Lugubrious

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

I don't think it's a big deal, Harine. I assume you're doing this to keep anyone from getting offended, but we're all friends here, and it's not even offensive. Anyone who would get triggered over something like that is playing at being the victim, I think.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Time to be super cool, Brewing Storm. Rather than a couple of big combo attacks, I'm looking for each one of you to have your character attack full-force while the Manticore's dizzy from the chaingun barrage. Though it will still lash out, your character is now 'in the zone' so to speak; I think it would be pretty rad if all of you had your characters perform some really cool moves one after another, each playing off the person who acted immediately before you. For instance, Krayzikk might have Ben leap into action right after Goodwitch to exploit the wound she inflicted. You all have my permission to really hurt the thing, and to control its attacks and actions appropriately within your own post, but only the very last person to post can finish it for good.

This isn't some super-rigid request, but rather an idea for how you might structure this last, critical moment of the mission. Have fun!

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Brewing Storm

HEAT UP

@krayzikk@sho minazuki@herecomesthesnow@kaithas@plank Sinatra@suku@narayank

Every atom of air, charged to capacity with tension, bore oppressively down on the would-be heroes of Beacon. On the earth, the students dared not to move, lest the nightmarish beast that divided them from an open sky of freedom and safety sense their presence. The decisive moments of this mission were upon them, and now the soft but portentous winds of the eye of the storm played around them. Often enough people spoke in hushed tones of the dreaded Grimm’s rumored ability to smell fear, but whether or not the Manticore truly could, it went without saying that it was only a matter of time before the smell of man wafted upward to its nostrils and betrayed the student’s presence to this overwhelming evil.

Far above this scene, professor Goodwitch frowned slightly at Ben’s use of vulgar language, even if the situation warranted it, but she nodded in response to his plan. “Very well. Marine?” The pilot of the airship, having put the flying machine into a state of hovering, perked up in acknowledgement. “Make it uncomfortable,” Goodwitch told him icily, and a muffled sound that might have been a dark chuckle could be heard within the pilot’s helmet. The instincts of those onboard bid them to hold tight as the vehicle spun around, angling downward to the ferocious beast that paced below. From beneath the fuselage, a chaingun appeared, and without so much as a by-your-leave it let loose.

The sound of hundreds of rounds per second belched in ultra-quick succession from the impassionate weapon of steel seemed oddly…soothing. Its ruthless might provided assurance that mankind’s ingenuity would not allow the howling dark to take it down easily. The bullets ripped into the manticore’s flesh, mostly across its back where its armor, grown no doubt to defend itself from smaller creatures, did not adequately protect it. A calamitous roar shook the landscape—a terrible cacophony of rage and pain both.

Any ordinary person would have observed the Manticore now and still taken it as a dire threat, thinking that to even escape it alive would have been a miraculous feat, without the notion of beating it anywhere near the scope of reality. Goodwitch saw something else; so too did the astute among the present hunters-in-training, those familiar with Grimm biology. In its frenzy, the monster was also confused, and in confusion it was vulnerable. Narrowing her eyes as the airship turned so as to permit its occupants a view through its open rear, Goodwitch said, “As I hoped, the barrage loosened it up. There’s a chance that you lot may be able to end it here. It will take every one of you, attacking in sequence one after another, with all your strength, all your knowledge, and all your agility.” Hearing this, the pilot began to lower the ship. Goodwitch continued, “Let your instincts take over. Fall from the sky and strike with all you’ve got. Once you begin, those on the ground can chime in. It’s time to finish the job.”

So saying, Goodwitch leaped from the open ramp. As she fell, she span several times, and around her like the eddies of a hurricane a storm of magic grew. The Manticore’s crimson eyes fixated on the purple light around her, and it sent a gargantuan paw up to slice her to ribbons. In that instant she struck. Like the blast of an immense shotgun, a spread of arcane bolts careened into the paw, throwing it back the way it came just as quickly. Another more concentrated volley flew immediately after toward the base of its newly-exposed foreleg, gouging the flesh and spraying black smoke out of the wound into the muggy marsh air. With elegance Goodwitch landed on the earth immediately after, buoyed up by her telekinesis. Hers was a tough act to follow, but Beacon’s finest could do nothing less than exactly that.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

@Lugubrious He's pretty entertaining I have to admit. I like him a lot. He's approved, but only after you add in the standard Ward equipment.

@ProPro

Oh, okay. Done.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Here's what I've got.

Elliot Prat

Margrave

Name: Elliot Prat
Alias: Margrave
Age: 17
Alignment: Wannabe Antihero, formerly Wannabe Villain
Loyalty: Unofficial Ward
Appearance: A white male of lanky proportions, 6'1”, most often clothed in dark colors. His features, from his nose to his jaw to his cheekbones, are angular, and his nose itself is rather prominent. By nature his brown hair is poofy, and he keeps it styled upward. His earlobes are attached, his eyes are a murky brown, and he has slightly yellowed teeth. His favorite attire includes a dark green high-collared trench coat that belonged to his grandfather and a black baseball cap.
History: Elliot came into the world in a rough period for his family. Poor, without a house, and constantly on the move, his parents did their best to love him and raise him while teaching him important lessons about life. Elliot learned quickly, becoming a very serious and reserved child. As the years went by, his family persisted in a state of continuous change. For a few months he and his parents might be living in an apartment or condo, and immediately after be back on the road in a station wagon. When Elliot was four, the trio finally settled, and Elliot went to school. Though not very social at all, he excelled in his classes, displaying streaks of perfectionism. Knowing that he needed something else to work on, his parents enrolled him in a kickboxing class, and he took to it like a fish to water. Eventually he found himself on the receiving end of some bullies, but rather than silently put up with their abuse he displayed a newfound confidence. One bully provoked him into punching, but even though Elliot missed, his enemies decided to find easier prey. All throughout middle school, nothing really changed.

Only in high school did he start to open up, his defensive shell cracking to allow dry humor and the occasional hilarious remark to seep through. Meanwhile, he continued to study, balancing a life of school, video games, and hanging out with friends. He saw no problem in trying beer or a cigarette when pressured to but, finding neither remotely to his liking, he never tried them again. Elliot instead dedicated himself to a new goal: scholarship. Though his family's condition had improved immensely from his early youth, there was not a single sliver of a chance he'd be able to attend college. In scholarship, though, he found a solution: a full-ride to a local university, if only he continue to excel. In his sophomore and junior years he did exactly that, but a dark and brooding foe lay on the horizon. Confronted with Calculus II, a college-level course, in senior year, he was stumped for the first time. Having become accustomed to overcoming every obstacle easily, Elliot grew uncharacteristically distraught disturbingly quickly. He grew more and more crazed in his desperation, knowing that his future lay on the line. Yet his pride would not allow him to cheat. Though he enlisted the teacher for help, he continued to struggle, and at the end of the second semester opened a yellow envelope with shaking hands to discover that he'd fallen afoul of the cutoff for the full-ride scholarship by only a small margin.

Elliot stared at the paper, mouth agape and eyes wide. In his quest to get a passing grade, he'd practically severed ties with all of his friends. He'd staked everything on this—and now he'd failed. With a shattered confidence, knowing that he'd doomed himself to a rotten life and disappointed everyone who knew him, he went berserk. Before, he'd made certain to keep excelling by punishing himself when he failed, so what came next seemed obvious. Seizing a metal pan, he smashed it against his own forehead. The impact dazed him and the held-back tears poured forth, but he did it again. Two more times he cracked the pan against his head, not really caring if he lived or not. The fourth time, however, the pan broke off. Elliot didn't discover why until he awoke an hour later to the sound of his mother coming into the apartment. Deaf to her shriek of fear, he touched the broken, plastic pot that lay before him before passing out again.

After recovering, Elliot was advised to go to therapy, but he shrugged it off. With school over with, he took to spending a lot of time outside, exploring the city. He'd discovered something new about himself, and in doing so he changed. A new attitude had taken him over, forming a sort of persona. He acted strangely and extravagantly without any restraint. He continued to work as a junior instructor for his kickboxing studio, albeit with a shocking new persona that the kids thought was pretty awesome, and he earned enough money to live off of. Out of the studio he sought something different. After a painstaking search, he attempted to get in with the local supervillain gang, only to be conspired against and brutally kicked out for his lame attitude and power. With no other options, he sought the local Wards. Perhaps its leader took pity on Elliot, but nevertheless he finally found somewhere he felt as if he belonged, though he'd never show it.

Personality

Motivations: Elliot wants, more than anything, to be recognized. The road starts with getting attention and ends with getting famous—preferably infamous. He wants people to know his name, and to respect him.
Sexuality: Straight
Likes:

• Looking cool
• Beating others at petty competitions
• Taking advantage of others
• Company
• Potato crisps
• Exercise
• Flaring up with no real reason
• Playing 'lone wolf' DPS characters in games
• Action movies, especially martial arts movies

Dislikes:

• Being alone
• Being ignored
• Being wrong
• His lame power
• People who are full of themselves
• Goody-goodies
• Artificial sweeteners
• Support players who whine a lot in games

Derangement: To Elliot, the only way to become renowned and respected is to be respected through fear. To that end, he goes to frequently absurd lengths to speak and act mysteriously and threateningly, though more often than not this comes across as acting confusingly and obnoxiously. He cannot conceive of a different way to get famous and is completely ignorant of his own shortcomings.

Parahumanism

Skills: Elliot is a fast runner, with somewhat higher than usual stamina. He's pretty smart, and can produce a sense of humor from time to time, but what he's really good at is pissing other people off. When it comes to ideas, schemes, plots, plans, and so forth that might bamboozle, infuriate, or enrage others, Elliot's the guy. He's also got a hint of a British accent that tends to intrigue people who aren't familiar with it. From kickboxing lessons he's taken since he was eleven, he's got notable fist-fighting ability, as well as the strength to go with it, though his pain tolerance is surprisingly low.
Classification: Striker
Details: Upon touching an inanimate object, Elliot can turn it into a toy version of itself. This may include substance change (for instance, to plastic) size change, and so forth. The rate of toyification is tied to his mental state; when he's calm, the transformations go at an unremarkable speed, but if he's excited or scared, the process can be sped up by several times depending on intensity. Objects will tend to turn into toy versions of themselves that replicate or at least resemble existing toys. Someone's mech suit might, then, turn into a Transformer. A few traits are shared among all of the toys created by Elliot's power: they are simple, they are destructible, and they are harmless. An anvil, turned into a plastic toy, could be easily crushed. Elliot has some control over the change; IE he could choose whether to turn a gun into a Nerf gun, a Super Soaker, or a tiny action-figure accessory.
Limitations: This toy-transformation power can only emanate from Elliot's hands. He wouldn't be able to defend himself from anything threatening to harm his body if he couldn't physically touch it with his hands. Additionally, if one of his toys is moved out of close proximity to him, it will quickly begin to revert to its original form. This also applies to toy versions of things he might want to use himself, like vehicles or hidden weapons. Of course, this power is also of very little use in direct combat with other parahumans.
Equipment: At all times, Elliot has in some pocket or another handfuls of foam knives and action figure weapons. He's also got a little canteen and a bag of beef jerky, which he enjoys. His heavy clothing might also provide a little defense, but it's no substitute for anything resembling actual armor. However, he does wear cloth shin-guards and forearm guards beneath his clothes when out and about, which are valuable when fighting unarmed. As a Ward, he's also got a Protectorate Communication Earpiece and a holographic computer interfacing tool, courtesy of Decoy.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Hunters with both parents unite? No? Just Sepia then. : C

@SevenStormStyle

I make fun of the trope of having no parents as often as I can. In all of the RPs where it's applicable, I have both parents of my character together, including this one. The only exception is my boy Nero in an RP called Phoenix Wing, but while he's lost his parents, they're still together--just brainwashed into working for an obscure evil team far away.

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

Mad World

@liferusher@zarkun@lazo@kapuchu

The sudden and ferocious barrage of Wrath battered his biomechanical adversary in its moment of vulnerability. While the creature did not physically retreat owing to its greater size and weight, the Nephilim’s all-out assault put it on edge, and in a critical instant he struck past its armor to gouge streaks of agony into its rubbery flesh. This time, the beast leaped backward, releasing an eerie, metallic howl that echoed off the rock faces. In that moment it discovered that both of its companions had bitten the dust and without a second’s hesitation turned tail and disappeared over an open side of the platform, as if a switch had been pulled. Some sort of processor within the beast’s mind might have as well weighed the odds, found them untenable, and forced it to retreat.

In the silence that followed, Souta scoffed noisily at Fenn. ”What, can’t take a few bruises? You keep doing the slaying and I’ll keep doing the thinking. Check this out.” From between the claws of his bladed gauntlet, Souta produced a bizarre-looking device. It looked like nothing made by factories on earth—it was too perfect. If anything, it resembled an organ cast from silver, though within the mechanism lay a tightly-wound coil alight with blue energy. ”While you were keeping it busy, I got under its skin and tore this thing out.” As proud as he was, Souta didn’t bother explaining further to the others, which they would no doubt view as a waste of time. If they needed further verification of his usefulness, he’d be happy enough to tell that this machine had been pulled from the base of one of the beast’s horns and was no doubt integral to whatever process allowed the creatures to absorb and then reproduce elemental energy. Without some sort of core or diffuser to spread the energy throughout a system, it would definitely not be able to replicate the monsters’ elemental conversion, but for now it would serve as a sort of capture-and-release tank. Instead of mentioning this, Souta laid his eyes on Lily as she began to line up her shot.
Even on a straightaway, the erratically bobbing and speedy figure of the mounted observer would make for a difficult shot. The winding suspended path, combined with unknown atmospheric conditions, as well as the motion prediction made necessary by the target’s distance, turned the feat practically impossible even for one as talented and calculating as the demon. Her brutal arrow cannoned into the path instead, easily destroying a section of it measuring about forty feet long. This did not, unfortunately, include the footing of the escapee, but it did cause the entire path to sway slightly despite the sturdiness of its anchoring.

”Well, that was a fun little kerfuffle. Shame it got away. Uhelei, tell them what you told me.” Panoptos crossed his arms like a parent waiting for his child to apologize for some offense.

With eyes still glaring despite the rigidity of his mask, the reluctant local began to speak. When he formed words, sparks of light the same color as his eyes erupted behind the grate in his mask where his mouth might be, much like a saw cutting into metal. The voice that poured from him sounded just about as pleasant. “A man of the tribes. Sentry. The Vuirukeinee were his. He will warn the others; they will fortify the villages. We can find other routes.”

”Ah, ah, ah.” Chidingly, Panoptos waggled his finger. ”My special senses are tingling, and they’re telling me that there are beasties in this place that put those metal dogs to shame. True monsters, not half-machine critters tamed by half-machine savages. Maybe our pals here would rather take the easy route and rough up a few villagers rather than play with the Undersky’s local abominations.” His gaze regarded the group curiously, flitting between Souta, Fenn, Wrath, Lily, and Midori. Those miniature stars of emerald hue regarded the half-demon critically. ”Oh…I’d nearly forgotten about you, little one. I just love the way you’ve been standing there like a rock the whole time. Well, if you don’t put yourself to use soon, I guess we could use you to see if the Undersky’s as endless as it looks.” Cheerily Panoptos looked around again. ”Anyway! What do the lot of you say? Tribesmen or terrors? Oh, and I recommend you choose quickly.” He shrugged, moving so as to reveal the now-inert game through which the group had recently arrived. ”You might notice that the gate is looking a lot less sealed than the one back in the Citadel. Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if the Hierarchy, the demons, or both figure out how to get through before long.” He shook slightly in suppressed laughter. ”Party’s no fun if everyone’s invited. Take your pick!”

Aware of the egos at play here, Souta remained silent. While he would have preferred to leave this place’s civilization alone, he did not think his opinion mattered enough to risk causing infighting in this team.

The Gamer Squad: Escape The Mainframe

Hey, I don't think I'll be joining, after all. Another RP has captured my attention. Sorry...good luck to you all, though!

All In (Video Game Multiverse)

Henry

Where the foul rays of Nosferatu seared the earth, they left it defiled. The grasses blanketing that soil, and the many insects nestled within that miniature forest, all withered and died instantly. Not even their husks remained behind; beneath the malevolent arclight that called forth images of horrific moonlight in the pitch-black hours of a haunted night, they disintegrated into dust. Nothing would grow in this spot for years, if not forever. The charred circle on the ground existed as a testament to this tiny annihilation, snuffing out life in the blink of an eye. For his part, Henry regretted that the life of Five hadn't been extinguished the same way.

Her act of what seemed to be teleportation bid the dark mage pause. Only Witches could warp like that. “A witch isn't good for business,” he admitted without breaking his eager grin. He knew precious little of these ultra-rare sorceresses, but their ability with magic outclassed even the dark mage's, and every witch could warp around the battlefield in the blink of an eye. Fighting one, so Henry heard, was like taking on a phantom. The witch was everywhere and nowhere at once, reinforcing allies, escaping even the cleverest traps, and obliterating any enemy that dared to stop for half a moment to catch his breath. And if the others shared this power, he and Denys were up against five.

A quick look around confirmed that his enemy had moved to the girl called Candy Cane, and while she didn't seem intent on attacking her at the moment, that could change at any second. Was this witch's choice of location, so close and exposed, an attempt to mock Henry? He gave a short chuckle. Why bother? He could take a joke—and he could deliver them. Whether or not this thing felt like teaching, class was in session, and Henry wanted to learn about her powers as he destroyed her. But why settle for just one?

The Nosferatu tome levitated out of his palm and floated into his robe, brushing against the Arcfire tome on the way. Very neatly the new book landed in the dark mage's hand, and before it had fallen fully open the pages inside were glowing and whipping frenetically. As his magic surged within him, he felt a sudden power far greater than before. For a moment, he felt that his veins were charged with energy, his fatigue fell away, his mind was honed razor-sharp, and that his heart was lighter than a feather. It beat quickly, brimming with excitement, and the fireball that sprang to life in his cupped hand both shone like the sun and swirled like a storm. ”Ahahahaha...! Special delivery!” With that, his golden magic circles chimed in the air around him, and the critical fireball leaped forward. It screamed through the air toward the group of four Big Sisters, its condensed power seemingly kept from exploding only by the promise of detonating, noisily and messily, in their midst.

Birdie

To his chagrin, Birdie could not find any sort of establishment at which he could stuff his face, neither inn nor pub. After a few minutes of walking around in a vain search, he elected to slip off into a sidestreet and find a place to sit and rest. He did not imagine that no sooner had he closed his eyes than the cheery and most unwelcome light of morning rouse him from his near-slumber, accompanied by the crow of some cock to boot. ”W..! Wot!? Day already? Jus' as I was 'bouta get some kip, of course!” Heaving himself to his feet, he leaned out of the alley and looked both ways down the street. Nothing stood out to him. In the light of day, the place somehow seemed to be in a better shape than it had been in the night. ”Spooky...loik a proper ghost town.” If nothing lived in this place, that could mean only one thing: no breakfast. Birdie groaned, and the sound of soulfelt sorrow echoed down the desolate street.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Hm, I've thought of a cool, out-of-the-box power that would fall under the Striker category.