. She'd been acting irrationally; she would admit it freely. She was stressed and... angry. Furious, in fact. Chinami genuinely could not physically recall any event prior that had elicited such a bout a sharp, roiling and all-consuming rage and hate for another being, and so, she knew that she was biased, heavily so, irrationally so. She was looking less for truth and more an excuse to handle this is a way that was, objectively, absolutely horrible for her future prospects in living a quiet, peaceful life.

It was that acknowledgement of the self-destructive nature and consequences of indulging that rage that tempered her wrath, that stopped her from simply burning the clinic down just to be safe... and, admittedly, for the offense of wasting her time and inconveniencing her so drastically. Although, the risk of harming innocents had... not necessarily been factored out. She didn't think of herself as a cruel or crazy person. Spiteful and willing to dole out what others might see as disproportionate retribution, yes. But never truly cruel for cruelty's sake, especially not to those that had done her no wrong.

And it was that self awareness that drew her lips into a thin line and furrowed her brow, as she used her Spirit's high-speed perceptions to quickly flick through the patient files in alphabetical order, skimming everything but the sections related to treatments and prescriptions. She wasn't a doctor, so she wouldn't be able to pick out a particularly suspicious chemical on its own. However, if the files kept any record of an unusual amount of people taking the same thing with mismatched symptoms, then that could be a clue.

A clue that refused to surrender itself.

Closing her eyes, Chinami took a slow, calming breath, as her Spirit straightened out and replaced the files, beginning to lock up the cabinets once more. While she'd had the good fortune to stumble upon the nutritionist's office, the files that would have likely contained something out of place in the area she'd been most suspicious of were barren of useful information. At this point, if there were any place she'd be certain to find incriminating info -if, indeed, there was anything to uncover to begin with...

It would be Dr. Nightman's office.

A traitorous thought whispered that it would be all too simple to get access if she would just go to the appointment, but...

Exhaling in frustration, Chinami restrained a snarl.

No.

Not just 'no'.

"Hell no," the Goth girl hissed under her breath.

Even if she was wrong. Even if her paranoia was misplaced. No matter what, she would not ever allow someone to intimidate her in such a manner and threaten her present and future success! She, Chinami Nadakai, had claimed her rightful destiny of a peaceful civilian life through blood and sacrifice, had escaped the drudgery and danger of an uncivilized lifestyle and taken control with her own two hands! She had passed a mystical test by means even she didn't understand, a test that only proved what she already knew: that her way was the right way, the path she had chosen for herself, and thus, the Only True Path!

This piece of shit doctor, with his platitudes and prescriptions... he could take his concerns and his schemes and shove them up his ass! Chinami Nadakai would never submit to anyone that would rip her free will, her divine right to choose her own destiny, away from her! No matter their intentions! No matter their methods! She would prevail! That was the power granted to her, the divine right to alter the world for herself! That world had no right to demand she change in turn! And yet, even still, she didn't ask for much, didn't impose her will on others tyrannically! No! She had chosen to restrain herself, to live quietly and peacefully, adhering to the rules of society! She didn't pick fights or engage in violent vigilantism. She didn't abuse her powers to oppress others! She had done all this, done as any good, lawful citizen should, abandoned her dangerous lifestyle as so many of her former colleagues wished she would.

And after nearly five years of doing everything right, what did she get for it?

Threats, a massive invasion of privacy, and the abject humiliation of a fucking mental clinic trying to associate itself with her.

Unacceptable.

White knuckled and resolved, Chinami sent her Spirit through the door once more to scout ahead, spying a satisfactorily empty hallway. Unlocking it, the Goth hurried her pace. She had no idea how long she might be alone up here, but she knew what she needed by this point, knew exactly what she should be looking for. So, with that in mind, Chinami hurried to each of the three remaining upstairs offices, entering quickly and checking the name tags on each desk.

Nope, nadda and zilch.

Not one belonged to Dr. Nightman.

That confirmed it. Locking up each room securely, Chinami nodded to herself resolutely, dismissing the documents left unsearched in each. Logically speaking, if this were a trap, only an absolute moron would store anything incriminating on an entirely unguarded floor. Unfortunately, she wasn't lucky enough to be facing one, and she was merely wasting time up here. The real bounty -if there were anything to find- would be downstairs. Her Spirit, aside from its blue eyes, turned intangible to light again, diving into the floor, as Chinami started a hurried jog down both sides of the upstairs halls, prepping to start diving her Spirit about along the ceilings in search of a particular office. Her Spirit's accelerated perceptions would allow her to thoroughly canvas the area, even without taking a slow methodical search.

Her search was unexpectedly waylaid by serious paydirt.

Dr. Nightman himself, striding down the main hall...

And he had a patient, a brunette boy in green.

Tensely, Chinami cut her search and drew her Spirit near fully into the ceiling, carefully poking the eyes out on occasion, as she followed along behind at a steady pace. Honestly, she couldn't have asked for a better opportunity. If the Doctor was going to pull something untoward, she could witness it personally and intervene if necessary. All she needed was one definitive serious misstep, but... If there was truly nothing to be found? Well, regardless, a plan, a genuinely reasonable strategy, had started to formulate within her.

And the more she thought about it, the more she almost started to hope this asshole was legitimate. In some ways, to achieve victory in such a reasoned, rational way would be even more satisfying than resorting to ultra-violence, elicited even more glee within her at the idea up shoving proverbial salt in the wound. Chinami couldn't help a smug grin twisting her expression, as she truly considered the alternative, digging her phone out of her pocket and scrolling through her contacts to a very particular number.

Even if she had to go through them. Even if it cost her a favor... Yes, now her lingering doubts were laid to rest. With this backup plan in place, she would inevitably triumph in the end. And even if it inconvenienced her a bit in the short term, it would still be leagues less annoying than humoring this pathetic clinic.

The boy and Dr. Nightman entered his office, and Chinami briefly retracted her Spirit to unlock the room directly above it, moving in and locking the door behind her. Striding to the center of the room to expand her Spirit's effective reach to the area below, Chinami crouched down and sent her Spirit forth once more, peeking its eyes out overhead, shielded in part by the overhead light covering up their glow. It would likely take close and deliberate scrutinization -more than a casual glance- to catch sight of them... or so she hoped.

Nightman and the boy took admittedly comfortable-looking seats across from each other, and Chinami had her Spirit pan a quick visual once-over of the room with its gaze, noting the sparseness of it all. Originally, she'd thought the general lack of decor and content was unusual, but then again, she'd never gone to a place of therapy before. Perhaps that wasn't something so odd. What did seem a bit out of place, regardless, was the lack of a clock, indicative of... nothing she could say for certain yet.

After a small stretch of quiet, the Doctor began talking, presenting his little pitch of the context behind his actions, to which Chinami frowned. Apparently, this kid was another student. She didn't recognize him, but that was hardly unusual. The Doctor's pitch sounded relatively reasonable... too much so. Rather, it was so well worded that she could end up being the one that seemed unreasonable for opposing it. In fact, now that she had a baseline for what to expect, Chinami would put good money on herself being able to successfully spoof such an assessment herself and simply get on with her life... She could get this over with, go home, and hopefully never come back again...

Yeah, fuck that.

Doctor Nightman could feed his assessment to the dogs. She wouldn't be coerced, no matter how well he put it. The more she heard, the more certain she was that either of her plans would work just fine. The only question was which one the "Good Doctor" would elicit from her in the end.

The boy began speaking, and Chinami all but choked on her own spit. It was... Okay, some of it was like listening to a disturbing funhouse mirror of her own concerns regarding the situation. In other respects... Holy shit, this guy had fucking balls -if nothing else. The fact that -if he was being genuine- he would just spill his whole psychology out on someone else at the drop of a hat, regardless of whether it was a therapist or not, was mind boggling to the Goth.

There was also the... interesting moral platitudes he was giving, that would assumedly rather sharply clash with his self-professed arrogance and king-complex. King complex? The throne? This guy was related to Izumo royalty? Him? He was either ambitious as all fuck, delusional or some fascinating combination of the two, but she could admittedly respect his guts... somewhat. She wasn't sure if to call the outright threats he ended off with brave or fucking mad.

Also, Prince Galand? The name strongly tickled her memory, but the conversation -turned potential confrontation- at hand was too important to ignore. So, Chinami, her Spirit wide-eyed and coiled like a spring, watched and waited for the Doctor's reaction. If there would be any early and definitive test of character that would inform her approach going forward... it would be now.

@KillamriX88 @Letter Bee @Dezuel

Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP

<Snipped quote by Lazaria>

Agatha just may be more powerful even than Merlin.

@ActRaiserTheReturned

Lol, mayhaps. To be fair, the villains kinda need help, considering the opposition (which may be set to get significantly worse with Morbius added to the scale. Honestly, at this point, any advantage at all is a good one. XD

Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP

Michael Morbius

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"It... It all sort of spiralled out of control..."

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Name: Michael Morbius

Nicknames/Titles:
Doctor Morbius
Bloodchief of Lineage Dragule
Hunter

Age: 35

Gender: Male

Affiliation: Hero

Personality:

Biography: Michael was born in Stuttgart, Germany. his father, a philosopher and mother a Doctor, he took more after his mother, growing up fascinated in the ways of science, he was constantly at odds with his father, who had always wanted his son to become a philosopher, this animosity only grew when, at the age of 13, he lost his mother to a car accident. His father and he grew very distant before he went to medical school and studied biology and biogenetics. His life seemed to be going in a good direction, that was until his first encounter with her...

Walking home from a lecture one night, he was attacked by a Vampire that beat him half to death, before attempting to turn him, before the creature could bite him, however, he was found by Rachel Van Helsing, the Vampire hunter, who slew the creature. After she saved him, he became enamoured with her and followed her, offering his assistance as a researcher. He and Rachel eventually fell in love and were married. Although Michael wasn't much of a fighter, he developed multiple new, Anti-Vampire bio-weapons for Rachel to use in her fights. He also got to meet other monsterous entities from across the world, some friendly, some not so much. One that they did find was a friendly Vampire in Los Angeles, as well as, in Egypt, a team of American Commando's made up of monsters. Eventually, Rachel fell pregnant and it seemed as though their lives were almost complete... Then one day, Rachel fell ill. She lost the baby, before soon losing her ability to breathe properly. She was diagnosed with "McGregor's Syndrome" which was thought completely incurable, but, after a bit of research, his findings brought him to someone online by the name of "HOI"

Michael and HOI corresponded for quite some time as they worked together on a cure and made some good headway, they even developed a stop-gap for stage one patients, such as Rachel, where they could put her into a medically induced coma and keep her under indefinitely. However, their working together was cut short when HOI stopped connecting and then, the funds that they were sharing in a bank account were frozen. Going underground in Greece, Michael continued to hunt vampires until he came to the realization that, perhaps, they could be the answer. Vampires contained incredible healing powers, he had never even heard of one getting sick. He managed to capture one and began to work on adapting the Vampiric genetics to synthesize a cure. But, without HOI's help, he quickly ran into walls. Specifically, he ran out of samples from Nora's advanced stage 3 and was forced to run tests on Vamprie Bats that he infected. Finally, he managed to synthesize what he believed to be a mutagen that would give humans the healing factor of Vampires, with no other choice, his first test subject was himself. What happened next, he had no idea, but when he came to, he was surrounded by a dead biker gang and he had mutated...

Getting home, he looked in the mirror to find himself horrifically mutated and with a taste for blood... Not wanting to accept what he was, a full-blooded vampire, he grabbed a silver stake and drove it through his own heart. He waited and waited, but death didn't come for him. He threw himself into the sun, but again, death was no-where to be seen. After some quick tests, he found that he wasn't a vampire in the typical sense. He was... Something else... He tried to correspond with several other scientists that he knew, but nobody was willing to return his messages. Those that were quickly stopped replying as soon as he brought the word "Vampire" into the conversation. HOI finally came back online and he arranged to finally meet HOI.

HOI turned out to be Doctor Victor Frieze from Gotham, a disgraced medical genius that had taken to a life of crime to fund his research into curing McGregor's. Victor did a number of tests on him and they quickly found out that he was something completely different. His blood was hungry and it didn't care where it got its meals from. However, it took in whatever desirable traits it could find. Before he could turn this to his advantage, however, Morbius found himself in more trouble as a Vampire by the name of Dracula found him and tried to convince him to become his new right-hand man. There was a number of scraps and scrapes with him as Morbius forged alliances and friendships with other monstrous beings from his dimension, fighting some of the other bloodchiefs together, as well as against each other. But one day, he found himself visiting Rachel and who should he find by Dracula. The Bloodchief took it upon himself to sever every link that Morbius had to humanity and he started by curing his wife by turning her into a Vampire. This backfired on the Lord of Darkness, as the newly turned Rachel attacked him. Vampirism is caused when a vampire bites someone and drains their blood. They inject a tracing spell into the veins in return, which calls a demon from the hell dimension to possess them and crave blood. Turns out that the demon that possessed Rachel was not only especially powerful, but also harbored a deepseated grudge against Dracula, resisting his dominance over him and trying to kill him.

Morbius and Rachel gathered their allies and launched one final attack on Dracula's castle. After a long and arduous battle, Dracula was defeated, with Morbius draining his blood, as well as the title of Bloodchief from his veins. The demon inside of Rachel left, dragging Dracula's soul back to the Hell dimension, returning Rachels soul to her body. Luckily, the ordeal had cured her McGregor's Syndrome, but it left her disoriented. She escaped the castle and went on the run. Morbius immediately wanted to go after her, but his team convinced him to stay and fortify their position. She was disoriented and would be in no fit state to accept all that was happening at the moment. Michael officially took his seat on the Grand Council of Bloodchiefs in order to secure his own safety and the safety of those around him, including Rachel. With that completed, he went after his wife.

He eventually caught up with Rachel, him convincing her to come back with him, that they could do good for the world with his new power and position, just as they locked in an embrace, it happened... She disappeared before his eyes. Turning to his allies, he saw half of them disappear as well. It turns out that, elsewhere in the universe, a mad Titan called "Thanos" had wiped out half of all life as a passionate guesture for his love, Death. Michael immediately went on a mad crusade to find out what happened, but quickly found out that this wasn't localised. He met with the other heroes of the world in order to discuss what had happened, with half of the other heroes dead, the rest decided to go after Thanos and use whatever magics he had used in order to revive them. The battle against Thanos was long and hard-fought, earths mightiest remaining heroes throwing everything they had at the titan and him easily repelling them using the power of the Infinity Stones. Eventually, with the help of another Titan, they were able to wrench the gauntlet from his hand. Morbius took the gauntlet for himself. With their allied Titan and most of the godly heroes down from the battle, he reasoned that his Bloodchief status (Effectively a god among vampires) made him the most likely to survive using it to return everyone to life. Concentrating hard, he snapped his fingers and... Suddenly he was here... This strange nexus...

Powers

Mutant Vampire: Morbius' powers stem from his research into adapting the supernatural properties of monsters into humans. Although, he himself is more of a mutant due to his DNA being crossed with that of a Vampire-Bat, as well as a little bit of Vampire blood, rather than the blood curse of Nosforatu, he nonetheless shares certain powers commonly associated with the Homonus Nocturni.
*Super Strength: Even at his weakest, he is still easily able to lift a ton over his head. After his power boost from Dracula, he is able to lift up to 4 tons above his head.
*Super Durability: Like most vampires, conventional weapons have little effect on his body. Bullets can stun him and cause him great deals of pain, but can't kill him. He is also incredibly resistant to blunt-force-trauma.
*Super Speed: Whereas not able to outrun a speeding bullet, he is able to outrun any non-powered human, his top speed is around 40mph.
*Super Stamina: Due to his blood being different, his body produces little in the way of fatigue toxins, allowing him to push his maximum potential for hours at a time, without rest.
*Supernatural Reflexes: Whilst not Spider-Senses, he is able to react to stimuli almost 20x faster than the average human.
*Acute senses: Due to his increased physical traits, it has yielded amazing superhuman senses. He can see in the dark, his sense of smell is better than most dogs, his hearing is on the level of a Bat's.
*Super Regenerative Healing: Although not as amazing as Wolverine's, his healing rate is beyond most any naturally occuring creature. He recovers from simple cuts and scratches in minutes. And, although not good enough to regrow internal organs, he can regrow lost limbs if he can rest for about a week.
*Claws and Teeth: Like any vampire, he must feast on fresh blood 2-3 times a week to keep his strength. To help him with this, his canines have increased in size, as has his finger-nails into razor-sharp claws.
*Immunity to Typical Vampire Weaknesses: Unlike typical vampires, he is uneffected by holy symbols, silver and oak weapons or sunlight.
*Blood Absorption: Possibly Morbius' most interesting power. His blood is hungry, it needs to consume more blood and is not against turning on itself. If he doesn't drink blood for long enough, he will die a very painful death as his body consumes itself. However, this does have its advantages. His blood only takes on the most desirable traits of whatever it consumes. Essentially, he can gain the powers of beings that he consumes the blood of. He takes 1 power from each 1 person that he bites and generally this happens purely at random. If he bites superman, he doesn't necessarily gain the entire kryptonian physiology, but it might give him Heat Vision or Super Breath or Flight. He gains no further powers from subsequent bites.

Absorbed Powers

A list of powers that he has absorbed from biting people:
Cold Resistance (Can survive in temperatures as low as -50 Celsius) [Mr Freeze]
Super Ventriloquism (Can throw his voice and mimic others with pinpoint accuracy) [Superman]
Wallcrawling (Can always find grip on any surface, can even stand upside down on the ceiling while maintaining this balance) [Spider-Man]
Homing Ability (Always knows his way to the New Mexico test site where Hulk was created) [Hulk]
Allspeak (Is always able to communicate with anything known to Asgard) [Thor]
Deep Sea Survival (Is able to breathe underwater and can resist upwards of 700 atmospheres of ocean pressure) [Namor]

*Bloodchief of Lineage Dragule: After defeating Dracula and dethrowning him as the bloodchief of his Lineage, he gained the following powers:
*Hypnotism: The weak minded can be controlled by maintaining eye contact. Strong willed individuals can counteract this though.
*Flight: Has the ability to produce a pair of large bat-wings from his back which allow him to fly at speeds exceeding 100mph.
*Shapeshifting: Michael is able to shapeshift into bats, rats, wolves and mist.
*Dominion over Vampires of Lineage Dragule: Any vampire that was turned by himself or Dracula is unable to disobey any direct order from him.

Weaknesses

Vampiric Weaknesses: Due to being partially vampiric, he does have several of the problems that go along with it.
Vampiric Hunger: He MUST feast on living blood at least 2-3 times a week. The main problem is that other animals can sustain him, but he must feed on human blood at least once a week or he slowly loses his sanity until he is forced to feast.
Garlic allergy: This one isn't strictly related to his vampiric abilities, he has always suffered from a mild allergy to Garlic. Ironic, isn't it?
Sunlight sensitivity: Unlike other vampires that explode when sunlight hits them, Morbius finds that exposure to sunlight makes his skin hypersensitive. Mild cuts that he would otherwise ignore are now agonizingly painful. Punches from some punk feel like being shot.
Ultra-Violet based weapons: Not specifically a weakness in the sense that they are a guarenteed kill, but more in the sense that he is equally susceptable to them as a human would be. UV based lasers will cut through all of his powerful defenses as though they did not exist.
Sense-Overstimulation: Having superior sight, smell and hearing can come at a disadvantage. Although sunlight doesn't hurt him, he finds it difficult to see in the sun, he also finds his skin becoming more sensitive during the day. Certain smells can overpower him and sounds that would be annoying to a human might be deafening to him.

Little Formal Combat Training: Despite being incredibly strong and having access to a reasonably large arsenal of weapons, he has little in the way of actual combat training. In battle, he rellies fully on his powers and team-mates to carry him.

Minimal Firearms training: He has fired a number of guns in his time as a vampire slayer, but he is far from a marksman.

Infinity Gauntlet: Probably the single most powerful item in his universe... Emphasis on his. Infinity Stones are the building blocks of his universe and have no power over anything that wasn't bore from his universe. This means that the only thing his Gauntlet can hurt at the moment is himself.

Equipment

Armour and Sword of Dracula: A suit of magical armour, with a sword. Both forged in the Hell Dimension and brought with Dracula to the mortal realm. They are each nearly indestructible and serve as a conduit for his powers as the Bloodchief. The armour, however, does not cover a lot of his body, only the chest, hands, forearms, shins, knee's and feet, leaving almost half of his body fully exposed. The sword teleports to his hand on command. The cape turns into his wings when he needs to fly.

Infinity Gauntlet: One of the most powerful weapons of his universe, with the power to reshape the entirety of his cosmos on a whim... His cosmos... The gauntlet and by extension the stones themselves have no power at all over anything that did not directly come from Morbius' universe. Using them takes an incredible toll on his body, so healing his own injuries is not really an option. But if someone were to take it from him, they could kill him and only him.

Other:

He seems a little powerful, so i built him in with an easy way to kill him. If this doesn't work out, i've got some other ideas.

@mattmanganon

HOLY BACKSTORY BATMAN! I see you put the powers in hiders to save space, when the thing that actually needed a hider was the backstory. The powers section really isn't that big at all. If anything, it's that picture size that is just overbearingly massive. XD
Also, if you think he's too strong, let the GM worry about what actually gets nerfed. The "nerf"/weakness you invented isn't even feasible to begin with. The Infinity Stones literally can't exist and/or work at all outside their home universe, and even if they could (perhaps due to something funky going on as a result of this whole multidimensional event), introducing those things to the wider universe is just begging for trouble.

Oh, and that backstory is complete bunk (even for the "reimagining" that this guy supposedly is). Morbius is Marvel, not DC. It's literally impossible for him to be in Gotham, which now sorta makes the legitimacy/feasibility of his listed powers suspect. This is a full-on crossover fanfic version, not a reimagining.

Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP

Ben is in an alien form rn.

@Crimson Flame

Yeah, Bruno has completely mistaken everyone else for Stand Users because he has absolutely no context for anything else, and he just thinks Ben is a Stand outright.

Post up.

Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP

Bruno Bucciarati

BGM

The chariot's soul shattered, and the king's roar of fury lapped at his spirit.

I'm leaving the rest up to you, Giorno.

B-Bucciarati... Y-Your body's still back at the Colosseum. That body is-!

Giorno, I was reborn. When I met you back in Naples... When I betrayed the organization... My heart was dying a slow death, but it was reborn... Thanks to you.

This is what true happiness is. This is how it should be. Don't worry.

Please give everyone my regards.

Don't worry about it Giorno.

I'm only going back to where I was supposed to go.

I'm simply returning to how I once was...

The eddies of his fading consciousness delivered a crystalized dream into the hands of the dreamer.

That's all...

Everything faded away.

(/._./)

Cold.

That was the first thing that occurred to him.

The ground was cold and hard. Smooth. Metal.

How... How long had it been since he'd felt? How long since he last... smelled ozone.

The scent of ozone, of fading thunder and static lingered, buzzing across his skin. He could feel it. With this corpse of a body, long since passed on, he could feel again.

"Giorno?" Even his own voice almost sounded foreign in his ears after having gone deaf, as blue eyes cracked open in disbelief... and muted optimism. His wounds... were long since fatal. No, rather, he had already been dead, and it was merely the life force imbued into his corpse that allowed his soul to cling to it for a while longer... to finish what they started. Giorno couldn't have healed him, couldn't have undone what had been done... before Requiem. But if the Arrow was involved, then maybe...

Bruno's blurring vision cleared after a languid blink to the sight of steel and blooming lights cast all around him, wires and cords snaking across nearly every surface. His body was assaulted by pins and needles, as he twitched and lurched almost awkwardly into life, limbs shaking with the effort. The gangster felt almost hyper-aware of the thundering heartbeat in his ears, a thunder that had long been silent, as he grit his teeth at the sight of a green and black figure.

A Stand?

Gasping, Bucciarati flopped onto his stomach, as many other lights continued to intensify and slowly congeal into other figures. Bruno sucked in a shaky breath and restrained a snarl, as he pushed himself to his knees, the feeling in his limbs returning intermittedly, almost painfully. He was trapped in a confined space with an unknown Stand User with unknown intentions. Somehow... Somehow, the transportation had healed him... truly resurrected him even. For that, if this person was responsible... He owed them a debt... if they were.

And even so, there was no telling what purpose he had been abducted for. While he would like to believe the best of his potential savior, intentional or not, gratitude could only go so far... in the face of a mountain of shit. If he had been called forth for the purposes of injustice, he would fight against it to the last breath, even in this brand new body. Despite that resolve, however... Bruno grit his teeth and continued to stay silent, biding his time, as the pins and needles died down at an achingly glacial pace. Realistically, he didn't have the strength to fight if it came down to it. He'd only just been healed, and he could barely sit up as is, never mind move quickly. He could summon his Stand, but it would take an unacceptable toll upon him at this time. The only choice... was to run away.

Glancing around at the other figures appearing, Bruno considering the situation carefully. While he had awoken here, there was no telling for sure if he had been transported like these others or arrived by other means. In fact, there was nothing saying that these new arrivals weren't also allies of the Mysterious Stand. In that case... in the case of hostility... he could only use all of his strength to flee, to open a zipper through the floor and fall in. Hunching onto elbows and knees, half strategically and half in unmitigated exhaustion, Bruno's soul coiled and vibrated beneath his skin, his spectral partner prepared to act at a moment's notice, as he watched... and waited for the confirmation or denial he needed to act.

The second figure to fully form (or perhaps they had been there all along, and his struggling senses had merely missed him), an older teenage boy, made statements of confusion. His grievances were... simple but understandable for a youth, but in this situation-

Bruno startled at the appearance of two rings, rings that brought forth an... almost lackluster transformation, like merely switching the color pallet and slapping a bodysuit on the boy. A moment later, the kid took flight, hands glowing with a baleful energy. Another Stand?! With an ability like flight and whatever that glow was, Bruno was all too thankful to see the boy presented as an apparent ally, even if only for convenience. Given the boy's statements, it was clear he'd been abducted against his will as well. Unfortunately, Bruno couldn't very well let the boy fight alone if things devolved. His body was weak but... not entirely helpless. If it came down to it, he could observe the potential enemy, identify their weaknesses and an opportunity, and expend what little energy he had for a singular blow that would turn the tide.

Before anything could be done in that direction, one way or the other, a third light finished depositing its charge... a very angry old man... who was also a Stand User... if the near-immediate ripple of force that ripped towards the Mysterious Stand was any clue. It was lucky Bruno was so weak, because he might have broken a tooth from how hard he was grinding his teeth, as he struggled to decide upon which side of the aisle he'd place his bets and commit his flagging power behind.

Was everyone who'd been captured a Stand User?!

---

---

B O N E S A W

BGM

“Hurry. You have time. You can fix her, can’t you?”

She was tired. So very, very tired... Of saving Mommy... of saving Daddy, of saving Drew, of saving Muffles... Of having her work undone each time and coming back to find even more work than the last. For hours. So many hours. She didn't know how many.

“Come on,” came the whisper. “You can do it. Don’t you love your mommy?”

Mommy's face was more stitches than anything else, and she was so very tired.

"No." She...

"No?"

"I don't love her." She was such a bad girl.

“Alrighty. Say goodbye, then.”

"Goodbye, Mommy."

Mommy responded silently, but she knew what Mommy said.

It took far, far too long for Mommy to die while she watched. And then, eventually... there was no more Mommy, just a machine of flesh and blood that was winding down. Just... meat, no Mommy... because of a bad girl. But Mommy had told her to be good. So, from now on... she’d be polite and cheerful and she’d do her chores and she would mind her manners and she’d eat all of her dinner and she’d keep her hair nice and she wouldn’t swear. She do all that and more, and when she did...

She'd be a very Good Girl.

(/._./)

The all too familiar nightmare faded in a sudden blaze of light, and Riley faded with it.

Appearing in a small freefall from a sleeping position, it was Bonesaw's smart and squeaky-clean black dress shoes that padded down into thick, vibrant grass after an abrupt, midair near 180 of the young girl's spine. The barely perceptible sound of her own muscles creaking, as her torso rotated back into proper alignment, sounded wonderfully ominous in the blonde's enhanced ears, not that she expected the armored lunk before her to hear it, as a cherubic, deceptively pleasant smile crossed her expression, her hands folding demurely over the front of her unstained dress and apron. After all, when possible, she was hardly going to sleep without changing after a hard day's bloody work. She wasn't a savage.

Nor was she anything close to the affable image she presented.

Her hands were folded over her apron only so that she could do inventory on the surgical tools within the front pocket. Needle case, string, bandages, wire, hooks, spare vials, several vials filled with either delightfully unpleasant chemicals or medical concoctions, scalpel set and, of course, her namesake. In the meanwhile, her pings for her spider boxes were receiving no response, which elicited a light pout. It did appear that she was bereft of the majority of her better tools. Someone was going to hurt for that.

In more positive news, her pre-fight inventory of her personal systems had revealed that all her internal gadgets at least seemed present, functional and sufficiently well stocked. Mechanical traps, spring-loaded needles and venom venting systems readied throughout her body, as she double checked her berserker mode and found it untriggered even by the expansive green vision stretching out as far as the eye could see, which meant this was no Master/Stranger effect... for better or worse.

Gosh dippity ding diddly foodily do darn! she whined internally. Jack was going to be maaaaaaad if he found out about this, especially since it was likely all Bonesaw's fault for getting greedy with her craft to begin with. That annoying Lady in the Hat had obviously lied and broken into the Nine's dimension while she was sleeping!

Stupid really. Putting Bonesaw in the middle of nowhere away from the rest of the Nine? That was just begging for blind-fired plagues, some of the real nasty stuff that she'd saved for a rainy day when she was extra bored... and also just as general Mutually Assured Destruction weapons. Sure, a threat was only good if you were willing to use it -and she very much was, but that made things a whole lot less interesting in the long term, years of entertainment eliminated long before she could play with them personally, just to make a stern point to some very, very foolish people with big guns and bigger heads. In all her years, she'd only had to actually exercise that threat once, and for the world, once was more than enough. However, it looked like the lesson hadn't sunk in well enough...

Alternatively...

A thrill of anxiety and muted excitement crawled up her prehensile spine.

Alternatively, the Hat Lady was rather less stupid than she looked. She had claimed they could break into the Nine's dimension now that they knew where it was. That meant they had dimensional tech or powers... There was every possibility that she had simply been removed from the Earth Bet equation entirely and dumped on some empty, boring mudball. In fact, as the other... less than heroic-looking individuals formed around her... that sounded more and more feasible by the second.

Bonesaw debated striking preemptively. Her poison needles could surely do the trick for the majority of these unlucky yahoos, but for most of her other weapons, her venom spray, poison spit, telescoping arms and acid-loaded fingernails, she'd need to get close. Even her poison clouds wouldn't be as much use without getting closer than she'd appeared, and going after whoever she gambled on being the most troublesome would leave her open to potentially far worse. And that aside, even something as simple as a fair wind might rob the poison clouds of their teeth. Oh and -double and, there was that big Tinker in the armor. Even if she got rid of everyone else, that armor could likely trump everything she could conventionally bring to bear as she was... unless he'd skimped on the air filtration systems, but if he hadn't skimped...?

Her beatific smile widened, all sparkly white teeth now.

She'd just have to play it by ear... Play it like Jack.

She'd talk and listen. She'd smile and nod and laugh and giggle and grin and wait and needle and poke and slice and dice until she knew where she was and who these were and who she was going to have to make suffer like none had suffered before and it...

...was going to be so. Much. Fun.

Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP

Ben is 16. Bruno is young adult of 20 in rather ostentatious clothing, who is currently struggling to so much as crouch.