LimeyPanda

Legend of Renalta 2 (Dark Fantasy)

yoshua171 said
I sat here for a few minutes trying to figure it out too 0_o

Much the same.

Uh...Boots? As in knocking boots?

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

I'll simply be asking for opinions, when I post them.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

It seems that my indecisive-ness means I'll present the group with two CS'es to choose from.

The Last Bastion: Bunker Chicago

The Crusader is going to bring his righteous flame upon the South-West block.

Kiku will await moderation before deciding between the South-East block and the central section.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

I feel I should throw in my 'I'm still here' voice. I'll post a character sheet at some point. As for whether it be a renewed character or not, I am undecided.

The Last Bastion: Bunker Chicago

Name: Kiku
Age: Twenty-Four
Sex: Female
History Type: The Pit Fighter
The world isn’t a pretty place and it isn’t going to give hand outs to anyone, no matter how pretty the face or how important the name. Your character spent a large portion of their time in an underground Pit fight ring, where they lived and died based on how they killed others. It was a cruel place to grow up, and it made your character a dab hand at fighting up close and personal. Down in the pits though, you die if you get noticed. Your character also gains a talent for sneaking, and sleeping in places that are harder to ambush.
Bonus:Increased Melee combat and Stealth proficiency, Penalty to use of advanced tech.
Biography: Kiku doesn’t remember much about her life before the pits. She and her mother were first thrown into the den of killers when Kiku was six. She was already touched by the gifts of a listener, although in those days, she was just called a ‘freak.’ Either way, Kiku grew up quick and grew up tough.

She only survived long enough to grow up that old because of her mother. Unspeakable evils were committed against Kiku’s mother, and the screams of her only remembered kin still echo in Kiku’s dreams from time to time. It hardly matters, but Kiku’s mother brought her ten years. Ten years of being able to grow up before even the young girl was forced to fight for survival.

It was hard to imagine that Kiku would be of any good in the pits: She was an untested woman, only just on the cusp of adult-hood. Even at the young age of Sixteen, she was considered beautiful. Her opponents constantly made a habit of underestimating her, and Kiku made a habit of driving a dagger through their throats.

The world proved crueller and crueller to Kiku, as eventually, her mother passed away in the underground pit. She didn’t even get a proper burial: she was just left to rot in a hole somewhere, far away from the sun.

Time passed, and Kiku was thrown into the pit more and more often. She wouldn’t have stood a chance, had people not continued to underestimate her. Even she knew that eventually though, people would take her seriously. Her pretty face would be useless against an enemy that respected her, so she had to use it in a different way.

She seduced a man in the pit: A legendary figure in the pit that went by the name of ‘Black-knife Brian.’ Brian was peerless in the ring, and in exchange for the only commodity she had, he began to teach her how to fight. Eventually, she killed the man in his sleep, without anyone knowing who it was, and then she moved onto the next best fighter. When she killed Brian, she left with a memento of their time together, namely the black knife he was named after. It was at this point that she started to develop a certain…quirk.

And so the cycle went on for a number of years. Kiku would fight in the pit and ally herself with the strongest man in the pit, so as to keep herself safe. When she learned all she could from the man, she would kill him and pin the blame on someone else. She was a venerable viper in the pit: a slip of nightshade on the tongue that enticed and then eliminated. Amongst the raiders that owned the arena, she was gaining a reputation, yet in the pit, she kept herself hidden from the public eye as nothing more than a chick who kept lucking out with a knife.

On her Twenty-first year, things started changing though. The pit was being more frequently fought in and the fighters were being pitted against more and more of themselves. One-on-One battles were being replaced by battle royals with a dozen fighters at a time. The owners were getting nervous about something, and that made Kiku more nervous than ever. She plotted an escape, but that was foiled by the raiders and she was severely beaten for the attempt.

The woman was kept in isolation, and beaten regularly. She knew that if she didn’t get out, she would end up like her mother: broken and screaming and abused and left to die. She feared that fate, and once again plotted for escape.

Her chance came in some moment of panic. A guard burst into her room, wide eyed and confused, and saw her as an opportunity. What his plans were, Kiku didn’t wait to find out. He shackled her wrists and began to unshackle her ankles. Before he finished the deed, Kiku had taken a knife from his belt and slit his throat. The blood fountained out from the cut jugular and bathed her in warm life. It was the closest thing she’d seen to water in days and she unashamedly drank some of it. She had been kept malnourished, thirsty and weak. The coppery blood was like some sort of golden ambrosia. She was invigorated by the taste, and she broke out, without bothering to clean the blood from her body.

The pit that she’d been trapped in since the age of six was in chaos. Loud noises were everywhere, and no one noticed a young woman with a knife sneaking through the halls. She made her way for the pit leader’s hall: a place she remembered being dragged to after the failed attempt at escape. Her hope was to recover her things in the chaos and maybe find an escape. What she found was an even sweeter prize: The raider-leader himself. A fat excuse of a man, she took great pleasure in eviscerating the live man who’d robbed her of so much. She carved her name into his body, as well as the name of her mother. She enjoyed every second and didn’t even notice when a stern looking woman walked into the room, staring at the carnage of Kiku’s revenge.

The woman noticed the ribs on Kiku’s spine as the spines of a Listener, and soon enough, Kiku was in the back of a transport, opposite Colonel Black, on the way to the Chicago bunker.

Naturally, with no other purpose, Kiku attached herself to the Colonel, as a beast might attach themselves to the first being to offer sustenance. She followed the Colonel wherever she could, and after having a full psyche evaluation, as well as some basic schooling, Kiku was allowed to join the BC security force.

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Technical Information: This information is your character’s skill sets and inventory.

Career Path:Listener: Those few that had the misfortune of being exposed to still unknown elements typically gained mutations. Without going so far as to call them inhuman, their mutations could be harnessed, and the evolutionary tract of their mutations could even be chosen and altered by the person themselves. A listener is, in essence, a master of biological warfare of the self: Evolving tools and weapons they need. The title comes from the fact that listeners can typically hear psychic echos of high ranking creatures nearby.

Listeners start with the basic equipment set, plus a series of mutations of their choosing. Be warned: People don’t tend to react well to some mutations, and the more mutations one gets, the more noticeable one becomes. As well, mutations can cause mental instability in those that gain them to an excessive degree... On the flip side, the more mutations a listener acquires, the better they can hear and understand the psychic echos of nearby powerful creatures. The longer you stare into the abyss...

Listeners start with two mutations within their Archetype, and gain more through using their mutations and gaining battlefield experience, as well as analyzing enemy mutations and defeating

Mutations:

>Chameleon: Just as this ability suggests, a Ghost archetype mutant can evolve the ability to blend in with the background environment, and even, through slight psychic talent, subconsciously do the same for their equipment and anyone or anything they are carrying close to themselves. (Stealth bonuses, defense bonuses.) (Mutation Effect: Subconsciously blend into the environment even when it isn’t necessary.)

> Predatory Instinct: This gives a Ghost Archetype a sixth sense that informs them when situations are ripe for traps, and often manages to detect last minute ambushes before they occur. It also makes the Ghost archetype harder to detect to such methods, seeing as how they instinctively know to look for them. (Stealth bonuses, stealth detection bonuses.) (Mutation Effect: Small spines grow on back approximately 10-20 centimeters in length. They do have nerves in them, which allows the feeling of air passing over them, heat and cold, etc. Akin to fingers.)
--Hidden in Plain Sight (Rank 2): A twofold mutation, this allows the ghost to retract and/or hide their features, generally with clothing. So long as clothing can fit, they can hide their true nature from regular humans until the time comes that they grow too powerful to hide their nature. The second half, which remains with them forever, is a greater chance to escape the sight of enemies engaging the Ghost, allowing them to engage from stealth, then retreat back into stealth once more. Enemies will have the tendency to fail to notice them, or fail to pursue in the correct direction. Some believe this to be subtle psychic emanations, others that the Ghost simply gained a lot of luck with this mutation. None can be certain. (Ability to hide true nature until a certain threshold is crossed, greater chance of escaping attention and going back into hiding, better at detecting the psychic emanations of other mutants.)

>Thick Skinned: With thicker skin that is made out of tougher materials, it becomes harder to penetrate. Regular melee weapons, such as bayonets, have a harder time piercing this character’s outer hide, and when it is pierced the damage tends to be minimal. It acts like Kevlar, basically. (Bonuses to defense especially to melee, lessens the overall effect of wounds.) (Mutation Effect: Skin will be imperfection free. No scars, no pimples, no warts, no birth marks, no wrinkles. It will look quite odd, almost doll-like.)

>In Forma, Quod Puritas: Having a closer connection to the mutants in the fog than any human could ever hope to have, these individuals have started to realize their true potential in the face of the oncoming force. They can now acutely hear and understand what the mutants in the shadow zone say to each other verbally or telepathically, and are immune to the horrible side effect of coming into direct contact with them: They cannot be either absorbed or burned. Situations which would petrify a normal person, such as the glare of a shadow wolf, have no effect on this mutant.

Wounds sustained are now rapidly healed, though this exhausts the mutant. For perspective: They can heal broken bones in minutes. This doesn't however render them immune to pain, which can still send them into shock, nor to blood loss, which can end their lives. Though notable their blood has taken on a somewhat lighter hue than that of a regular human, a more pinkish colour than red.

Unique Mutations:

>State of Veritas: After surviving a near death experience, Kiku's mutations took a strange turn in twisting her nervous system, and more specifically, pain receptors. It quickly became apparent that Kiku gained the capacity to disable her pain receptors and continue on without fear of feeling pain, though she has no control over this effect: It can occur even when she is uninjured and out of harm's way. Strangely, she can also see 'ghosts'. Some are real people having had real conversations recently in that spot. Some are just hallucinations. Nobody is certain how this is even possible. (Hallucinations, random failures of the pain receptors.)

>Razor Wings: One of the more radical mutations to be attempted in recent years, Kiku's new mutation was a result of her recent injury and subsequent extensive time under anesthesia. The wings are insectile and made of a strong membrane-like substance . They connect directly to Kiku's shoulder blades and are able to collapse and fold down to a manageable size when not in use: which also makes it possible to hide them. When un-collapsed, the new limbs stretch (from tip-to-tip) to a span of 15-feet. The top side, or Costa, of the wings are made of a dense, sharp carapace that slices through fabric and rope. The membrane of the wing itself is quite durable, although a bullet or a knife would be able to damage it extensively. (Gives Kiku insect-style wings with a 15-foot wingspan. These wings allow for short bursts of silent flight, although the action does fatigue Kiku very quickly) [Mutation Effect: She has wings, meaning that all clothing with a tight back becomes impossible to wear: including combat armour. Even normal clothing needs to have either an open back or slits, and be very loose.]

Non-Mutation Modifiers

>ARMed with Science!: Having had her arm amputated to save what was left, Kiku now has a mechanical arm. It isn't much stronger than a regular human limb, but it'll do. (Mechanical arm has obvious advantages, do I really need to list them?)

>Nightmare Fuel: Between her extreme disposition, mechanical arm, and morbid mutations, she can easily strike fear and terror into opponents she assaults. (Chance to cause enemies to panic and flee if charging them.)

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Inventory: Your character’s inventory. You may add as many miscellaneous items as you wish, within reason. There are some things added here already: You get to keep these unless they’re replaced by a different item based on your career path. (ex: Pilots would replace Medkit with Technician Kit.)

Weapons

Combat Knife: The standard army combat knife. A design over a century old still more than effective enough to carry on into the future.
Black-Knife: A longer-than average serrated dagger that is made of a black metal compound. The dagger has little additional value than the combat knife other than being a second combat knife.

Standard Issue Council Pistol: Your standard issue, eighteen shot clip pistol provided to nearly everyone in the bunkers and on most homesteads, to both civilians and armed personnel alike. This is based off of the glock-18 model, with some near-future modifications. Kiku has asked repeatedly to have a silencer installed on the pistol, but has been rejected on grounds of it being an ‘unnecessary waste of resources on an untrained agent.’

Standard Issue Council Rifle: Your standard issue, thirty shot clip semi-automatic rifle, based on the M16AR2 of old with some near-future treatment to make it a little more effective. Kiku rarely makes use of the rifle, as her expertise lie in a more covert route. If she is forced to use the rifle, it generally means she is in trouble.

Armour

Civilian Clothing: You wear a set of civilian clothing. This has no armour value and is thus pretty good to sneak around in, but, then again, if anything so much as breathes on you, you're a dead man. Kiku generally wears tighter outfits than most, having a preference for stuff that is easy to move in, whilst also not being afraid to use her…natural assets.

Light Armour: Standard issue armour. It's light weight and looks like it might be able to defend against a kitten assault if you hold it just the right way. Needless to say, this armour won't stop anything from harming you, but it may at least lessen the damage you take. The armour is the most standard thing Kiku has.

Medicine & Tech

Medkit: Your standard medkit, including bandages, stitches, rubbing alcohol, and more.

Radio: A simple radio for contacting others.

Frag Grenade: A small hand held explosive. Pull the pin and throw it into a small room for maximum effect, as it isn’t all that effective in a large area with several pieces of cover... Each character starts with two frag grenades.

Flashbang: A non-lethal version of the Frag Grenade, this weapon’s purpose is to cause a bright flash of light and a loud bang, blinding and deafening opponents. Each character starts with two flashbangs.

Miscellaneous

Anything that is just excess fluff in most situations, like dog-tags, or a watch.

Dog-Tags: A way to identify your horrible mangled corpse. Congratulations! At least you won't die forgotten mister... Uh... What was your name again?

Standard Watch: Your standard wrist watch, likely powered by gears and springs as in old clockwork, only compartmentalized to fit on the wrist.

Flash-Light: Useful in dark places. Often mounted on a shoulder or duct-taped to a weapon.

Signature: I agree to allow Brovo to murder Kiku in as brutal and violent a way as he sees fit. Be it at the hands of a murderous mutated monstrosity or a raunchy Raider rave. Hell, I don’t even mind if it is at the hands of Vlad, who has Camo. Signed, LimeyPanda

Legend of Renalta 2 (Dark Fantasy)

Here Cometh The Wolves- Jellial, the Wind

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Jellial could hardly ignore the unrecognised figure of the small creature called ‘Pinkie.’ Jellial would have to be blind to not noticed the piercing glares the rat-man gave him: so laced with contempt and hatred and…jealousy? He tried very hard to hide the smirk at the realisation for the rat-beast’s dislike towards him. Maylene was not without her fans, it seemed.

The circling round was not an uncommon tactic for dealing with tails and followers, and Jellial was a little surprised in himself for not noticing it or even expecting it. Pinkie’s act of scurrying off was more than a little disconcerting, but then again, so was his return. The stench was not one that Jellial enjoyed, and the sudden gust of wind that ever-so conveniently blew the smell of rot and sewer away from the group was a blessed welcome. When Maylene inevitably turned on him to react to the sudden use of magic, Jellial would give off only his most innocent of smiles.

They eventually reached the beginnings of a new entrance to the pack’s den. Jellial was unsure of this new sewer-entrance, as his sense of smell caused an almost painful overwhelming of the nose. A vicious assault of rancid scents was enough to put Jellial off the thought of anything so romantic as time alone with Maylene.

Jellial started to work on a new bit of magic, calling again, on the wind school he was named after. At the top of the tunnel’s entrance, the spell seemed to fill the air with a small bubble of wind that expanded into a sphere: Ten foot cubed and filled with the frequent scent of fresh, crisp, Tulerian air. ”You’ll have to forgive me, Pustin, I’m afraid my nose wouldn’t be able to deal with a sewer.” Jellial’s face broke into a smirk as he heard the muted mutterings of the rat-man. No doubt insults hurled at the man almost as offensive as Pinkie’s scent. The group were led into the sewer, and from the curling of Esyllt’s nose, he was glad for the bubble of wind. No doubt, she would move closer to Jellial, in a hope to escape the scent…what a shame.

Filling the silence, Jellial let forth loose tendrils of telepathy that touched the borders of Maylene’s mind. He was gentle in his work, making sure not to be confused for Esyllt. ”I missed you, Maylene. It has been too long, and our time together is far too short and far too…crowded.”

A small smile flickers over her lips as her eyes seek out the figure of Jellial in the dark. "I've missed your company too, Jellial... It's been some time... But, I even if there were more time and less around, I think there is far too much going on right now to indulge in the moment." her eyes move back ahead just in time to notice a low-passage. She ducks down hand outstretched to touch the wall as guidance. "It is truly a shame, though..."

The silence returned for a moment longer, Esyllt broke the silence by asking Maylene a very interesting question. It was in regards to telepathy: Jellial quickly figured out that the more civilised woman amongst the beautiful pair had attempted to probe the wilder rose for information, and had promptly been rejected. Jellial cleared his throat. “I can answer that one.”

Clapping his hands together, Jellial felt the joy of storytelling flow into his veins. The decisions of what details to include, to exclude, to expand upon and keep brief: such were the story-teller’s right, and such were their delight. “Maylene has a great deal of knowledge and a great many dealings with telepaths from yours truly. The two of us, Maylene and I, are closer than simple friends. In fact, Maylene is the one who turned me.” He gave Maylene a knowing smile, eluding to the ever-embarrassing details of just how he was turned that he would keep secret, for now. “We spent a great deal of time together, and after enough exposure: anyone can develop an ability to resist telepathy.”

His face crinkled at the rat-man’s comment about lost souls and the feasting damned. His revulsion towards the rat man had another question burn at his mind, and again, he reached for Maylene’s mind: as gently as before. ”What hole did the pack drag this one out of? You say he’s been with the pack for years, yet no one seemed to mention it out loud before, especially near me.”

Maylene hesitates for a moment, her own gaze following the ratman and her lip curling back in revulsion. [i]"Not all of my contacts were made known to you... And he is of the... it is certainly fitting his beast form is that of a rat, should I say. Most only dealt with him and his ilk when there was no other means. Desperate times call for desperate measures, though. And when that happens, even the scum have a role to play... But he is not entirely bad. He can be sweet... Sometimes. And you get used to the smell... Sort of."

Jellial smirks at Maylene’s comments. At least she felt as sourly of him as he did. His trepidation was not unfounded. ”You are known to bring out the sweetness in men, Maylene. It’s one of your many talents.” His tone was teasing, playful even.

Her expression becomes disgusted at the idea of the ratman being sweet on her, or even considered amongst the ranks of men at all. But after a moment, she manages to smooth her expression. It was just in time as Pustin turns back and flashes her a fanged smile, and Jellial a glare full of distrust and a promise of violence were he to try anything.

With nothing more to say, Jellial resigned himself to following the rat-man. He was content enough, surrounded by the bubble of clean air and taking un-subtle glances at the backside of Maylene. He had to follow her lead, after all; might as well enjoy at least one part of the setting.

Legend of Renalta 2 (Dark Fantasy)

This is next on my post list. I'll do it tomorrow though: Because reasons.

Tally~Ho!

The Sinners

The thrust was good: fast even. It would have killed any normal person without a second thought and that would have been the end of whatever dumb-fuck had broken into the house. Sam was still unsure what this ungodly weakness was in the pit of his stomach: he still felt sluggish compared to normal, full power, ass-kicking-asian Sam, but it was still enough to deal with one guy.

Or it would have been, had it just been one, normal, human guy.

The transformation was more rapid than he dared think plausible as a hole opened up in the slimey-fucker’s throat. His knife passed through it helplessly and suddenly Sam’s arm was hanging limply in the air, useless and vulnerable. ”Shit.” He raised the shield in between the creature’s bladed arm and his own exposed limb, but quickly the slime’s intention was made otherwise obvious; it clamped down around his arm: sticky and wet and solid at the same time.

He tried to pry his arm free, but the creature’s lock on his limb was pretty strong. He made a few inches of lee-way as he raised his knee to slam into its gut. The blow hung limply in the air as suddenly black chains erupted from the bestial slime’s body and wrapped around his body. Soon enough, the monster had him hogtied and unable to freely move. Sam grunted in protest as the chains held him, squelching against his every protesting movement. Sam expected a counter attack: and was ready to throw a vicious kick at the creature: if it lashed out.

Instead, it backed off…

…No, worse than that. It was heading for the computer room and for the unconscious Sloth within.

His muscles groaned in protest as he exerted the upper limits of his strength. The chains were strong, but even they lightly budged under the exertion of might. He was taking too long, why was no one else going to help Sloth? He pushed himself harder: face reddening under the strain. The slimy chains stretched: loosening on the joints as they seemed to weaken.

Then they vanished into non-existence. Sam dropped to one knee in a fit of strain as his muscles protested the violent effort they had been forced to undergo. He allowed them little rest, and was on his feet within a few seconds. He stumbled towards the computer room when suddenly, Sloth emerged from the room, unharmed except for a slightly bleeding nose.

Sam was speechless. In shock, even. He had been so worried and struggled so much against the slime and Sloth just sauntered out of the room, as if the creature didn’t exist? Something was way out of line here. He clenched his fist as he felt a wave of nausea and light-headed-ness overtake his weakened form.

Sloth began a tirade of telling people to shut the fuck up before she stormed off to the kitchen again. Sam noticed a few wounds on his body: Lacerations where his flesh had been cut into by the chains. They may not have been metal, but the exertion he’d used to try and break free of them had sliced into him all the same. He wondered why the wounds hurt so much, when slowly the black ooze returned to begin the now-expected healing process.

Something clicked as he saw the black ooze seeping from his wounds, and at the same time as Sloth walked back into the room, clearly able to see the wounds on his arms reknitting themselves, truth that Sloth had seemingly reached already dawned upon him.

Motherfucker. We must all have gotten some sort of magic voodoo shit from the smoke.”

Listening to Sloth talk was enough to make his head-spin. Not because she was saying anything complicated, but because his stomach protested at its emptiness. He couldn’t deal with concentrating on conversation while he was this famished. He slowly got up and brushed past Emmy and Sloth on his way to the kitchen. ”So fucking hungry. I could just about anything.” He stormed into the kitchen and began raiding cupboards and the fridge. Anything not nailed down was plucked up, and Sam walked back into the room with arms full of whatever chips, cold meats and beer he had managed to liberate from the kitchen.

Beacon's Light: Rising - OOC (RWBY)

Isaac Markeel

Isaac listened to the crippled man in the bed, face unmoving at what would normally have been a heart-warming display of determination from his hunter-ally. Isaac had expected at least this much from the man who had shown so much strength: but he was at least emboldened in his ally’s grit and steel. It was a lead he hoped to follow, one of bold-ness and courage: that might inspire the other, less active members of the group.

“If you are worried about me being too nice, don’t. You are useful and strong: I wouldn’t want that off my team…” He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in for his own benefit, more than Rygar’s. His team; a group of individuals who would quite possibly live or die by his decisions. It was a heady responsibility. One that he wasn’t sure was best placed on his shoulders. “…Besides, I wouldn’t trust your prosthetic to come from one of the inferior manufacturers.” He offered his own lopsided half-smile. Something that tried to inspire confidence but probably just looked out of place.

“The other two seem fine, a little shaken maybe, but otherwise whole.” Isaac didn’t want to say anything else about his thoughts on the pair. They had hardly seemed cut out for hunter work at the start of the whole mess, but under pressure: they had performed admirably. Without their combined effort; the group would all likely be sharing a ward with Rygar…or worse.

“Have you any ideas on directions you want to take your prosthetic? I could have a whole host of add-ons fitted: add-ons that hide blades or make your arm into a cannon or monitor heart rate or maybe an add-on to control your fix…” The last one had been dropped in almost as a foot note, but Isaac’s eyes bore into Rygar. It was obviously the point of discussion that he’d come here set to talk about, but he was giving Rygar the benefit of the doubt. The drugs had been…beneficial today. That meant they could be useful, should they be controlled a little better. Imagine if Rygar had maintained the might he harnessed, whilst retaining full control of his wits?

Truly a force to be reckoned with.