Lugubrious

The Crucible - Winner Take All

In preparation of my incoming post, it's time for another checkup.

@Sentel
@Kapuchu
@Propro
@DracoLunaris
@Deadnaut

I'm looking for something from each of you in the near future

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

Fleo Plector

@Caits@Burthstone@Joshua Tamashii@Roseletta@TechnoWizROK@t2wave@Zarkun@Lunarlors34

Stories of other worlds never ceased to captivate. A war between angels and demons, a fated tournament, a gathering of warriors from distant realms, the trials of a young band of heroes...with every page Fleo turned, she couldn't help but read on. In the months since the end of the Grand Magic Games, Amaya hadn't been the only member of Phoenix Wing to nurse an interest in books. Fleo's newfound hobby, healthy for the stimulation of her mind had occupied much of her off time. Hers was a busy life, full of work and getting to know her fellow workers. Today began as a day seemingly like any others, but after her ordinary morning routine of exercise, hygiene, and breakfast, her day was shaken -quite literally- to its core.

”Whoa!” The tremor threw her, perched as she was atop the new heels of which she was so proud, to the ground. Her frayed, bold-print longcoat slapped across her head, and more irritated than hurt she pushed it away to get back to her feet. Without delay she examined the Guild Hall's first floor. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, except of course that pretty much everyone had been spooked by the sudden and severe earthquake. In doing so, she took a closer look at those present. There appeared to be quite the colorful assortment of people here today, including a few that Fleo was surprised to notice were strangers. When had that happened? Had over-the-top craziness become so commonplace in Phoenix Wing life that she had learned to tune it out whilst reading? Speaking of, the dusty woman knelt to retrieve her paperback from where it landed. Her furrowed brow spoke of her consternation: clearly, something was happening, but she hadn't been paying attention. Making an effort to appear composed and attentive, she turned her attention to Ariel with intent to answer, but Damian beat her to he punch. ”Well, yeah, but that doesn't help much.” Penny echoed the sentiment, and then in a rather odd tone added that such happenings were occurring throughout Fiore. ”Wait, how do you know?” Bereft of an answer, Fleo could only turn her attention to Sasha as she walked over and said something cryptic. Thoroughly confused, Fleo held her hands up. ”Why is everyone being so weirdly dramatic? Was that not just a normal tremor, like we've been having for months?”

Ariel shared her confusion, and for clarity's sake Fleo strode to her friend's side to stand with her bandaged hands on her hips, even as her companion sat. Instead of a reply, she received a blast of wind as the front doors flew open, and in the very center stood a showy guy with scruffy long hair and an opinion of himself so large that Fleo regretted that it didn't block the door and prevent his entry. The next moment, after fixing her hair and clothes, she caught herself and shook her head. Some people are just insanely emotive, she reasoned, like half the people in this guild. Which is probably why this dude came here. It's my responsibility to give him a good impression. Waving her hand, she offered Nico a smile, and called out, ”Hello!” A proper introduction, however, could wait. Mayt seemed intent on getting the story from Sasha, and with Amaya, Raiden, and Joshua also present, Fleo felt as if an explanation were owed.

However, Sasha and Pennys' revelations were delayed once again as the doors exploded open again for the second time in about as many minutes. A sarcastic comment lay on the tip of Fleo's tongue -hanging out with a platoon of wisecrackers had begun to mold her after this long, after all- until she recognized the new entrant as nobody less than the prestigious and pissed-off master of some other guild, Fraquar. Wisely, Fleo opted to put a lid on it, and left her master to answer that.

Soon after, to Fleo's great relief, Penny began to talk. Her speech, however, revolved solely around some new development with her Phoenix Magic. When it was done, the dusty woman could scarcely contain herself any longer. ”...Huh? I must be missing something. What's going on?” Head abuzz, she decided to pull up her own chair as well, and to sit with a dazed expression until the current situation became less baffling.

Cormorant Sanders

@Caits@Burthstone@Joshua Tamashii@Roseletta@TechnoWizROK@t2wave@Zarkun@Lunarlors34

Above Magnolia, a dark shape cast a wide shadow. Those who looked up, and managed to not be blinded by wonder, fear, or the sun, would find to their amazement the impossible shape of a ship in the sky. It floated, light as a dream and swift as a breeze, toward Phoenix Wing's guild hall. On its side, two symbols hinted at just what the meaning of this airbound vessel might be: the dual insignias of Pirate Lord and Frenzy Plant, the former redone in the latter's colors of green, black, and red. Coasting at an easy pace, the airship came to a stop in front of the guild hall, shielding the entire structure from the sun. A trumpet pierced the day's serenety -a peace already shattered by the repeated attacks on the structure's front door- and from the bottom of the ship a section of the hull began to descend. As it went lower, it could be identified as a platform suspended by chains from above, with three famous silhouettes on board. Motionless, the trio stood while the platform was gingerly laid on the concrete before the eyes of of onlookers. Together, the three stepped from the length of wood onto the cobblestone and marched toward the agape doors of Phoenix Wing's headquarters.

Most recognizable was, of course, the grandmaster general of the war guild Frenzy Plant, Cormorant Sanders himself. Clad in an impeccable but unadorned uniform and bearing a cane decorated to look like a thorny vine, he sauntered forward flanked on either side by two guards. Owen Whately, the fencer of the badlands and half of the dynamic duo that wreaked havoc on the battlefield during the Grand Magic Games' free for all, stood to his commander's right, with the former piratess Jane Putcher on his own right. Somewhat in keeping with that theme, Sanders walked in time to the autumnal witch Blair Ravencroft and the well-dressed war sphinx Mari Gatlock. Each one wore the uniform of Frenzy Plant, though modified with include extra blue and white for the last two ladies to signify their belonging to Aerial Ace, the division of Frenzy Plant formerly known as the independent guild Pirate Lord. The merger, it seemed, had been long completed. With his entourage on his heels, Sanders entered the Phoenix Wing guild hall. There, he gave a slight bow to both Fraquar and Jamie in turn. ”Fellow masters, I am pleased to see you once more,” his gentle voice affirmed.

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

squirms

So... I have been trying to post. And...

Well, I need to do it in splurts.

I need to respond to Techno...

and some other things...

in one post....

and then in another... there will be a time skip of only a few hours so its like "later that same day"....

to then finally get this arch moving... so i do kinda need the guild masters and @lugubrious To... be present for that one as the arch I did hope would involve all three guilds... Do you guys have any objection to that?

I'll get the first post out shorty, but the second post depending on some things might be a bit longer... given that I haven't started either, and I lost everything that was in preparation for this arch...

@Caits

Alright, I'll get on that when I'm able.

Project Crossover [SMASH ARENA - Only PXO members allowed]

Slayer
Level 3
Day 2
Location: In-house Smash Arena
@Zarkun
Experience: |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (27/30)

Aimed well and thrown with a hint of Slayer's dandy strength, the heavy crash that was Dead On Time careened through James' barrier to shoot him into the in-house arena's perimeter fence. Splinters of wood flew in all directions as he struggled to right himself. That said, the solder's parting gift did not go unnoticed. The two shots smacked his opponent down into the dust with an Hough!”, and splatters of red could be seen around his still form. Even as Teller rose, however, the bullet holes in Slayer's chest closed, leaving only the bloody stains in his suit behind. Of the two, the latter seemed to distress the vampire more as he lay, courtesy of the point-blank shots' force, on the ground. Folding his hands across his head, he gave a sigh as he stared upward. ”Ah...no excitement. Perhaps ye've some skill, but I've seen all I aim to. With only a few moments' knowledge of my abilities, ya see fit to shoot me through the lungs? It takes some brass to resort to kill shots in a petty arena game. If yer not playin' by the rules, lad...you bore me. I'll have to get this suit mended...a pretty penny, I'll wager.”

The dandy's concession was clear enough. For all he cared, the title of winner was James', along with whatever that entailed. Slayer himself continued to recline in the soil until James departed, to keep up the charade of being defeated. Once alone, the vampire got up, dusted himself off, and sauntered away puffing his pipe as though nothing happened.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

I haven't suggested that any of that was your fault, @Lugubrious. I was just making a point about my own mindset at that moment, and I don't think we need to be aggressive with one another over it. That said, you are perhaps right that leaving would be a bit selfish, and I've found myself some renewed willpower to keep pressing on anyway, so feel free to ignore my prior post.

@BCTheEntity

fig

Sometimes a little aggression is what it takes. I like your moxie, soldier. I'll look forward to your writing.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

@Lugubrious So, unfortunately, I feel like I have to drop out of this game. I've kind of been forcing myself to post in the games I'm in lately, for both personal and game-related reasons, and I'm burning myself out as a result. That affects this game in particular, because the quality and volume of writing it demands is quite high; this is a good thing, of course, but my more recent posts in it have ended up being pretty sub-standard compared to what I feel is my usual ability to write, which then ends up being that much further below the necessary writing standards you and the players are presumably looking forward to reading.

Furthermore, and considering the PvP nature of the game, it doesn't seem fair to ProPro to potentially beat him in this round, only to quit shortly afterward for lack of motivation when he seems to be one of the more dedicated players available to you. Having said all that, I deeply apologise for any disruption this causes; if no other players present themselves as replacements, I might suggest that Runch could face off against Motley as an NPC, just so that any interesting tactics Pro has come up with to fight Crue aren't wasted.

@BCTheEntity

That's your fault. The only 'demands' I've set in place regard the combat system, and submitting a post once every two weeks. Take a look at the average length of Banana's posts and tell me again how much I've been pushing you. You had the option to speed into PVP with Propro from the beginning, but you yourself opted for a series of posts with your character wandering around. If I didn't know better I'd think that you set yourself up for this.

There will be no more admission of new players. If you quit, Motley becomes an NPC to be trampled. Hash out any remaining details with him as you please.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

As attentive as could be, Elliot parsed all the incoming information. Participating in the interrogation himself hadn't been something he bargained on, but it took but a few seconds for an idea to pop into his head concerning how to contribute. His powers did not permit him an easy read of an enemy's knowledge or abilities, but in terms of persuasion, he envisioned a cunning use. The scheme appealed to him on all levels—clever, simple, and morally gray. Doing what must be done, no matter the cost, suited an antihero to a T. For the moment, Elliot just watched. As much as he loved the works of a certain H.P. Lovecraft, this metahuman appeared less 'cosmic horror' and more 'deranged pervert'. The sentences that dribbled out of its mouth were the most banal chatroom cliches, the very stuff of little Zoey's first fan-fiction, and they irritated Elliot enough to banish all lingering reservations he held for enacting his plan.

The other wards, of course, didn't wait for him to have his say. Tulpa's suggestion worked well enough with his own, and while she chimed in with her request for a restraint, Elliot moved over to a nearby desk. He laid his hand on the chair and held firm, his power rushing through. In a mere moment, the life-size piece of furniture was a minuscule model in the palm of his hand, only a few centimeters tall. With it, he returned to his alleged allies, and remarked, “I shall partake as well. Charisma and perception may very well be the spheres of these others, but my endeavor will be applying the pressure necessary to extract answers to whatever my compeers inquire.”

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Judgment day number 2 has arrived, and we've done significantly better than the first go around. I'm really glad to see that! @BCTheEntity is missing an update for Messiah in the Wards, and @Lugubrious with Margrave also of the Wards. As before, you have 5 more days, and if there's any extenuating circumstances then please let me know and we can work together on it.

@ProPro

After a 14-hour night train, I have arrived in Italy, and should be able to manage a post within the next two days

Konosuba: This Wonderful World's Alternative Paradigm

𝓠𝓾𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓵

@Dead Cruiser @Bishop @DracoLunaris @Lunarlors34 @Heckno12 @Skepic @Zelosse

A symbol bloomed in the air that, according to Xiang, signified the Adventurers Guild to which this merry bunch of bozos would be headed in hopes of finding work. The sight of it solidified the urge in Quarel's mind, and he gave a curt nod of acknowledgment both to the succubus and to himself. Even if this road didn't look promising, he'd give it a try. He watched the others grab their gift as well, some with about the same lack of reservation as he, and almost smiled to himself. One, a young female human with a spellcaster's air about her, seemed both quiet and contemplative. Those, in combination with a disdain for the rather foolish notion of playing the selfless hero, made for a decent impression in his eyes. After all, a real goody two-shoes would refuse the generous offering, determined to live off his or her heroic determination, perhaps.

From the underbrush sprang a small green creature who, Quarel was able to discern with glittering eyes also appeared to be a scantily-clad female, nabbed an indiscriminate amount of money from the bag and sprinted off. He wondered why Yuji just let that happen; could it really be that she had an innocent, generous spirit? Of course, the goblin offered to pay her back, but Quarel assumed it to be less of a grateful guarantee and more of a ploy to throw off pursuit, and obviously it didn't factor into the centaur's decision anyway.

Ploosh

Quarel snickered, his expression hidden by the feathers that made his mouth imperceptible. Good luck with that. With Rita out of the area, the strigiforme happened to lay eyes on a fellow feathered person a few feet away, who stood apart from the crowd with her new wealth just as he didd. His brow-tufts furrowed. “Hmm.” A human with a bird tail and wings on her hips? How odd. It seemed terribly unlikely that such a bizarre physiology could ever achieve the lift and stability necessary for flight. Of course, Quarel wasn't one to talk, coming from a species of flightless birds himself. The reminder turned his gaze sour.

The bandit's bitterness fell to the wayside, however, as a warty head breached the surface of the nearby lake. He scrutinized the beast as it rose, noting that it appeared to be a Giant Toad. Then again, it didn't seem quite 'giant' enough...maybe 'Large Toad' suited it better. He could not help but recall the fact that strigiformes such as he ate frogs on occasion, but this mottled monster looked pretty inedible. “Shame,” he muttered aloud. “Could feed a brood for a week or two if it didn't spoil.” Xiang's comment made him wonder if these fetid freaks had the audacity to think of him, a being by all rights higher in the food chain, as potential prey. Some appeared to be heading in the direction Daveon went. Noting the silence, Quarel craned his neck to look around, and to his surprise nobody seemed to be in a hurry to do anything. One -the prissy-looking girl he, having been at the back of the group, had seen run into a doorframe- looked eager for a little violence, but nobody else had so much as moved. In fact, everyone seemed more or less unhappy and unmotivated.

Something clicked in Quarel's mind, prompting him to sigh. A plan came to mind, and with a flourish he drew his knives. Their alloy surfaces sparkled in the morning light, and without delay the bandit struck them together.

CLANG! CLANG!

“Alright, losers!” he hollered. “Looks like we've got some amphibious asshats who feel like makin' this crappy morning even crappier. Things might not look bright in the long run, but we're in this together, so let's let off a little steam and dice this pond scum up. Let's show 'em what we can do, come on!” Of course, words were seldom enough, but Quarel came prepared to make a spectacle. His legs tenses, and the next instant he sprinted forward before leaping into the air. Light weight and developed muscles made for a serious jump, and with pretty good precision Quarel soared through the air. Inverting his blades, he dove down toward the toad by the pier, aiming to land on it and buy his blades in its eyes.

In the back of his head, he knew the stunt was stupid and would probably end with him in the water, but if it got the others moving he was doing his job.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Knight Sylvestre

Location: the Neighborhood
@GreenGoat

Of all the responses to his calm yet provoking question, a smile had not been one of them. Still, the odd expression answered the second, unspoken inquiry Cyril harbored: what kind of person was this well-built woman? His conclusion: that something was off about her, though really he shouldn't have been surprised. Her ensuing behavior told him all he needed. As she approached, he reflexively lowered his weapon so that its tip pointed at her guts, and shifted his grip to both hands, but he did not attack. To be sure, he considered it, but the way she practically strutted forward invited him to think twice. She's kooky but not insane. Trying to goad me into a preemptive strike. With no arms...er, that, is, no weapons and one arm, she must be a martial artist or sorceress.

The vanguard let his warning stand, saying, “No need to prevaricate. This city is barren but for competitors.” Juniper advanced, and Cyril stood his ground. If she continued moving toward him, it would be he who would be justified in self-defense, not she. For now, he kept his face-plate up, staring her down as a human rather than a soldier. “We do not have to fight, but I'm afraid I need something of yours in order to continue. My wish isn't much—just to sweep away all the universe's evil. But I'll do whatever it takes.” His tone remained low and monotone, communicating his intent well enough. A refugee of a world accustomed to the weariness and desperation of souls like Juniper could not miss their hollowness in his dark eyes.

“Well, well, wellwellwellwellwell! What do we have here?” A familiar voices resounded through the grocery store. The door gave its chime once again, with the broken glass sliding open to admit a dark gray flying machine with a single purple eye. From just above that lens, the projector flickered on to reveal the smile of Oren Erumel. His arrival, Cyril felt, could only mean one thing. If the announcer started the fight, the vanguard could still ignore him of this woman's surrender seemed likely, but she hardly looked the type to concede something as vital as her soul. Besides, he still didn't know any way to acquire a soul other than killing its owner, which filled him with venom. He watched Oren turn between the two potential opponents before saying, “Looks like our first Round Two battle is brewing! Juniper the 'Junipersistent' versus the Knight Sylvestre, Cyril 'Brawniface'. I mean, you are gonna fight, right? Just because you're both 'heroes' doesn't mean one of ya isn't gonna be worm food in a half hour. If that makes sense. You two ready to scrap?”

The Fungal Knight

Location: Amusement Mile – Echoed Dead Man's Rock
@Banana

If a drone had been present to broadcast a live view of Oren's face, the furrow of his brow would have been evident to Bonesword. “What? Have things changed? When we went through that place, it was more like an elaborate playhouse than a museum.” The idea of echoes being linked to the various competitors found and entered into the tournament did not seem to provoke as much of a response as the skeleton thought it might. It didn't take supernatural intuition to infer that the announcer knew something that he wouldn't be telling, something that made Bonesword's report less of a surprise. “Duly noted. Class dismissed!” Oren signed off, and the morning was peaceful once again.

Some time slipped by, giving Bonesword room to roam, even to leave the Amusement Mile behind. This period was far from silent, however. Horrifying, chilling noises sounded out through the chloromancer's phylactery, shattering the morning's serenity. A cacophonous, repulsive rasp...the nauseating sounds of blood and gore...the roar of flame and sizzling of foul flesh...such bone-chilling horror bled from the device's implanted mic to drown out the soft ambiance of seabird and shore.

If Bonesword cast his eyes out toward the ocean, he could easily spot several shapes reaching out of the sea. One, which appeared to be a ship, sporting something most unusual. From this distance the details were hazy, but there was some kind of unnatural mass thrashing around on the deck, and during the obvious struggle there appeared something else, bloody and terrifying. The action, synced up exactly with the noise coming through the skeleton's phylactery, though delayed booms and bangs did reach him from across the water as well. As he watched, the ship began to burn.

Eventually the hellish concert faded away, but in the quiet that followed there came a growl through the line.

“Whoever you are, wherever you are, you bastard, I’m coming for you. And I will not stop until one of us is dead.”

In the sky, a small shape could be seen, moving with the telltale speed and whir of one of Oren's drones.

The Blood Devil

Location: Offshore Shipwreck
@RoughDragon1

Fear? Such a banality suited mundane organisms. The Writhing Worm was something beyond, but then again, so was its prey.

Two singularities of hatred and hunger faced off in a gruesome melee. One moved and struck like a swarm of despicable things, moving in perfect yet loathsome harmony with its many vile parts, and the other fought back with a bloodlust even more intense. Empowered by flame and drunk with blood, the hunter carved up her assailant, reducing it to a living pulp still rasping its fury as it splattered overboard. In a rather short amount of time, Saria eviscerated her foe and left the blazing ship behind. She cast off not a moment too soon; from the bowels of the ship, there came the roar of rending metal, and two more worms burst from the boat's hull like parasites from an afflicted animal's guts. With weeping scars from the in-fight that had distracted them while the third attacked Saria, they stretched out toward the escaping huntress, only to recede as the shipwreck began to list dangerously. They slid back into the shadows of the smoldering wreck, disappearing as all abominable things should into the welcoming dark.

Yet, they weren't the only monsters here. Saria, shivering in the rowboat, remained the Blood Devil still. Having stimulated her soul into a dire transformation for survival, the phylactery struggled to suppress the awakened power. Flames from her aura licked at the wooden rowboat, promising to incinerate it before long. Only a taken soul, after all, could fully quell the Frenzy. That of Saria's first opponent soothed the festering, but she wouldn't be cured unless she took her next opponent down. Furthermore, something else lurked beneath Saria's skin. A burning, a bubbling—the noisome liquor of the Writhing Worm's fangs had not been purged. It felt awful but, for now, subtle. Anger, pain, and even a sort of dark eagerness compelled her to row on, on to the next battle.