Lugubrious

The Crucible - Winner Take All

The Lady in White

Location: Government Hub
@Lazo

Now possessing a concrete goal, the odd pair of Mountain Dew and Pithy moved through the Government Hub at a brisk pace. Having for the most part evaporated over the course of the day, the flooding from the previous night presented insignificant obstruction, allowing the two to zero in on the place marked on the sorceress's map. Their path took them north, toward the skyscrapers of the towering Commercial District, though not as far as it could have been; judging by the amount of ground he'd covered from the tower, their target did not appear to be on the run. Nothing jumped out at them on their trek in the manner of the bat creatures Pithy first encountered, but one anomaly did not try to disguise itself: the surreal sight of a circus tent floating high in the air, its colors and constant spin giving it clear distinction against the rather cloudy sky. Were Mountain's vision exceptionally trained, perhaps through the lens of a long-distance firearm, he might even be able to spot the strange shape that dropped like an oblong rock through the Big Top's bottom toward the unremarkable office buildings and accompanying lots far below. Yet, the unusual occurrence constituted for the pair little more than a distraction as they grew close to the building overlaid by their map's X. The edifice in question seemed to be a high-brow corner restaurant, and its sign read “Moscow Caliber.”

The Fungal Knight

Location: Government Hub
@Gardevoiran

Scarcely had the Basil-isk begun to advance before the blasts of three warning shots broke the crisp air, their payloads ricocheting off the concrete in bursts of stone shards. None of the bullets hit Bonesword, but were he to look behind him, he could see that the ricocheted projectiles had embedded themselves in the building behind him in a perfect line. However absurd, such a feat spoke great lengths to the skill of the marksman, who now held his strange pistol at his side, his stance casual. Not far away, the forest sprite gave every indication of being spooked by the roar of the skeleton's mount, and like a fly darting away from a rolled-up newspaper it had already dashed behind a parked car to hide.

Despite his lackadaisical manner, which contrasted so thoroughly with the killer ability displayed by his warning shots, the mummified gunslinger kept his mushy ochre eyes fixed on Bonesword. “Hol' up jus' a moment there, pardner. Ya migh' not-a realized, but we're smack dab in the middle of a...delicate medicinal operation. Any closer an' that nice skull o' yers gets a new 'ole.” Without changing his gaze, he motioned toward the rosy-pink puddle, which appeared to have doubled in size and thickness in the short time since Bonesword saw it last. As he watched, the goo began to coalesce into the shape of a body. First identifiably humanoid, then identifiably female, it continued to gather until it took on the appearance of a long-haired, stocky woman. The moment they formed, her eyes flew open, and she gasped. “No!” she cried, before sitting upright. The effort brought forth another wave of pain, and the slime woman clutched her head, wincing. ”Aaah! Why does it hurt so much!?”

The gunslinger knelt, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder while averting his eyes. “Ya got killed. Hell, not even jus' killed, ya got evaporated.” Eyes wide, the slime woman tried to stand, only to fall apart. Her lower half melted back into a puddle, leaving only her torso, head, and arms. Sensing that his hand wouldn't do much good, the cowboy wiped it off and spoke again. “C'mon now, listen 'ere. D'ya know yer name?”

A moment passed, a look of consternation on the woman's face. “...Ss...Squ....no, uh, it's...uh...Ver...Very...”

“Verrine,” the undead finished. “Means 'window' in another language. Same language yer creator's name comes from. D'ya rem-”

This time, recognition came as quick as a bolt of lightning, interrupting the gunslinger's question. ”Carreau.”

The gunslinger gave a laugh. “Figures ya remember 'im better'n yerself. How 'bout us, now?”

One by one, Verrine looked between everyone present. ”Skreeh...Screed?,” she asked the mummy, who gave a slight nod. The forest sprite, who'd risen up from his hiding spot, came to her next. ”Frolic...the doctor. We're friends. I g-guess you brought me back? Eheh...thank you.” Each memory seemed to restore her confidence as well as her body, returning her to full form, but her face became uncertain when she looked at Bonesword. ”You...uh, I don't really...remember. I'm really trying, but I just can't! I'm sorry for being so useless...”

At that, Screed stepped in. “No, no, yer fine. He ain't one of us, ya see.” Crossing his arms, the gunslinger faced Bonesword with narrowed eyes. A guarded look crossed Verrine's features as she stood, her hands balling into fists. “Ah think it's 'bout time he gave an account o' 'imself. Who are ya, pardner, and whatcha doin' in a place where two of our friends were murdered?”

The Cereal Killer

Location: Flooded Historical District
@Propro

Runch's shout met silence, the atmosphere of the abandoned hotel all the more grim, dreary, and haunting because of the invisible, indescribable entities that infested it. Though the pirate couldn't see it, he was surrounded by shadowy figures, some mere inches away from his body and always on the move to avoid being touched. Their master could not be seen either, but after a few moments, a call from down the dimly-lit corridor heralded Davian's presence. “Fine by me,” the voice conceded from its owner's hiding spot. “Even if our powers were good together, we were too inexperienced to stick it to monsters like Crue. Told her, but she wouldn't listen. I'm going, but don't try following me, Mr. Runch. And though I'm going, I'm afraid I can't make any promises. I hate fighting, especially when it's as dangerous as this, but I can't bear the thought of a monster getting his one wish. Even though you beat Crue, someone worse might beat you, and the machine needs every soul.”

Davian appeared from a doorway near the stairwell entrance, his hands above his head as he rushed over to the escape route. “You don't seem like a bad guy, but you could just as easily be one's stepping stone,” he called. Into the open door he slipped, his last words echoing up the stairwell. “That's why we have to stop this tournament, sooner or later! We're not heroes, but as long as there's even the slightest chance of an awful wish threatening the world, we have to intervene!” Then, the man was gone, though continued pursuit was by no means out of the question.

Inari

Location: What Lies Beneath
@Kapuchu

As if on cue, the drone approached the two battered but surviving combatants, hovering nearby. A voice played from it without delay, though one that identified itself as a pre-recorded message just as quickly. “If you're hearing this, one of the GPS tracking signals in your vicinity has been snuffed out, which means that a Phylactery is compromised, a soul taken, and the battle won. Good on you for making it one step closer to your ultimate desire! Feel free to help yourself to any artifacts or other equipment belonging to the defeated party, or even ally yourself with an enemy you spared. You'll need everything you can get for the next round. When your next opponent is ready, this drone's tracking will reengage, which you can tell by the eyelight blinking. Good luck out there!” As the drone's speech ended, its eyelight retained its constant glow, indicating that the immediate future held no more duress for either the fox or the shark.

With the incredible violence the battle out of the way, the cool, calm atmosphere of the great cavern could sweep back in. Robbed of its potential threat, the darkness seemed as gentle as the glow of the bioluminescent fungi. By now the enormous crow appeared to have landed at the foreboding city in the distance, so not even its heavy wingbeats disturbed the quiet. Only the soft echoes of dripping water and the whistling of breezes that spiraled down from the surface reached Lily's ears.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

An annoyed look crossed the Margrave's face. By what right did some lowly soldier criticize him? No matter how quirky the main characters, they took precedence over the fodder; the grunts were only here to provide a sense of normalcy to contrast the heroes' and perhaps die to establish the threat posed by the villains. Sensing that remarking this aloud would more than likely lead to negative consequences, however, Margrave obeyed the peon and kept his silence. In fact, he obeyed it so closely that he failed to utter so much as a peep in response to Alessa's concerned request as he sidled up to the warehouse near her. It was no wonder that her reckless abandon would lead her to arrive at the destination first, while his utmost focus on stealth obliged him to take longer. If you're so worried about getaway vehicles, why don't you go yourself? The soldiers are there to keep an eye while we do our job: taking down the callous fiends holed up in this place. He spotted Epsilon and her escort making their way over, headed for one of the entrances used by the Community's lackeys. I shall have to steer clear of her at all costs. If I become ensnared in her nullification field, every toy I've ferreted away on my person will return to full size instantly, giving away my position and disarming me if not crushing me first. How unfortunate for those who desire to foster our teamwork that our abilities are antithetical.

The Margrave's inner monologue faded as he rerouted his attention to moving forward. 'Tiger Lily' and Epsilon appeared to have already advanced, so he needed to make haste. That said, he hadn't received any orders from the Wards' so-called leader, and even if the others didn't resent him utterly should he act on his own, there could be dire consequences for rash action for one even as talented and enigmatic as he. As such, he inched closer to the goal whilst awaiting a game plan. He did not expect Overlook to jump into action without delay, announcing his presence and demanding that...the thugs voice their questions? Wouldn't it be more appropriate for a peacekeeping force to demand 'drop any weapons and put your hands over your heads. You are under arrest for trespassing!'? What he said wasn't intimidating at all. Though their chaperon had blown his own cover, that didn't mean that the Wards' own positions were compromised—unless, of course, one of the parahumans within the warehouse harbored some tracking ability.

Despite his best efforts at maintaining composure, the Margrave jumped when an unfamiliar voice from inside the warehouse started shouting. ”He doesn't seem bothered giving away his position. How bizarre, to throw away a potential advantage...” Several ideas floated around his head as to why, the first and foremost being that those inside had some sort of backup on the outside, to whom the presence of the Wards had just been broadcasted. So many unknowns when dealing with powers...unless these are gormless curmudgeons, we'll need every advantage we can get. He edged closer to a window, craning his hearing on the voice inside. A moment later, the sound of gunshots reached his ears, bringing a grimace to his features. Great. We've got the lethality factor right off the bat. At the moment, he did not assign much probability to those gunshots being at an ally, since as far as he knew nobody was confronting the enemy directly. If Overlook's drone was the target, he'd be paying the price for sticking his neck out with the destruction of his hardware. Still, the battle has begun. His face remained cold as the unknown voice from earlier identified his group as heroes. In this case, being technically right did not matter; the fact that this villain figured it out indicated either remarkable intuition or some sort of information-gathering ability. As the Margrave's bemusing adversary spoke, his tone full of confidence, things seemed more and more dour. What kind of power do they have that he's acting so full of himself, when there are potentially grade-A Capes out here? He can't be some overblown idiot...we've gotta be out of our league here. All his life, the boy known as Elliot had known disparagement, and at every turn he'd made the same resolution: to never let it get him down. But this was different. Maybe because he was thrust into a dangerous real-life situation, the accusation of not being good enough cut more deeply? He glanced at Messiah, his eyes questioning. When things looked bad, as they now did, it was her job to whip up a solution. He could have put more effort into thinking of something himself, but his anger against her smoldered. This burden was on her. ”Now's your chance to prove yourself, o gracious leader. They...” As another voice spoke up from inside, one tinted by a British accent, he trailed off. This man didn't seem nearly as convinced of his group's superiority as the first, and he advocated retreat. There was a loud clatter of splintering wood against some surface, which might have been another attack against the drone.

Moving automatically, the Margrave pulled out his toy gun and released his power over it, returning it to its proper form as a MAC-10. While he possessed only rubber bullets, the Community parahumans didn't know that, so the weapon offered some solace. Still, the vociferous one's words weighed heavy on his mind, making him think that the doubt of the second speaker might have been an attempt at a trap. I can't make the first move. From the voice coming to him over the Wards' comms, a similar paralysis seized Lily. What were they going to do?

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

Slayer
Level 5 || Day 3 – Morning || On the Doom Train
@Zarkun @Majoras End @Tenma Tendo @ONL
Experience: |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (14/50)
Word count: 510

To change direction midair, and launch forward with a burst of speed, was no easy feat. Slayer envied those who possessed such a capability, known commonly as an 'airdash', to some degree, though in truth no real jealousy stained his heart. When Warwick's traplike maw snapped shut around his forearm, he did wince from the pain, but the deeper wound by far was not predicting that his bestial opponent might have the ability to airdash. I must be growing lax...resting on my laurels, the gentleman chided himself. He did not internalize the struggle, however, and kept a close eye on his foe. More than the machinery on Warwick's back implied that this creature wasn't some mindless monster. An animal's natural cunning could be frightening, but brutal strength with a directing intelligence struck Slayer as a more pertinent threat.

As he watched, shaking his arm back and forth to keep his foe's grip occupied, the doodads mounted on the werewolf's back injected him with a virulent-looking green fluid. Time to act, before whatever bonus that liquid conveys can integrate with his body. Slayer pulled his free hand back to deliver a point-blank punch to the beast's defenseless noggin -one that he anticipated should end the fight in that instant- but Warwick's momentum carried through. Still using Jaws of the Beast, the wolf swung around to Slayer's opposite side, using the gentleman's poor arm as a tether and straining its fibers with his weight. ”Hrgh!” he grunted, pivoting like a boxer to prevent his enemy from getting behind him. ”You're tenacious. I still haven't figured out whether you're intelligent or not, but as far as I'm concerned, you've done well enough with one move to earn my attention.”

Until that moment, he'd been making sure to give each of his allies at least a cursory inspection. None appeared to have an outright advantage over their foes, and at the moment each seemed to be learning what their opponents were made of. After an impressive display of alacrity, Joker made his attack only to find his bullets ineffective against his opponent's armor. Before Heavy could really start pumping out his no doubt absurd amount of damage, the deformed monster he faced interrupted him and brought him closer with a hurled meathook. Meanwhile, Six appeared to be confounded by her adversary, who exhibited no averse reaction to her dark energies. ”We're fighting on their terms,” Slayer called. ”There are some battles that cannot be won on their own. Consider exchanging opponents if you can't make any progress.” His eyebrows narrowed as he turned back to the werewolf, his teeth gritted from the agony of teeth piercing his flesh. “As for me...”

Warwick's jaws snapped shut as Slayer vanished into thin air. He reappeared a few feet to the beast's left, already swinging. Around his outstretched fingers, plumes of violet fire formed claws to execute a brutal sideswipe—the move known as Under Pressure, a cruel attack that staggered its foes more often than not, giving an opportunity for its user to perform a full combo.

My Villain Academia - Our World Not Theirs!

I'm not too sure we have all that much room left in this we got a lot of people I guess I'll let just one more person in just in case as activity hasn't been as good the past few days.

@vancexentan

Cool. I hadn't guessed that the RP would be short on space, since it's set as 'Large Group', there are 5 characters currently, and the join status is 'Apply', but it looks like I've lucked out. I appreciate it, and will get cracking on my character application soon.

My Villain Academia - Our World Not Theirs!

Having recently watched My Hero Acadamia, and thoroughly enjoyed both it and its world, I've been on the hunt for an RP of one, but a Villain Acadamia sounds like fun, too. May I join you all here?

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

@LugubriousAlpha group. Also, I will allow the pendant to go into her inventory. However, the starting abilities must be specified in the General Abilities section.

@Holy Soldier

You got it.

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

My newest submission: the Lady of the Lake

Azura

Character Name: Azura

Kingdom: Intsys, one of the realms of Nintendo

Visual Description:

The Lady of the Lake

Written Description: Slender and pale, with extremely long, light-blue hair and yellow eyes, Azura possesses a willowy, reserved beauty. Though often seen in white, in the world of Project: Crossover she is garbed in a slightly more practical purple outfit, though one still defined by its theatrical, flowing extravagance, and she does wear Grecian sandals rather than going barefoot. In addition to her pendant, she possesses a sparkling purple veil worn around her shoulders, which can be stretched over the bottom half of her face or unfolded completely to act as an obscuring cloak. Lastly, in anticipation of action, she's done up her hair into a single, gigantic braid, tied with black ribbons, that hangs behind her.

Personality: Due to the heavy rejection, bullying, and discrimination she faced in her time as a princess in Nohr, and the distrust from some of the people in Hoshido due to said Nohrian ties, Azura developed a reserved and stoic personality, sprouting from her fear of provocation and rejection, only opening up to people she is close to. This stoicism can sometimes cause her to hurt others' feelings without meaning to, though via bluntness rather than naiveté, as she is not afraid of telling someone what she thinks of them. She is self-aware about this, however. When she does open up, she proves to have quite the mischievous side. Despite that, she is never cruel and tries to help those she criticizes overcome a flaw or problem by pointing it out to them. Although she can get slightly emotional at times, Azura is kindhearted and surprisingly knowledgeable about many things. Although she is somewhat cynical and world-weary, she does in the end want to make the world a better place. Though neat and tidy, she has an awful cases of bed hair and is a restless sleeper. She also has a weakness for cute things and enjoys telling scary stories.

Game: Fire Emblem: Fates

Current Story: Born as the princess of Valla, the Invisible Kingdom, a shattered realm hidden below the earth accessible only once every few decades via the Bottomless Canyon, Azura knew isolation from an early age. When the kingdom's guardian deity, the Silent Dragon Anankos, fell to the degenerative madness common to all dragonkind and threatened the kingdom, Azura and her mother Arete were some of the few who escaped to the surface world. There, Arete became the second wife of King Garon of Nohr, and both she and her daughter experienced much rejection from the Nohrian people. Seeking solace in the arts, Azure grew proficient at singing and dancing, as well as spearmanship. Following Garon's abduction of Corrin, scion of the kingdom Hoshido, Azura was kidnapped as well. In Hoshido, however, she was treated with respect and love. War between the two kingdoms lay on the horizon at all times, but for the first time the princess knew peace and comfort.

Weapon(s): Blessed Lance – a decorated pike imbued with the divine property of bonus damage versus monsters, and a small regenerative boost for the wielder

Stats

Level One

(P)Damage: 2
(P)Defense: 1
(M)(E)Damage: 2
(M)(E)Defense: 2
Dexterity: 3

XP: |||||||||| (0/10)

Squad: (Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, or Delta)

General Abilities

Slot One. Pendant – a unique piece of silver jewelry that encapsulates a shard of the Silent Dragon's Dragonstone. It is a source of great power associated with the element of water. Azura's song and dance can awaken its power, which has numerous uses, including creating water, purifying darkness, and soothing allies' anger or fatigue

Special Abilities

Slot One.

Items
Slot One.
Slot Two.
Slot Three.

Strengths

+Natural Performer: Azura has cultivated her natural talent in singing and dancing to an exceptional level. Her songs enchant the ears of her listeners, and her rhythmic motions steal the eyes of her onlookers. Perhaps because of the self-control and poise that such performances demand, she conducts herself in all situations with effortless grace and serenity, including battle
+Lucky Star: Though things seem bleak for the Lady of the Lake on occasion, she possesses a pretty profound lucky streak, and a lot of the time small things seem to go her way
+Enigmatic: Despite her gifts and her looks, Azura is quiet and reserved, and easily forgettable by those with only a passing knowledge of her. For many, she just fades into the background. If she shrinks down in a hiding place and remains quiet, she can be extremely difficult to spot at all
+Aqueous: Azura's affinity with water surpasses what can be considered normal. She can hold her breath for an exceptionally long time, move through water with way-less-than-normal resistance, withstand a huge amount of water pressure, and see through water almost as well as air

Weaknesses
-Azura is not, in terms of training or physical ability, a mainline soldier. Her defenses, particularly physical, are lacking
-Usage of the Pendant's power causes pain to her proportional to the power used, with greater amounts of power causing additional, agonizing detriments

Achievements

The Crucible - Winner Take All

@Lugubrious
Hey so... I'm a bit lost for who Bonesword's next opponent is... who would that be?

@Gardevoiran

That would be Pithy.

Somehow I didn't realize you changed your name, so your mention escaped my notice. My bad.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Knight Sylvestre

Location: Oldtown

Few words were spoken as the three, battered and exhausted, filed through the bar & grill's door one by one. With nobody around to seat them, they piled whatever equipment they carried on the welcome desk before installing themselves at a fully-furnished table. Souta mentioned drinks, which Cyril approved of, but for now a few moments to just sit and give their aches some relief seemed good enough. He sat there for some time in silence, looking around the building while the others stewed over their inconceivable fight. This restaurant had all the personal touches he might expect from a city tavern back home, from knickknacks gathered far and wide to portraits of what he supposed were this world's famous people. The whole place featured a theme he didn't quite understand; all along the shelves were various balls and pieces of equipment that vaguely resembled weapons and armor, but did not at all seem suitable for warfare. Several of the strange, rectangular devices that resembled solid tapestries of glass and plastic littered the joint, newer and sleeker—looking than the one he found in the house last night. Cyril craned his neck a little too far to try to figure out what was scrawled in a loopy hand on one of the portraits, and the resulting pain made him grimace. He settled down to stay as still as possible, leaving him with either conversation or boredom as his only options.

Five minutes passed before Souta, the least injured of the trio, rose from the table. He said nothing, but the direction he took indicated that he'd be returning with something to eat or drink in a moment. As the smith went, Cyril wondered if he'd burden himself trying to get victuals for him and Juniper. Though the man might have just as well been family after the ordeal they went through together, his rather surly manner indicated that he might not. These thoughts slid into contemplation about Souta himself, then Juniper. Who were they really? How much of their depth did this tournament demand quashed, for the sake of its bloody competition? Cyril couldn't count himself as a gregarious man, but he wanted to get to know them better. It seemed the human thing to do, and as far as he could tell, everyone in this accursed place needed a reminder that they were human.

Although, if I remember correctly, there's a few nonhumans among the tournament roster. A wonder I haven't found any yet.

He didn't realize that Souta had returned until a tray plopped down on the table. Taken by surprise but too rattled already to be startled, Cyril silently chided himself for his assumptions about Souta's character as he surveyed the tray's contents. Three bottles, undoubtedly full of alcohol, and three plates of simple, unprepared food lay before them. “Thank you,” the vanguard told Souta, his politeness a trained reflex. Juniper echoed the remark of gratitude, and after the smith sat down the three began to pick at their portions. I should have expected that we would all be more civil than our battle manner would imply. He sampled the food, a cold, triangular length of hard bread topped with cheese and some sort of tomato sauce, but decided against eating. Instead, he took a swig of the beer before glancing at the others. Neither Juniper nor Souta displayed much interest in eating, either. “So...” he began in a low, serious tone, “Tournament's over, College is after us. We didn't have a choice, but now that we've killed one of 'em...” He let the statement hang in the air, its implication clear. Things would only get harder from here.

“Bet the Wishing Machine hasn't moved.”

Cyril stared at Juniper for a moment. He hadn't suspected that the urge to fight might remain in her heart. A pointed look entered his eyes...did she want him to continue? And if so, why? “...Maybe.”

For a moment, the martial artist didn't continue. It was Souta who filled the gap. “If you're thinking of fighting on, and trying to get your wish, there is something you should know. You're not the first tournament people I've met. Yesterday night, there was a creepy guy who approached me. Dressed all in black, with black hair. I sized him up best I could without getting nosy. He had fangs, and this weird spirit aura coming off him. He might be the guy you gotta fight next.”

Without much in the way of surprise, Cyril mulled over the information. He realized before long that the others were looking at him expectantly, which made him frown. Though neither had voiced a question, the choice had been laid out for him. He could back out of the tournament and survive, returning to his world via cooperation with the College, or he could press on and find out of the Wishing Machine really did exist. He ruminated about the possibility of College duplicity, but after a few second he closed his eyes and bowed his head. What am I thinking? No matter the foe, his mission was most important. For even the possibility of ending all evil -all suffering- he should be unafraid to put his life on the line. That, said the stories, was what a knight should do. Cyril opened his eyes. “Yeah. Good to know. I'll keep an eye out as I look for my next opponent, though I don't know where I'll find him.” A strange question occurred to him, given the circumstances. In a way he'd been taking something for granted, but he needed to know for sure. Clasping his hands and putting his elbows on the table, he asked the others, “Either of you coming with me?”

Juniper's solemn face did not change, but the vanguard could see the spark of resolution in her eyes. “I will not forget what you did to me, Cyril. But...I am used to pain, and losing things. Today was the first time I got back something I lost, and I will not lose my chance to get my wish. I am also concerned about it falling into the wrong hands. The annoying man said we were both heroes, and that us fighting did not make sense. I will come with you.”

After he swallowed the bit of pizza he'd been chewing, Souta shook his head. “I'd like to help, but I serve...er, let's say a 'higher authority.' I'm looking for a way out of this mess, and it isn't my fight to begin with. You need anything made or mended, you come back to me, but I'm not gonna risk my neck.”

Cyril gave a nod. “So be it. I hate to put you to work, but my armor needs drastic repairs. Do you know how long it might take?”

“Even for a whiz like me, a couple hours. I saw the state it was in,” Souta shrugged.

A few more words were exchanged, and all was settled. It was at that time that a drone appeared, and Nero's announcement came to them. The next match would occur when one contestant's drone led the way to his or her opponent. Though somewhat alarming, the news assured Juniper and Cyril that they had some time to recover, and to prepare for the next battle.

The Fungal Knight

Location: Government Hub
@Gardevoiran

Even with the reassurance of dandelion parachutes, the fall for Bonesword and his basil-isk was a long and frightening one. Down, down, down they plummeted, away from the colorful confines of the clowns' tent-shaped ship. Without much room to maneuver, they landed at a nonlethal speed on the flat, gray-black roof of an office building. Overhead the Big Top sailed blithely onward, unaware of its skeletal discharge. None of its occupants popped out of the gash Bonesword carved, indicating that they were unwilling to risk the fall themselves. Strange and mysterious as a UFO, the Big Top hovered away into the distance, its bearing north-by-northeast.

Around Bonesword stood a well-developed, clean, organized portion of city. Everything sported a certain air of grandeur and officialism, indicating that this bloc might be used for administrative purposes. Only one thing marred this impression: an appalling trail of destruction clear across a nearby business park, as though a fiery sphere had rolled across the ground, leaving a distinct trail of char, and punched clean through several cars and a few other objects. More remarkable than this, though, was the group of individuals situated in that spot.

There were two of them, whose unique bodies befouled initial inspection. One could be described as a forest sprite, though in truth, it looked more like an angel made of twisting wooden branches and roots. Instead of arms, it had wispy fans of twigs for wings, knotted together in a rough approximation of feathers. All across the wings, tender shoots hung down as strings to hold windchimes and the effigies of hanged men. Little greenish-yellow lights, diluted as they were by the daylight, danced within its split husk of a chest, and its head was a thick clump of roots radiating outward as a crown. Torn into the left side of the face was a single hole, and from within it radiated a soothing light dimmed by the sun's glare.

The other fit the succinct summation of a mummified cowboy. With a poncho, a wide-brimmed hat, bandage wrappings all across his body, and pieces of antiquated armor made to look like bones, he cut quite the figure. This rustic undead appeared to be squatting over a smear in the pavement, staring at it intently. “'Ey, Frolic. Ah think this is 'er. Resurrection, if ya don' mind. Ah reckon 'er sisters'll be glad t'see 'er agin.”

Perking up, the sprite drifted over, and knelt over the smear. From the cavities in its head and body a stream of gentle light poured as though from a fountain. It suffused the smear entirely, and when it faded a minute later, a puddle of a rosy pink substance lay where the smear had been. The gunslinger stood up, saying, “That'll do 'er. Just a li'l while 'til she's right as rain.”

Meanwhile, a drone zoomed in from the distance to stop beside Bonesword. Quiet enough so that those below didn't hear, it relayed the message to the skeleton that all contestants heard a short time ago, telling him that the drone would point in the direction of his next opponent.

The Cereal Killer and Book Keeper

Location: Flooded Historical District
@Propro @BCTheEntity

Any self-satisfaction Aralynn might have been feeling when she thought of the plan to drop a tower on Motley evaporated when she watched him, bug-eyed, as a tiny beam blasted from the vampire's eye to slice the chunk of building in half with almost laughable precision. The pieces splashed into the water to Motley's left and his right, sending a spray of droplets into the air along with loose masonry, and from that haze of water and rubble a second beam burst forth. So surprised was the woman that the sight of the liquid laser forced her to instinctively flinch, throwing up her arms and turning her face away in a useless attempt to protect herself. In an instant the beam pierced her, traveling through skin, flesh, and inner organs and out the other side, directly into one of the figments of her brother's stand.

When the laser struck the Boys of Summer, it froze in time, as though paused. Without delay it began to turn gray, become more distorted in the manner of the image on a faulty TV set. In less than two seconds the beam faded into static alongside the wounds it made and the entity it struck, as though it had never existed.

Aralynn blinked, shocked that -from her perspective- nothing had happened. She hadn't long to be thankful, however, for there appeared to be a pirate plummeting straight toward her. From Runch's outstretched hands a torrent of flaming cereal rained down, threatening to blow them to smithereens. The twins, overwhelmed at the moment, scattered. Davian dashed backward, shouldering his way through the door he'd come through a short time before just too slow to avoid the first barrage of Hellberries, but to Runch's perspective the resulting blasts seemed to just flicker and disappear. The other twin, meanwhile, jumped off the side of the balcony down into the water; she did not think to stand there and rely on Boys of Summer to take the hit for her. Behind her, the remainder of the bombardment obliterated the balcony, and the remaining Boys of Summer in the area were nowhere to be found.

Davian's voice sounded out from inside the hotel. “Our 'invincible strategy' does not appear to be working out, dear sister!” he yelled. “Backup plan, now!” Hoping that his twin could hear him, he rushed through the room and toward the upstairs hallway, headed for the back of the building.

By that time, Aralynn had submerged herself, and a new idea occurred to her. Remaining underwater, she unleashed volley after volley of medium missiles to travel through the water like torpedoes, totally unhindered by water resistance. Unseen thanks to the murk but able to seek thanks to their size, they split into two groups to target both enemies, beneath whom they would burst up from the depths to explode from below.

Sunspot

Location: the Park
@FloodTalon

Jin's disfigured opponent smirked. “Got stung, did you?” He taunted from his hiding spot, ignoring the assassin's ultimatum. “Don't worry, that stuff's not poison. Woulda thought you'd figure out what it did already, genius. If not, just wait. It'll take soon enough.” For a few seconds, the swirling clouds of leaves hung in the air, as though in anticipation.

The skin on Jin's arm began to change. It turned white and dead at an alarming rate, then started to flake off. In a matter of seconds the epidermis on his entire arm, right to the top of his bicep, fell away in a shower of grayish-white slivers. Instead of landing on the ground, the flakes gained lives of their own, dancing through the air to join Pieter's swarm. Exposed to the air, the dermis gave him a steady, burning pain.

Still behind cover, Pieter called out, “Feeling it now? Get used to it, dickweed! Weird Autumn's gonna take you apart, layer by layer!” Large portions of the leaf storm began to separate from the main reservoir, condensing into giant lances poised to thrust down at Jin any second.

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

I don't see anything wrong with Piper. She is good to go in my book. @Lugubrious Comments?

@Holy Soldier

Seems fine to me.