Lugubrious

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Funky Fistfight Freezers

Hey! Anyone who wants to get in on my awesome NPC Stand battle, feel free.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

<Snipped quote by Lugubrious>

She would have more mobility options and use more strength in general, I think. She would also have another arm to support her swordsmanship so she becomes a lot stronger! It'll be less of a hassle to detach from herself on the long run, so overall it's a pretty significant boost to her strengths. It's like a whole new body part for her, I guess xD

@NarayanK

I would rate this as a medium armory upgrade then, though one pretty darn close to major by the way you describe it.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

@Lugubrious how many credits do you think it would take for sangue to upgrade her claw into a mechanical arm that contains a more mobile Apophis Claw that comes out of the palm? o-o (kind of like scorpion from mortal kombat now tha i think about it!)

EDIT: I'm imagining it to be very expensive but i just wanted to ask o-o

@NarayanK

How much overall would this increase her dangerousness / combat ability?

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Abel Fulgurate

From an early age, Abel harbored an unusual interpretation of the idea of 'stress'. Shortly after beginning his training as a guardian in Palisade, he came to the conclusion that stress was a poison. It built up inside someone who didn't know how to deal with it or didn't have the time, affecting that person's abilities and attitude, all the while slowly eating away at his or her soul. Like certain diseases, though, it didn't ultimately kill by itself, but instead allowed other malevolent afflictions to get their time in the limelight. Someone choked by stress might not notice an extra Grimm coming in at the side, or be so tired that a sudden gust of wind might blow him or her over the wall. This rather odd notion, combined with Abel's methodical nature, meant that he always took pains to alleviate stress whenever he felt it bubbling in his veins.

No normal person would have made a beeline for the gym after only half an hour of post-mission rest, but Abel did exactly that. His reasoning was simple: through rhythmic, repetitious exertion, he could shed away his worries like scratching away so much dead skin after a sunburn. Some people lost themselves in music, or in a book, or in the bottom of a shot glass, but Abel chose to run himself so ragged that he couldn't bring himself to think about the past or future. After arriving, he did not throw himself into frenzied exercise, but measured himself so that he could go for a long time. Jogging around the perimeter, push-ups, sit-ups, squats, crunches, balancing, lateral raises, stretches, piston punches, kick drills—all served to tire him out and help him forget. He became sore quickly, but after that became numb. The knowledge that such exhausting work would make him stronger and more useful in the future, along with clearing his head, sustained him, though he did make sure to visit the drinking fountain often. Occasionally his stomach troubled him for food, but he didn't really distinguish it from the plethora of other troubles aching his body now.

Eventually, Abel just stopped moving. He lay motionless on a floor mat, waiting like a salivating dog for each cool drift of air from the fan far above. Fatigue made every motion a chore, but despite the state of his body, the guardian was happy. Paradoxically, he never felt in a more peak physical condition than when he'd just finished an extensive workout. Though he moderated his thoughts, he absolutely felt as if such great exercise was proof that whether or not he did well in a certain situation, he could be formidable and helpful no matter what. I can do it echoed through his mind.

A beep sounded out through the quiet gym, originating from Abel's phone. He laboriously pushed himself to his feet to check the device. “Twenty minutes ago...?” he frowned, looking at his Scroll. In his singleminded dedication to working out, he'd toned out the sound that heralded a message's arrival. So Shiro wanted to go for pizza. “Sure, I could eat,” he matter-of-factly informed himself. First things first, though; as elated as he felt now, he also felt disgusting. He'd need to get clean and changed pronto before he could even think about reintegrating into human society. The guardian headed for the gym's locker room and spent a little more than five minutes in the shower, scalding away his exhaustion with hot water. When he got out, he discovered that Gren had replied to the group text and named a restaurant. Abel recognized the name and nodded in approval. Only after putting the Scroll away in his pocket did he realize that replying would have been a good idea. With that in mind, he whipped it out and got to work.

To: Gren Orchid, Kuhaku Shiro
From: Abel Fulgurate
Subject: Re: Good pizzerias?

Top. Let's smash it.

His finger paused over the 'send' button. Wait, didn't I just type 'Great. Let's do it'? Why'd it autocorrect to that? Shrugging mentally, he sent it anyway. The new phrase worked just as well.

The Three Realms War [A DMC, Bayonetta and Darksiders RP]

So this was a little bit rushed, but I hope it will tide you over until I can make a few edits.

The Three Realms War [A DMC, Bayonetta and Darksiders RP]

Mad World

@liferusher@zarkun@lazo@kapuchu

With interlaced fingers the first among Watchers awaited the replies of those agents assigned to him. Very little patience lay available to him; half of the queries he expected to be inane, and the other half he just knew would be attempts by the more egotistical members of his little tour group to mock him. He could understand disdain for the lesser servants of the Charred Council, since most of them commanded comparatively small power or authority but kept their inflated pride fit to burst nonetheless, but Panoptos wielded real strength and commanded real respect. With this in mind several of his eyes shone an emerald gaze on Wrath, the Council's sole active Nephilim and the first to speak up.

”Have you no faith in my abilities? Such a complicated and dangerous arcane task would take a troupe of magic-inclined humans, demons, or even angels days to complete, but I can have it done in about fifteen minutes. Of course, every second can seem like an eternity when under attack. Not balking at the prospect, are you?” In such a manner Panoptos turned the seed of doubt back around to land squarely at the feet of his questioner.

He did not bother rewarding the comment of Midori with a reply. Her meager utterance seemed more like self-reassurance or an exercise to make sure she understood than any sort of real confusion on her part, so one of the others could reply to her more or less rhetorical question in the affirmative if they felt so inclined. Panoptos, however, need not acknowledge it.

Now, the demoness called Lily brought up an intriguing question. Could it be that she figured it out? In the domain of the Council, its servants were untouchable. Even in realms that they held at least some sway, it would take considerable arcane ability to damage a Watcher in any respect. In a remote and forbidden world like the Undersky, however, the Council's protection did not hold quite so firm. Actually, Panoptos yearned for a chance to 'stretch his muscles', so to speak, and make sure he hadn't let any of his own abilities stagnate while he relied on his masters' protection. It would not do, however if one of the agents of the Council, particularly one of the more ornery ones, got an inkling of this situation. Panoptos believed wholeheartedly that he could take both Lily and Fenn on at once if need be, and he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that a truly nightmarish fate would await them should they betray the Council at any level, but like all Watchers Panoptos despised pain.

These thoughts swirled around in his head before he clasped his clawed hands behind his back and leaned down toward Lily from above, like a teacher bending down over a young pupil. The very gesture reeked of condescension, but Panoptos' tone held fairly neutral as he replied, ”You may consider it a test of your abilities. Of course, I could not be touched, but if my concentration were to waver I'll wager you lot would be unhappy indeed with the results. So try not to let me down, would you?”

After this, no poignant concerns remained, so Panoptos wafted toward the World Tree. In a depression in the wood, an aperture that might have been a portal appeared to be boarded up. Strips of interwoven bark covered in etched symbols shrouded it like a curtain. He beckoned to armored Uhelei. ”If you would?” With as much reluctance as he could without seeming expressly disobedient, the techno-organic warrior made his way to the barrier and laid a hand on it. A small light in the center of his chest, just above where the pectorals would be on a human, pulsed a brighter green. In response the symbols lit up, and the next moment the bark crumbled into dust to reveal a swirling yellow-tinged vortex. Panoptos appeared suddenly by Uhelei's side and shoved him into the portal. His eyes leered at the agents of the Council. ”Come along, now.” Then he disappeared as well.

On the other side of the portal lay a bizarre realm. At first, the new arrivals would experience spinning heads and shaky legs, their inner compasses and senses of balance completely reversed. This feeling of disorientation soon became apparent: this place was upside down. On an ordinary world, gravity drew everything toward the planet's center, but here the exact opposite was true. In the Undersky, gravity pulled away from the earth toward the golden atmosphere and presumably out into space. Here, all life existed on stalactites clinging to the ceiling of a cavern with no bottom.

Fortunately, this disorientation did not last as the agents grew accustomed to it with merciful speed. Souta approached the edge of the stony landing upon which his group arrived and peered into a yellow abyss. He gave a low whistle. ”Pheeew...this place is nuts.”

Panoptos gestured to a path stretching out from the landing over the abyss, which wound like a snake through the air with no visible support toward other pillars of stone attached to a rocky ceiling above. ”No time for sightseeing, toymaker. We're headed that-a-ways, right after we get through with the welcoming committee.”

The Watcher's words elicited a furrowed brow from the smith, not just because of the belittlement thrown his way. Rather than questioning him about it, he occupied himself looking around, suddenly wary of some kind of imminent threat. Sure enough, he spotted something—a strange and unsightly form attached to the roof above. As it detached, the shape resolved to be three separate creatures, monstrous beasts both animal and machine with wicked claws. The echoing screeches they uttered sounded like metal being torn apart, and Souta shuddered as his Trawlers appeared in his hands in streams of rushing water. ”Okay then. I'm ready to scrap.”

The Three Realms War [A DMC, Bayonetta and Darksiders RP]

I've been traveling, but as soon as an opportunity presents itself I'll update Mad World.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

@Lugubrious

"A Smitten Huntress" 4koma

This is by far my favorite 4koma I made because of the last panel. _jojo

@NarayanK

As excellent things go, this is pretty far up there. You're a treasure.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Random question! How would your characters act if they accepted a love confession genuinely? o-o

@NarayanK

Prior to Abel genuinely accepting, he'd do his best to try and dissuade whoever it was, making sure to list out his various bad qualities. During this time, he'd probably look steely-faced and cold, arms crossed. If he realizes that the girl doesn't care or understands all his shortcomings and loves him anyway, he would be so incredibly touched. His stoic expression would give away to utter amazement, and all that repressed blood would surge into his face, turning him beet red. In fact, he's probably start weeping in sheer joy that something this marvelous could happen. As gingerly as he could, so as not to let his extreme elation overtake his senses, he would embrace the girl quickly and let go, not wanting to seem clingy. Then I image he and the girl would walk off together, trying to work out the right way to hold hands.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Funky Fistfight Freezers

Hesitation was something understandable and forgivable, but ten seconds had already passed since the silence between Rachel and Vinnie became awkward. The brown haired woman ignored his glove, said nothing, and didn’t even seem to really notice him at all. All desire to sustain a conversation with this person drained out of Vinnie as if someone had pulled the bath plug. Without a single word exchanged, the two people steered around one another and continued on with their lives as if the meeting had never occurred. Now wearing a frown, Vinnie pulled his glove back on. “Today’s just not my day…”

Had he assembled a list of different leads he could pursue, he might have been able to simply move on down to the next point of interest, but following the heartily disappointing ‘encounter’ with Rachel, Vinnie’s figurative to-do list lay blanker than a high school student’s expression on the first day of Calculus. In the spirit of trying to discover something new, however, he settled for walking downtown to an area of Angel Springs he practically never visited. Nothing in his heart set him against this zone, but other than driving past it on his way to work each morning he never found a reason to consider it. On the way, he suddenly gave a smile to the blue sky, thankful for the temperate weather today that meant he wouldn’t sully his suit jacket with perspiration.

In less than five minutes at a casually intent pace he arrived at the unfamiliar district, a more claustrophobic area of the town than the area containing the Golden Peking. Following a spur-of-the-moment gut feeling, he turned left down the mainstreet, and found himself surrounded by old, run-down buildings. Every structure here felt dingier yet more cultural than those of the pristine, very modern districts of Angel Springs. The people here, too, sported a somewhat distinct look from the typical town inhabitant. Poorer families and a more closely-knit community meant that new trends in fashion caught on like wildfire and mutated just as quickly to produce fashions that were paradoxically uniform and unique at the same time. Vinnie guessed that, even if gangs didn’t dominate this area of town, that sort of lifestyle held a substantial influence on the way people acted. Here, the restraint and niceties of the clean, organized parts of town dissolved. Everything, Vinnie thought, gave off the impression of emotion, vigor, rawness—in short, personality. The same sort of intimate local culture one might expect to find in a rural town that lived by its own rules seemed nestled here in the city’s heart. All this fascinated Vinnie, but as a definite oddball around here, he kept both eyes open.

In fact, to avoid sticking out like a sore thumb walking along the street, he detoured onto a sidestreet under construction to take a look around without scrutiny. Immediately he noticed that pretty much nobody inhabited this little avenue, and it outdid the rest of the district in grunginess. Interested in what might lead to such a distinction, he sauntered down the sidewalk with commendable posture and his hands in his pockets until he spotted two individuals leaning against a building comprised mostly of dark gray bricks. They were speaking freely to one another, and to Vinnie they seemed rather drunk for it being so early in the day. Their clothes, halfway between casual and formal, could have belonged to someone of pretty much any profession. Vinnie could imagine them behind the counter of a video shop, convenience store, pool hall, whatever. In short, they did not stand out in any respect except for their exuberant mannerisms, and Vinnie didn’t pay them much mind.

A noise drew his attention. Across the torn-up road, a door set in a building that Vinnie assumed to be closed had opened, and from it walked two women opposite him. Neither one appeared to notice him, which suited him just find, because for a moment he couldn’t stop staring. Accentuated by their similar choices of clothing the ladies’ ample chests bulged prominently and actually bounced with each step. After a brief moment, Vinnie noticed other things. Their hair, auburn with dyed green streaks, matched exactly, and their eyes shone the same color in the light of a sunny noon: acidic lime green. Had Vinnie not known better, in fact, he would have said that their eyes glowed with an almost radioactive luminescence. He watched them strut straight toward the two drunk-looking men, whom Vinnie suddenly noticed had sobered up. After a moment, the two pairs stood opposite one another, and the whole scene took on a menacing tone. This is too weird… the besuited onlooker thought worriedly, only realizing a moment later that he was looking for weird. Feeling the tension and wondering what might happen, he stowed himself out of sight to observe.

The silence was broken by one of the women. “Last I checked, the boss doesn’t like losers hangin’ around his crib like TV gumshoes on stakeout. Think you boys oughta run home before things get messy?”

With a chuckle, the man in sunglasses replied, “If we didn’t want you to find us this time, we woulda tried a little harder to hide, doncha think? Maybe it’s time the four of us hit the town. How’s a double date sound?”

The other woman tossed her hair angrily and crossed her arms beneath her busom, turning sideways. Her companion turned the other way, putting both hands behind her head. “Big talker, huh? You won’t like getting smashed with us.” She breathed in deeply through her teeth and called, “「Bottoms Up」!”

“「Gin and Juice」!”

“「Capitol King」!”

“「Lynyrd Skynyrd」!”

Vinnie saw four distinct flashes, but afterward, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Not one but four ghostly things appeared, one for each person he saw. Two of them were strange; above the long-haired woman’s shoulders floated what looked like a teapot with four legs, four disturbingly human eyes, and a tongue coming from the spout, and the pigtailed woman now held a fancy serving dish with a strange champagne glass on it. The remaining two, however, nearly caused Vinnie’s eyes to bug out of his skull. The man with sunglasses stood side by side with an animatronic gladiator with dull grayish-brown armor and tomato-red flesh. A huge helmet not unlike a kettle with holes drilled in completely obscured the head. Meanwhile, the bespectacled man in a polo shirt stood above a crouching robotic butcher, complete with apron. Each of its hands exhibited only two fingers, albeit long, segmented, and thin enough to be razors, and instead of a head it appeared to sport a giant potato peeler with hammerhead-esque eyes on either end. As ludicrous as these things looked, these four looked intent on some kind of fight. Vinnie Pantera, meanwhile, dared not breathe. The reality of other spirits existing, and responding to their hosts by name, had just settled in, and he would rather die than miss what happened next.