Lugubrious

Phoenix Wing (A Fairy Tail RP-Always Open, Open)

Invisible Man has vanished off the face of the earth. It's particularly jarring for me since he's in three RPs with me, and all of our characters are linked somehow. I've PMed him but he has yet to respond.

Phoenix Wing (A Fairy Tail RP-Always Open, Open)

Indigo Afina – Treasure Hunting

The sound of her name resounding across the arena brought Indigo to her feet to bow and wave with deliberate elegance for the moment the spotlight lay upon her. After Sheldon pulled the crowd's focus to the next contestant, the Librarian made her way carefully past Hyun and Demetri to get out into the aisle, doing her utmost not to accidentally brush against the wounds of the beggar queen. Descending to the main circular walkway that lay on the arena's elevated perimeter, she awaited the pronouncement of today's special event, her favorite book tucked beneath her arm. So far, Indigo's image among the people remained rather incongruous. Some thought the world of her for her beauty and power, while a few feared her for exactly the same reason, and more than a couple -despite acknowledging her talents- still valued her less than the top members of the more popular guilds. No doubt this view stemmed partially from the humiliation dealt to Hyun and by extension all of Frenzy Plant on the first day. After all, if the warrior guild's champion swordfighter, a former queen cloaked in resolve and purpose, could fall so easily, what were the rest worth?

She hurried to the announcers box on the heels of the other guild's representatives, flowing in a regal but less than speedy fashion. Raising an eyebrow at the map offered to her, Indigo pondered what Sheldon said. ”One...violent?” she asked, clearly bemused. Then she unknit her brows and gave a short, bright laugh. ”Oh, 'violet'! Of course, so sorry.” With the instructions given, she left the box and rushed out of the arena, her dignified but nevertheless potent determination to win visible on her face and in her movements. Once outside the Doma Flau, she watched as Nolan of Phoenix Wing used his magic to call for help. ”You read my mind!” she remarked as she summoned a book—A Tale of Two Sons. Magic swirled around her, and before the eyes of any onlookers, eight copies of Indigo materialized, identical except for the book each held. Paying no heed to the extraordinary situation, the doubles quickly congregated to study the map, choose a place to visit, and then speedily head off. Only one Indigo remained at the arena: the carrier of The Order, who stood by the arena's entrance waiting for opponents to return and the subsequent chance to waylay them.

-=-=-

As she trekked through some winding streets, the double carrying the book Shovel Knight considered her existence. Many magics out there used varieties of the common 'Fake' spell to create false doubles of themselves for the purpose of deception. The kind of doubles made by A Tale of Two Sons were, however, very different. Its main character, courtesy of his dual souls, was like two beings in one body, completely distinct spiritually if not aesthetically. Because of this, Indigo's doubles were the same. Each had a personality slightly different from the next, which included self-awareness. Since the original first used her most prized book to create doubles so that they might wield her other tomes, she'd known about their self-awareness, and accordingly given each color-coded names. The wielder of Shovel Knight went by the name of Sepia after the shade of brown, and often thought about how much more solemn and protective she was than the original. These were powerful, poignant thoughts.

Sepia put them aside, however, when she approached the place she'd been sent to investigate: a local pound. Quietly she pulled open the door with her free hand and went in. At first glance, the vestibule struck her as completely abandoned. Nobody sat behind the counter, prompting Sepia to feel a twinge of unease. Deciding that the nature of the Games meant she had free reign to explore the assigned places, she pressed forward, stepping lightly and methodically down the central hallway until she came to the backyard. The moment she entered it, her unease turned into instinctual panic, and with increasingly disturbed nerves she gaped at the groups of dogs cowering in terror in the yard's corners. Before her eyes, something in the center of the yard moved, and from inside a dark doghouse emerged a terrifying form. While shaped like a man, he had sinewy gray flesh rather than skin, mats of black hair all across his arms and neck, killer claws, a wolf's maw, and misshapen demonic horns sprouting from either side of his head. Sepia could not help but shy away; an overwhelming sense of danger emanated from the creature. She gasped, ”A beast-possessed soul.” And in its mouth, glowing like a raging fire, was the orange lacrima.

Before Sepia could so much as garner her magic power, the beast lunged forward, and from the lacrima a jet of fire sprayed out into the air. Sepia shouted and the earth obeyed, throwing up a fringe of soil to keep the flames from raking across her skin. Over the barrier the beast leaped, and barely in time to avoid a blast of flame to the face Sepia raised a clod of earth to smack the thing's jaw. The lacrima soared from its mouth to the tune of a bloodthirsty howl, but losing its toy did not prevent the beast from attacking. To prevent it scourging her body with grotesque talons, Sepia hastily threw up a wall of earth on either side of it and pressed them together, leaning back to avoid the wild flailing of the trapped creature's arms. Harder and harder she squeezed the earth together, until the beast gave a final cry of agony and burst into flaming ash. Sepia shivered as the earth settled, her hand trembling as it scooped up the orange lacrima, and the dogs unclustered from their corners to give her their thanks by licking. Smiling despite the pounding of her heart, Sepia pet their heads. ”Good...good dogs. I wish we had homes for all of you in our guild.” Parting proved to be sweet sorrow when she left them to return to the colosseum with her prize.

-=@oblivion666@Caits=-

Over the heads of Zephyr, Carrie, Timothy, and Theodore, the sky suddenly went dark. Any eyes looking upward would behold a huge cloud of small black shapes moving like a swarm of locusts toward the little Zentopia cathedral just down the road from where the wizards were fighting. The cloud of fluttering forms descended closer to street level, resolving itself into a massive flock of bats. Just before the bats touched the ground, they dispersed to hang wherever they could find a perch, leaving only one larger shape behind. When the woman turned around to look at the others, stretching her large bat wings as she did, she gave a dangerous, fanged smile. ”Don't mind me. Just keep away from the cathedral. It, and any lacrimas inside, are mine.” Turning back, the holder double of Nosgoth, named Plum, walked jauntily inside, her wings brushing against the doorframe.

Once in, she closed the door behind her and took a look around. Resting against the Zentopia cathedral's back was a huge iconographic statue, with hands stretched upward in atonement. A moment later she laughed out loud at her good luck, for held between the statue's fingertips on either side was a violet lacrima. ”Two in one! Looks like today's my lucky day. I get to complete my mission for the Mistress, and to deny an enemy a treasure!” Flapping her wings vigorously, she shot up to the right hand, removed the lacrima, and secured it within a pocket. She wasted no time in heading over to the other one, clawlike fingernails extended to snatch the extra lacrima for her own.

-=@Hatakekuro=-

Jumping from roof to roof with eyes peeled, Nolan would hardly be able to avoid spotting Indigo walking briskly along on a street below. At least, she seemed like Indigo; this woman's physical features matched hers exactly, but the way she carried herself came across as totally different, like a twin with a different personality. This Indigo hustled along looking at the ground, with a downcast faced and nearly-closed eyes, hunched over slightly with her arms pressed close to her body as they clutched a yellow-spined book. If Nolan followed her, he'd end up at one of the many Crocus parks, this one host to a sizable pond. This Indigo -better known as Straw judging by the book she held, Seven Days to Die approached the edge of the water seeming more disconsolate than previous.

”Of course...” she murmured, her voice soft but filled with an unnatural despair. ”All the places, and it's in the middle of the pond.” Following her gaze, an onlooker might be able to spot the glint of a yellow lacrima lodged in the pond's muddy bottom. Straw tentatively opened her book and began reading. Before long, the ambient temperature in the area began to rise dramatically, but more so directly around the pond than anywhere else. Wielding focused heart, Straw began to evaporate the water, so that she might walk across a dry slope and pull the lacrima from the dust. It was slow going but required intense concentration, meaning that an interloper might very well go unnoticed.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

I believe I have become inadequate for this RP… If I look a what posts people put out regularly, I just can't…
Stupid English-not-being-my-native-language thing…
I feel I'm not good enough for this RP… and don't tell me otherwise, I know you want longer and better posts from me, well those of you who still sorta care, at least.

@PyroDash888

Don't tell me what I want and what I think. The thing I want most is for people to be committed to my RP. Were you around when Jangel was? He barely even posted by free standards, but I let him stay because he seemed to be enjoying himself and I would really like it if there was some sort of continuity.

What's with 'don't tell me otherwise' and 'those of you still care'? On what occasion are you accusatory and resistant to help? Is it pride?

Now you've read everything that people have said. All good points, dealing with everything you brought up. People have told you otherwise because they care, hopefully dispelling any illusions you might have about the nature of this rp. The only reasons you can quit now are for lack of commitment under the guise of inadequacy, or hubris. Are you going to persist in this nonsense or jump back in with some friends and have fun?

Character Crossover Crisis City (C4 Reboot)

I think a roll call might be in order.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Hearts, don't overreact. Seraphs, cool it. This is the best way we could think of to get Priscilla back while explaining her absence. I haven't explained what happened to Greyson and Daniel at all; the only thing established is that Robert hasn't been made aware of anything. We can iron out the kinks and your twisted panties later.

Phoenix Wing (A Fairy Tail RP-Always Open, Open)

Is there a list of places to investigate, and what we'll find where? Otherwise, with every person making their own stuff, there might arise conflicting accounts.

Phoenix Wing (A Fairy Tail RP-Always Open, Open)

<Snipped quote by Zarkun>

I've seen that move so much, I speak flatulance fluently. XP

@Crimson Raven

With which orifice?

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

got a post up sorry for the delay I was trying to understand what exactly happened fully and I got sidetracked so thats also a reason.

@Suku

That's fine. You've beaten most of the other people on the mission to the punch, after all.

By the way, folks, don't jerk toward the Edit button, just thought I'd say: nobody uses Morse Code. It's a complete Hollywood thing nowadays.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Alright.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Abel Fulgurate

In a sudden fit of genius, Abel discerned the exact purpose of the earplugs the moment Sapphire handed them to him. Actually, since the first time the Siren's mention crossed his ears, he'd hurried to use his scroll to look up any available information on the Grimm in question, so by now he hosted a pretty clear idea of what the sound-oriented monsters could do. The abilities he read about chilled him ever so slightly; if everything that shone on the little screen before him constituted hard fact, the Sirens could not only sing to entice but also mimic human voices perfectly. Holding the earplugs in his hands, and bereft of any worry that the girl's earbuds might be too small, he resolved to not allow the team to split up.

When thrust into a position to actually enforce this, just a few moments later, Abel tripped over his tongue. The news of Sapphire's aquaphobia struck him as a major problem, of course, but only did her relegation of the guardian to backup leader truly floor him. Never in his life had Abel either been explicitly given or wanted to take a position of great responsibility. After all, his strength was his strong suit. In the realms of quick thinking, adaptability, planning, and coordination, practically anyone was more fit than he in his mind. Furthermore, it seemed that by doing this, Sapphire neglected to consider an aspect of his fighting style that a maritime mission would utterly flummox. He listened sagely to Gren's reply, nodding along for the most part but inwardly making a list of things to raise objection to—it was important to have one's thoughts in order.

Once the orc finished, Abel drained his tea, folded his arms and commenced responding. “Yeah. Sight'll be real important if we can't hear.” Despite the guardian's lack of enthusiasm for a leadership role, he seemingly let slip the caveat that Sapphire needed to be incapacitated first before he start fulfilling it. Holding a finger to his chin in the very image of inspiring contemplation, he continued, “From the pictures I saw when I looked it up, the thing looks like a big slug with a bunch of different horns on its head. If anything, it's as sluggish in water as on land, and sound travels better through air, right? Might not even have to swim. Which, uh, would be good, because there's a couple issues with me and water. I'm a good swimmer, but in full clothes and this armor, not as much, and then there's my semblance. Surge has, like, two modes: finesse, and ka-blam. One won't do anything, the other will fry everything in a fifty-foot radius in water, us too. Plus...wouldn't it really suck to try and open my eyes in salt water? Hm. Funny that the cat's the best with water, huh?” His eyes went wide. “Wait, that's not racist, is it?”

When Swansong arrived, Abel silently followed everyone else, paying a rapt and near-military attention to Captain McDougall. His patient ear absorbed every tidbit of exposition the sheriff could offer. At the end, the guardian gave a respectful nod and declared, “Yes, sir. We'll keep in touch.” For the second time that day, Abel crossed his arms and entered the realm of deep thought. “A cave. Well, we know where to start.” He cast an azure glance at Gren. “I dunno if we need to talk to the locals. If there were any big Grimm around, the sheriff would already know. The old lady never even saw the thing. Seems simple to me: go to cave, find thing, fillet thing.” An epitome washed over him, and Abel stepped back, drawing a curtain of impassiveness over whatever enthusiasm or involvement his face held. “But, um, I'm not the actual leader. So whatever.”

Brewing Storm

Already, despite the only setbacks being an uncooperatively offline door terminal and the faint, fleeting suggestion of a discreet adversary, the atmosphere grew slowly but steadily more tense. By now, only a blithe fool might expect that the Outlands Distillery held anything remotely pleasant for them.

Off to the side of the complex's main entrance lay a smaller building adjoining the main lot, whose large and legible but clearly weather-corroded sign identified it as the vehicle depot. Of course, with the main trucks and other utility vehicles outside, one might image this particular structure to be holding something more important or delicate within. Vague outlines could be seen inside a breakable-looking window, and to an especially keen eye, there lurked the outlines of a localized generator within, just enough to get the depot's doors and lights working for a few minutes.

Of course, Amy's acute senses didn't have just a murky interior to concentrate on. A persistent tapping stimulated her hearing, though its source turned out to be annoyingly hard to pinpoint—at first it seemed as if it came from above, then from an all-terrain truck parked near the giant garage door, then the tank resting against the distillery's exterior. Every so often, in fact, it might even appear as if several of these places emanated the tapping simultaneously, if she wasn't too busy playfully bantering with Lucas, at least.

A lucky minute later, the car battery lay on top of the terminal, conjoined to it by a mercifully all-purpose capable, and power flowed through the immediate system. While not nearly enough to budge the massive door, the setup -as engineered by Cian and Lorena- worked admirably to unseal the normal entrance. With this task complete, the terminal no longer posed as an object of interesting. That is, until a buzzing noise came from the inlaid microphone, punctuated by the flash of a very pressable 'answer' button just beside it. Either the ladies' work with the system left its communication feature malfunctioning, or someone was trying to contact the Beacon teams.

Defend the Caravan

Unequivocally focused on obliterating the caravan vehicle, the Death Stalker did not at all anticipate an attack from above, particularly one aimed at one of its two visible weak points. A shrill, bloodcurdling squeal filled the air as four of the monster's red eyes burst like water balloons, scattering viscous blood and an inky black fluid across its immaculate white mask. Instinctively reacting to the incoming threat, the scorpion aimed its stinger at Sterling, who -unable to change direction midair- faced an abrupt and most likely traumatic skewering. Before the stinger could even come close to piercing the senior's ego, however, Estellise fell like a bladed comet onto its back, driving her blade into the gap between mask and carapace with tremendous force. The Death Stalker croaked and lashed its tail wildly, clearly dying.

The less reactive members of team Jessant, unfortunately, fared less admirably than their comrades. The Tutankhamen standing atop the caravan vehicle, distracted from its prey by the noise and wind disturbances of the airship, looked up to see Jorie falling just a little too close. Snarling, it held still for a moment before launching into a vicious spin, its tail mere miliseconds away from batting the poor faunus across the wasteland. Sarina, meanwhile, fell afoul of a rogue air current and drifted away from the group. Rather than in a position to immediately start defending the caravan, she plopped right into a quintet of Nightmares, all equally eager to cave her internal organs in with merciless, rock-hard hooves.