Lugubrious

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

While even Elliot could agree that unpacking a new toy involved a certain degree of wonder and excitement, the time for such trivialities had come to a close. The advent of Decoy's real explanation galvanized the oft-alienated antihero to stow the hologram projector on his person and tent his fingers before his face. Suffused by a look of acute attentiveness, the Margrave absorbed every liquid ounce of information the Wards' mission control could excrete. He told of a rally the heroes' foes would be attending, and his the Margrave's mind span with images of boldly crashing the party, but in the end it turned out the junior justiculars' task would be to undertake a drug bust while the garrison was thinned. Already he could picture all the different things he might want to toyify and take with him on such a venture. ”This mission is suitable,” he concluded with a curt nod of his head and a cross of his arms in an X across his chest.

Contrary to his resolute demeanor, he jumped in sudden surprise at the fearsome dinosaur that seemingly sprang out of nowhere. No unfortunate and illogical phobia of prehistoric beasts plagued him, of course, but any kind of abrupt movement in his vicinity surely made being startled justifiable. Neither was he alone in his momentary terror; judging by her reaction, Evelyn felt just as taken aback as he. He delivered to the group's newest and flightiest member an admonishing glance. Rather than notice him, the girl proceeded instead to just bubble about her capabilities, her enthusiasm such that her entire body jittered like a puppy's. The sight of it made Elliot cringe, and he deigned to look away. Any serious planning, his face said, would have to be done independently of Lillian. Next to speak was Ira, but she had nothing to say that concerned the exemplary yet woefully undercut talents of the Margrave. She and Tulpa reoriented their focus on the young tinker's new gizmo, and while the latter made an effort to draw herself back into the big picture, she made it clear that the amplifier had very nearly monopolized her focus. It fell, then, to Alessa to get everyone in line.

The Wards' leader took all that the others spitballed and put it together in a passable fashion, even being so courteous as to remember her team's resident chosen one. When mentioned, Elliot turned himself so as to be side-facing and looked at the others from the corner of his eyes. ”How right you are. The applications of my unassuming yet indefatigable power are infinitesimal.” He scrunched up his eyebrows, reading back what he'd just said in his mind. ”I mean...just 'infinite'. Though to say it's 'just' anything is, naturally, an understatement borne of boundless modesty!”

With that out of the way, he returned to pondering what items he might need to procure for this mission. Gun, bricks, more caltrops, gas grenades...car? Couldn't hurt.

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

It's worth noting that any shmuck who looks in this thread would be able to use that, but I imagine we can weed such people out if necessary.

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

<Snipped quote by Leslie Hall>

I can make one. Already use Discord quite frequently.

@LugubriousThat was Sasha, not Jamie, that did the talking there.

@Zarkun

What do you mean? My most recent post did not involve Sasha in any respect, and occurred directly after Jamie spoke in Caits' post 19 days ago.

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

Cormorant Sanders

@Caits@Joshua Tamashii@Zarkun

Once again Frenzy Plant's commander committed himself to silent absorption of what Jamie had to say. He retained a collected expression throughout, with the singular exception of narrowed brows when hid fellow guild master misnamed the legendary scourge 'Acnologia' as 'Archnolia'.

With the briefing concluded, Sanders grunted before replying, ”Well, if it's true that there's a single magical island whose power prevents natural disasters, consider my concept of nature shattered and my state of mind more anxious. Otherwise, that will suffice.” Of course, nothing she'd really said indicated exactly what he was supposed to do to help, but after a few moments' musing he came to an educated guess. ”As to the reason why this place of power is weakening when magic is the strongest it's been in over a century, do you implicate the activity of dark guilds, or some sort of entity attacking the island in some way? If so, it stands to reason that an expedition would be in order.” He clasped his fingers, leaning forward. ”For such an endeavor, and to assure the realm of our cooperation in a matter of national security, Frenzy Plant would be willing to lend the aid of our airship, the Devil's Treasure.”

Indigo Afina – Frenzy Fort
@t2wave

The massive amount of time Indigo had, over the course of her life, spent with her nose in a book -coupled with her keen powers of observation- meant that little before her escaped her notice. As such, when Cyra turned to the side to mutter something unintelligible, even if for just a second, the library picked up on it and without hesitation began to ponder its meaning. The girl continued talking, and Indigo continued watching and listening, and while doing so it became apparent how strange Cyra's mannerisms were. Whether she achieved the intended effect or not, she was making a good attempt at acting mature, which elucidated how much she understood her current situation at the very least. One thing stood out: the name 'Shinzui'. With nobody else around as far as she could see, Indigo was left to look to the hand resting upon the katana sheathed at Cyra's waist, and it clicked in her mind that she was referring to her weapon. To be more precise, she referenced it not just in passing, but as though it were alive. Indigo's understanding of prominent Sevenese, though shaky, did indicate an affinity for treating weapons with ceremonial reverence, but given some of the girl's actions so far Indigo couldn't help but wonder if it meant something more.

Such matters could, however, be left for another time. ”Your commitment is impressive! Alright then, let's see about getting you enlisted. First, I'd like you to look over and fill out this sheet...” the sorceress slipped Cyra a piece of paper, previously within her desk, and a pencil. Once that had been taken care of, she pulled up a list and leafed through it, her index finger against the page. ”Hmm...okay! So, as you may or may not know, we here at Frenzy Plant test an applicant through a trial by combat. We begin by pitting you against a member of our lowest rank, then allowing you to test yourself against higher ranks one at a time. You keep the last rank you've earned once you're defeated. Right now, a certain fellow named Bartholemew is present who can perform your C-rank trial. Are you ready to begin?”

Owen Whately

@Joshua Tamashii

A shake of the head served as Owen's response to her initial question. ”Doesn't seem so.” The girl went ahead and gave her name, as well the fact that she was a 'spirit mage', which could mean any number of things. This wouldn't be a meaningful conversation, then, but he held no reservations about exchanging pleasantries when the situation called for it. ”Owen Whately, Corporal. Rapier Cast.”

His fellow soldiers, with varying degrees of interest in the chat between deadpan and amicable, took the opportunity to speak up for the first time. Two began to talk at the same time to start, and after a second to resolve who'd be going first, the introductions proceeded as normal.

”Ahoy there. I'm Jane, and I use Cartridge Magic. The bodacious buccaneer grinned.

“Hiya! My name's Blair, Blair Ravencroft, and I'm the best there is with Autumnal Spirit Magic!”

“You may call me Miss Gatlock. I do not deign to trifle in the arcane arts.”

Now, the attention of all four soldiers lay squarely on Amelia, respectfully expectant.

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

Okay Guys and girls.

I need ya to help me here.

Please look at the wonderful list T2wave put together, here and see if i put the ones i remembered into the right guilds, and can you also tell me what guild your other characters are in? Cause I just realised that half the CS's don't have the guild in them. And I... can't remember where everyone is place.

Holy hell. That's a lotta mentions.

caits

I have no complaints.

Sometimes I wonder what this roleplay would read like if I just sat down and started reading the IC like some novel.

@Leslie Hall

I've thought about that myself, though not specifically with this roleplay. My conclusion is that it would probably read like a jumbled mess. People have a hard enough time keeping track of Game of Thrones, and it has fewer characters and longer parts per character than every RP of which I'm aware. RPs with dozens of main characters, all popping in and out, just aren't feasible as literature.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

@Lugubrious

Hey do you just wanna skip me this round? Sorry I've been delaying so much, I just feel really uninspired and what I'm gonna post is just gonna look and feel bad.

@floodtalon

Rats, I hate when I fail to inspire people. Would it be best for me to move you toward Jin's next fight?

@Roughdragon1, @Kapuchu, @BCTheEntity, what about you three? Is there a way I can make posting more attractive to you?

Overlord : Advent of the Gods

In pursuit of answers or attackers, our heroes delve into their respective issues

Woodstop

@TheFake @Lord Zee

Effin, happy to play the sage, was stroking his whiskers and preparing an enlightening reply when a lean, ratlike man in white attire came walking up. Recognizing him immediately, the axe fighter gave up his pondering with a shrug and just pointed toward the approaching newcomer. “Him.”

Hand clasped behind his back, the thin-faced man attempted to find Revanmar's eyes within the slit of his visor, before focusing on Effin. “Good day Effin, milord. Morderik Biupolt at your service.”

“Boss o' the mess hall,” Effin explained, giving Morderik a nod of acknowledgment. “This is Revanmar, a mercenary from afar, jus' come to join our sorry bunch.” He seemed to take a degree of pride in the knight's presence beside him. “We're on official business, as ye mighta gathered. It's a li'l sudden o' us, but might ye know anythin' 'bout this here knife?”

Once the knife was produced, the cookmaster scrutinized it through narrowed eyes. It didn't take him three seconds to reach a conclusion. “Carving knife, best for separating meat from gristle and bones. Got a handful of them around here. Why?”

Shaking his head, the axe fighter pressed him further. “Wanna find out whose it is. Any mo' details, cookie?”

Though clearly resentful of the nickname, Morderik took the blade into his hands to review it. After a moment being held up in the light, he said, “Dirty, based on the oil residue. Used recently. If you found it outside the mess haul, someone probably took it with 'em to deliver some food, then left it somewhere. Whoever it is should still be in the kitchen.”

Effin gave another nod. “Thank ye kindly.”

A few moments later, the trio stood in the mess haul's brick back room. To say it was cramped would be to make an understatement; it filled what little space it had with ovens, larders, and surfaces upon which ingredients were heaped. The present cooks, who numbered five, might have succeeded in ignoring the new entrants had Revanmar's armor not reflected the fires with such brilliance. Only one, a stocky bald man whose back was turned, did not immediately look at him. Two (a woman with short blonde hair and a gangly youth with his long brown hair tied back), having looked up, returned their attention to their work with great haste. The remaining three, which included two older men similar enough to be brothers and a middle-aged man with black eyes, took in the unusual sight before continuing.

“There are two more that aren't here at the moment,” commented Morderik. “Though one of them was here when I went out to greet you.”

While scanning the room Effin asked, “Who d'ye reckon mighta handled the knife?”

The cookmaster singled out the gray-haired, mustachio'd men. “Markris and Setheo typically clean and cook our meats.”

Sure enough, the countertop near the old men sported a small wooden knife rack, and three were missing. Effin leaned toward Revanmar and whispered, “What d'ye make o' the sichy-ation? Ye got the manner o' a clever man, maybe ye can figger it out. If one's the culprit, he's playin' it real cool with us just standin' here...”

-=-=-

Every fox present alerted his or her bright eyes from the despicable luster burning at Kallahar's fingertip, save the spellsword. She gritted her teeth and flattened her ears, the skin over her eyes bunched up from anguish, but she did not look away. By the time the death knight made her demands, however, the vixen's resolve had hardened once again. Lenore felt as though this enemy knew the impossible odds she was up against, but somehow found it within her to power through. Either she was very brave, or something was assisting her behind the scenes. Around her, the ambush brigade seemed to have physically shrunk, the beastmen lowering themselves whilst backing away with their bushy tails between their legs.

Kukri in hand and foaming a little at the mouth, the vixen stood alone. After a brief glance to either side to take not of her underlings' reluctance, she returned her yellow glare to Kallahar and growled, “Allow thee passage so that thou might splinter our force from the rear? Keh. Never shalt I betrayeth he who saved me from who I once was. I am not afraid to die for him.” She moved in a flash, not to the left or right, but both at once. A blue rippling energy rolled off her form as the vixen split into six identical copies in a semicircle, three on each side, each about a yard away from the next. As one, the readied their blades. “We art Rorryln the Gleam. Ready thyself.”

The impressive sight, coupled with the vixen's display of dedication and the hint of an interesting past, procured a nod from Lenore. “Alright.” She knew nothing of these beastmen, or why they attacked the humans, but it was clear that they were much more than ravenous beasts. The courage to persevere for the sake of what one believed in, regardless of the odds, was something Lenore had thought to be uniquely human. Maybe I could learn something from this Rorryln, she thought, I'll face her as a worthy opponent.

With that in mind, Lenore moved first. She lunged forward, striking with her free arm. With startling speed her arm changed form, morphing into a lance that extended straight toward the nearest clone. Those nearest to the target dodged away, but the target herself raised a hand to project a rippling magic shield. Lenore's lance pierced straight through the weak barrier and impaled Rorryln in the heart.

Is that it? Lenore wondered, scarcely able to keep track of what she herself was doing.

Her answer came when the clone detonated in a mighty burst of force energy. The shockwave smacked into Lenore like a freight train, causing no damage but sending her flying back to crash with a sickening crunch into a tree. A touch dazed but otherwise not much worse for wear, she stared at where the clone had been with a surprised expression. Her gaze quickly shifted to the remaining foxmen who, having witnessed their leader's conviction and what looked like a success with her clone trick, had rallied and charged forward to join the attack. Several ran her way to make sure she was finished off, and from her higher elevation Lenore could think of one possible, though disturbing, way to handle them.

Tentatively she willed what she'd hoped were legs to move. In an instant the fleshy tentacles beneath her dress lashed out and grabbed the two nearest foxes. After coiling around them, the tendrils embedded themselves deep into their victim's flesh, and a nasty reddish magic began to seem into them. Beneath their fur and sparse clothing, the beastmen's skin bubbled and churned, changing on the inside as well as on the outside. Matter visibly pumped down each tentacle and into the victims, swelling them as they mutated, until two hideous golems were all that remained. Lenore gaped, trembling, as the tentacles retracted themselves. She'd done the same thing in Yggdrasil, but seeing it in such detail inspired both nausea and regret. “Uh...sorry...I'm sorry,” she said as she winced, one eye closed. The golems stared at her blankly.

Meanwhile, the five remaining Rorrylns attacked Kallahar together. Some darted in for a melee strike, but others slashed the air to send out magical replicas of their kukris like boomerangs, each composed of cutting rather than concussive force magic. Two foxman archers also took aim from a same distance, peppering her with arrows.

Overlord : Advent of the Gods

Hey @Lord Zee, you still with us?

Overlord : Advent of the Gods

Spurred by duty or pride to pursue the beastmen marauders making a beeline for Woodstop, the 'fairer' half of the party plunges into the woods, unaware of what they might find

Foothills Forest near Woodstop

@TheFake

The sight of Kallahar replacing her helmet upon her head, even before she spoke a word, told Lenore that she meant business. Having come to her conclusion, the Death Knight gave her reply, and without so much as a word of acknowledgment from her ally wheeled her horse around to speed off into the trees. With no choice but to grip her staff tightly and follow, Lenore hurried after her. The excitement of a potential battle served as ample distraction from her lingering distress, so she rushed as fast as her fleshy dress would allow.

Just as the men of the group found out not so long ago, the woods grew inordinately thick at a startling rate. The sheer density of the forest forced Kallahar to reign in her steed, for the absence of any clear path meant that one could only navigate the way with care. Turning back and forth to get between the trees her horse was obliged to plod, slowly so as to not snag a hoof on some hidden root or twist an ankle in a leaf-covered pothole. Though the occasional flash of movement could be glimpsed through the trees, neither Kallahar nor Lenore were able to make out any foxmen with full confidence. Nevertheless they continued their pursuit, until a sudden light appeared amid the trunks just a short ways ahead.

Lenore's eyes widened beneath her cowl. She knew that light, vibrating like an overclocked engine with violent yellows and oranges, and if Kallahar harbored much experience with conventional magic, she would as well. The chaotic mote, placed too close to be avoided in this claustrophobic overgrowth of a forest, detonated the next instant.

It didn't explode with the proliferation of a molotov cocktail, but rather like a growing sphere of flame, blinding in its brightness. With tangible force it blew apart the tree trunks in its way, and true fires sparked to life in its wake. Like an oncoming wall it sped toward Kallahar and Lenore, inescapable, and marvelous in its destructive splendor.

"Aah!"

The blast mote's heat washed over them like a light breeze.

"...Oh." After the initial surprise wore off, and she pat herself down to make sure she wasn't burning, the shoggoth could see as the flash began to die down a figure moving toward them through the flames. Fearless and with her kukri in hand, the female fox made for a menacing silhouette as she strolled just inches away from the roaring flames. Behind her, though not sharing her absolute confidence, was a squadron of foxmen with various weapons.

“Thou wert a fool to follow us after we sparedeth thy lives,” the vixen growled, raising her curved blade. “Yet still I am not unkind, for I shall grant thee a swift--!”

Shock spread across her vulpine face as her vision restored enough to see that not only were the victims of her ambush still standing, but they seemed hardly worse for wear. “W-what dissemblery is this!?”

Lenore blinked, still a little confused. Wait. It makes sense if they're a lower 'level' than us. Plus we're both pretty tanky builds. A smidgen of cockiness began to tickle her, and for a moment she wondered if she might be able to have a little fun with the situation, before she realized that Kallahar's version of fun probably meant turning the foxes into desiccated corpses. Even if the beastmen had been the ones to attack, the last thing she wanted was to massacre them in brutal fashion, particularly if they couldn't actually hurt her. By now, however, it was too late to stop her ally from taking vengeance.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

The hologram's chiding received a turned-up nose from the antihero. How very predictable for one who watched from afar, impassionately viewing but never understanding! Neither did the self-righteous smirks of his supposed colleagues bother him in the slightest. Even in the midst of these teens, alike in peculiarity, the Margrave stood alone. Not a soul among them treasured him as one hero ought to do for another—not that he needed their pity of such tender, delicate hearts. If the Wards' handler was so insistent on Elliot not being able to expose his superiority through words, he would elevate himself through his deeds. It was with an undeniable, independent flair that Elliot moved to take a seat.

Compared to his own style, that of the gifts paled in comparison, but he supposed it would do. However, Elliot reviled sight of colorful wrapping paper and springy bows; did the man behind the mirror imagine him a sissy? Such fanciful offers were not, he imagined, doled out at Protectorate briefing sessions. Masking his disdain, the ostentatious youth pulled the trappings apart to reveal the treasure stashed within. Turning the simple-looking device over in his hands, Elliot listened to the item's inventor's explanation. All that, packed into an unassuming disk? ”A gizmo most worthy of your illustrious codename, Decoy. What you have entrusted me shall not be wasted.” He would consider it a miracle, though, if the dynamic poses included in the gadget's limited catalog captured even a fraction of the phantasmagoria of his own.

In the end, what Decoy offhandedly appended to his shpeal interested Elliot more than the holographic ability of his new toy. Tonight's mission. Another jaunt into the howling dark, then, and so soon after the permanent though varied losses of two team members. Casting an eye toward the newest girl present, Elliot couldn't help but feel dubious. No doubt this Lillian boasted some superb power or another, but 'flighty' was one of the gentler uses of his boundless vocabulary that fit her personality, based on what he'd heard so far. Eccentricity did not, of course, doom one to the life of a pariah -unless everyone around one happened to hate one's guts, out of what one could only ever assume was jealousy- but she struck him as kooky to a high degree. How.. he mused, gazed at her over the back of a hand arched across his lower face to obscure his nose and mouth, Vexing... The others prodded Decoy with needless questions to which they already knew the answers or for which no effort ought to be expended. Ira alone held her tongue; she radiated a solitary ray of rationality amid the gobblydegook that plagued this room, surely as concentrated on the notion of a new assignment as he. Though she might not imagine it, a single thread of camaraderie linked them as, in silence, they waited for further instruction.