Lugubrious

My Villain Academia - Our World Not Theirs!

I've been focused elsewhere. Are we (the fighters) allowed to make up the heroes, sidekicks, and police officers and control their actions as we fight them, or do you want to do that?

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Knight Sylvestre

Location: Oldtown

The sun made remarkable progress in little over an hour, staining the dimming blue heavens yellow and orange as it slid down toward the horizon. With restoration begun on Cyril's armor, the Vanguard and the God Hand took it easy for the sake of their wounds. They had worked together to retrieve their surviving attacker from where she'd been laid out cold and install her in one of the restaurant's booths, and now sat as they waited for her to awaken.

Ever patient, Cyril nevertheless allowed his mind to wander. It helped to not concentrate on the aches and pains that filled him, even as they grew steadily less prominent. Though neither he nor Juniper felt like being talkative, they had agreed that since they were to work together, they should figure out to do it. With a pretty intimate knowledge of each others' basic capabilities due to their fight, they discovered to their mutual surprise a great deal of depth neither would have guessed. To know and to understand were, after all, two different things. Cyril found himself intrigued by Juniper's summoning and ritualistic sealing, neither of which came out during their duel earlier in the day. Once she learned the mechanics of Sheen, Juniper came to respect Cyril's creative and pragmatic usage of the simple power to boost and redirect momentum. The two confirmed that both could throw or boost the other, and resolved to do so for a surprise attack when the situation called. Not long after Juniper suggested that she could project a rope to snare and retrieve Cyril's shield should he throw it, or to create a deadly saw-flail. In turn, the Vanguard guessed that he could transfer his momentum boost to her if he activated it while holding her. That one, the two tentatively took to the plaza to test, and after a few failed attempts and other experiments they returned to the restaurant confident in their shared ability. If a finishing blow was called for, he could rocket her into position to deal a God Unleash: Strength with monumental force. Neither knew what to expect from their next opponent, but the thought was exciting.

Another half hour passed before the stand user woke up. She twitched, blinking, before sitting upright in her booth. When her bleary vision cleared, she could see Cyril and Juniper seated opposite her, and she adopted a grim look. They said nothing to begin with, so a couple more seconds passed before the woman noticed something and addressed them. “Howell?”

Cyril's frown did not change. “If you mean the man you came here with, he's dead.”

The woman stared at the napkin dispenser on the table. “...Ah...”

Her response left Juniper incredulous. “You look shocked,” she remarked in a sharp tone. “You attacked us. Assaulted us with something we didn't understand or know how to fight against, backed us into a corner. Kill or be killed.” Cyril nodded, being close to saying something similar.

“I'm guessing you didn't kill me because you wanted information, then.” The woman's gaze flashed between the two competitors. “Well, I don't want to die. What do you want to know?”

“Cooperative, huh?” the Vanguard sneered. He glanced at his ally to see if she felt like grilling their former foe, but she shrugged, so he continued. “Let's start with your name.”

“Raleigh Barnaby.”

“You're with the college?” Raleigh nodded. “We didn't find any Artifacts on you. What was that power you two used?”

Taking a deep breath, the woman started to explain. “They're called Stands. As best we know, they are ghostlike projections of one's spirit, or soul. They are mostly invisible to normal people, and they can't be hurt by anything other than another Stand, either. But there's some inconsistency, like whatever came up with them forgot to follow its own rules. Each one has one unique power.”

“Well?”

Still bearing a dark expression, Raleigh kept her voice icy. “They aren't totally in tune with us, but for the most part we give them commands, so we came up with names to use. My 'Humbling River' pours out a torrent of water from its jug, which makes an impenetrable barrier. At least, that's what we thought after testing earlier today. You got inside it...somehow.” Her resentment came thinly veiled. “Howell named his 'Journey.' It didn't manifest like the rest, but stretched down from a point in the sky whenever he called it to attack. Looks like a giant alien, sort of.”

“You said 'we',” Cyril prodded. “There are more of you?”

Raleigh looked as though she were seated on hot coals. “...Yes.”

“You know, it's pretty nice of us to not be conducting this interview by chopping off your fingers or something. Tell us all about whatever I ask, if you please, starting with the others and these 'Stands' of theirs.”

To steady her breath, Raleigh focused for a minute, then continued. “Aralynn and Davian Thule, with Heatseeker and Boys of Summer. Margaret Fontain and her Manic Drive. Emilia Redsmith and Wild Nothing. Pieter LeGroning has Weird Autumn, and Jaroslava has Pure Imagination. My husband, Edward Barnaby, has Kno One.”

Cyril's eyes narrowed. “No-one?”

“That's its name.”

“Okay.” He crossed his arms. “I take it you weren't born with this stuff, so where did you get them?”

A hand ran through Raleigh's hair. “A man named Nero found an arrow that can give one to whoever it stabs, as long as that person has the aptitude.”

Juniper and Cyril shared a glance. After a moment, the latter's voice came again, low and urgent. “Where is the arrow now?”

“Downtown, which you cannot get to, in the hands of Fontain, whom you cannot hope to defeat. I don't understand her power, but it's terrifying.”

“Why can't we get there?”

“Because of the giant chasm south of here.”

“So how did you get here?”

The slightest flinch crossed Raleigh's countenance as she answered. “Dropped off by helicopter. Those are the black things you've seen flying over the city today, with what look like saws on top of them.”

The interrogation did not last much longer. It provided little that Juniper and Cyril could act on, but a lot of valuable information nonetheless. If what Raleigh said was true, an object existed in the City of Echoes that could confer a monstrous advantage to whoever possessed it. That was dangerous, especially given the College's new mission as stated by Raleigh to stop the tournament, but it was also an opportunity to help make Cyril's wish reality. For now, however, they would have to wait in anticipation of their next battle. After some consideration, the pair locked Raleigh up in one of the restaurant's back rooms, then resumed their collaboration.

The Lady in White

Location: Kno One
@Lazo

“Of course,” came the resonance, assailing Pithy from all sides. “This place might as well be me, after all. As for Nero, I think it would be in your best interests to think about yourself first.” Midway on the sorceress's trip to the unmarked door, a number of two-inch-diameter pipes appeared beneath her. They stretched up from the floor -no, phased through it- and attempted to lash around her limbs, bending like pool noodles with a hideous wrenching sound despite appearing to be made from metal. To either side of her, a table began to move. Their legs moving them like animals', the two heavy wooden tables rushed toward her from opposite sides, aiming to crush her while the pipes prevented her from getting out of the way.

The Fungal Knight

Location: Government Hub
@Gardevoiran

“Hm?” Screed paused for a moment, his voice indicating bemusement. “A ride...on yer plant monster?” Good-natured as Bonesword's request had been, neither the mummy nor the slime seemed to think of it as anything more than weird. “Oh, to where we're 'eaded. Heheh, 'fraid Ah'm gonna have to decline. We got our own way back—instant one-way ticket 'ome.” Holding up his hand, Screed showed off the signet ring on his own finger. Taking told of it with the index finger and thumb on his other hand, he began to twist the emblem, which made an audible clicking noise as it began to light up with a white glow. Before whatever adjustment he was making could complete, however, he let go, and the emblem snapped back into its original position.

Adopting a thinking pose with one hand on her chin and the other crossed beneath her chest for the first other elbow to rest on, Verrine glanced at Bonesword. “So you're not from this world, either?” Her eyes widened, and she turned to Screed with balled fists upheld in excitement. “The tournament might be gathering people from across dimensions! If we can figure out what's causing the shift, we can not only go home, but maybe even find the 'home dimension' that the other Great Beings returned to!” Eyes watering, she turned her gaze toward the ground, clasping her hands. “We could all be together again, just like the way things used to be. You'd see your creator again, and the others...Carreau would be so happy...if I won, my wish would have been to find a way, but maybe we can make it real anyway!”

A moment of quiet passed before Screed coughed. “Er...yer quick on the uptake, missy, but while ye were...uh, dead, the rest of us kinda came t'the same conclusion.” He cracked his neck, glancing at Bonesword a moment before continuing. His next words held what some might term 'classified information,' but this skeleton-man seemed alright, and not much of a threat. “Deadbeat Sky's gone underground. Boss thinks the important stuff's 'idden somewhere thereabouts, and Ah ain't fixin' to disagree.” Screed's eyes lingered on Bonesword. “Ah ain't sentimental, either, but it's always nice t'meet a fellow undead. Good luck in the proceedin's, pardner. See ya 'round.”

Screed made a half-turn so that he, Frolic, and Verrine formed a rough triangle. “Let's boogie.” All three began to fiddle with their rings, preparing to warp away.

The Book Keeper

Location: Flooded Historical District
@BCTheEntity

A number of muted explosions sounded out across the watery expanse, their percussion accompanied by blasts of water from beneath the surface. Thanks to a combination of debris and Heavy Fuel's remnants, not a single one of Aralynn's underwater missiles hit their mark. Once the waves died down and the echoes ceased, a moment of comparative quiet took hold. No sound came from inside the building to suggest a struggle between Runch and Davian, allowing Motley a chance to perceive his surroundings. The water proved too murky to see through, but it wasn't long before his opponent made herself known once more.

A pained gasp for air broke the silence as Aralynn hauled herself up onto a sloped section of street about three hundred feet away. She dragged herself up from the water, but could barely get a few inches before flopping down face-first onto the pavement. As the dirty water dripped away, it gave way to blood. A great many lacerations covered the woman head-to-toe, some still bearing the pieces of debris that caused them, stick in her clothes or skin. Her ears bled profusely, their damage owing to the shockwave with which Crue bombarded the lake. Her arms and face appeared blackened, as if burned or corroded by some virulent substance, which more than likely meant that Aralynn had been hit with a bit of Heavy Fuel's body. For a few moments she seemed alone, but in short order some Boys of Summer approached from different directions to take up positions around her. From their lack of other activity it seemed that they could not negate harm already inflicted, but instead prevent harm from happening. Her shaking told Crue that despite her great injury she remained alive.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

@Lugubrious Oh snap, I had completely forgotten about the bit the journal mentioned about asking for help! But it works, because Runch definitely wouldn't have remembered at this point. Or rather, he'd have believed the danger was over. So it's a good progression. On a separate note, is there anything you'd like to do with my side character, since Roughdragon has announced his dropping out?

@ProPro

I've been thinking about it, but I'm not sure what to do with him. Perhaps we can discuss what you have in mind with him in a PM.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

@BCTheEntity, @FloodTalon, I would like a post from both of you within the next three days.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

The Lady in White

Location: Government Hub
@Lazo

Inside the restaurant called Moscow Caliber was an interior in pristine condition. With a moody, dark, foreign atmosphere and walls adorned by all sorts of Russian knickknacks and collectibles, it seemed to embrace as best its designers could the culture of the country of the city from which its name was derived. Each formidable wood table appeared laden with empty dishes and cups, utensils, napkins, and so forth, as though for a great crowd soon to arrive. To the intruder, to whom magic served as second nature, a slight but strange aura wafted through the place, quite unlike anything she encountered before.

A few steps after Pithy cleared the doorway, the door closed behind her. It moved in a gentle, quiet fashion, but entirely without any kind of visible impetus, and after the soft click of the latch its deadbolt slid in as well. If subjected to physical examination, it would prove quite impervious to movement, be it fiddling or forcing. A few seconds later a bass male voice echoed through the facility, familiar yet unplaceable both in identity and in position due to its reverberation. It could not in any sense, however, be attributed to Nero LeMure.

“Welcome, Pithy,” it greeted. “As I thought, Oren's new 'friend' shows her face again. Or should I say 'Nero'? We learned a lot today, through the secret cameras implanted in his tower. It's been an exceptionally interesting afternoon, but please don't think of me as his friend or avenger. Whatever went between you two doesn't matter. Just allow me to reassure you that his charade is done.”

The voice filled the place, resonating from every surface and object. It, and the unknown aura she felt before, surrounded Pithy completely, bombarding her sense of security.

“I must admit I do not have all the facts, but despite his bravado he is neither strong nor clever. I smelt a rat from the moment he appeared wanting to join the College, telling lies with a smile on his face. I humored him, observing the whole time, though it was only recently that he started throwing around magic so freely. Fascinating, really, but now that he has helped us achieve great things under the impression he was fooling us all, he is no longer useful to us.”

The voice took on a sharper tone. “You must be wondering about me, so let me give you a hint. There's one thing you should understand about me, Pithy, and it's that I pride myself on being a man of learning. With that in mind, I have a sort of test for you. If you can retrieve your foolish friend from where I'm holding him in this building and bring him to the front door, I will let you go. From there, feel free to do whatever you please with him—if you were to kill him, as I am sure you're longing to do after what he did to you, I would not begrudge it. I am positive that trying to escape or fight me has crossed your mind, but I assure you it is quite impossible. Just try to survive, and accomplish this task. You see, I would be happy to relieve you of your phylactery, but I am even more interested in seeing what my new understudy, Kno One, can do. Let's start with something simple.”

From the two nearest tables, eight plates each levitated a foot upward, began to spin, then shot toward Pithy like discuses in volleys of two.

The Fungal Knight

Location: Government Hub
@Gardevoiran

“Huh. 'Kay.” Screed abruptly holstered his revolver, no more convincing needed. Either he believed Bonesword with absolute sincerity, or he simply did not care enough to keep up the standoff and felt confident enough in his quick-draw to be able to put down any threat the skeleton presented. Putting his hands halfway inside his pockets, the mummified gunslinger examined the new arrival through rheumy eyes, then followed his pointed sword to the gaudy UFO spinning off into the sky. “Yep, Ah seen it before. Clotho told us after 'er last scoutin' trip there were giant tent ships flyin' 'round. Also told us 'bout the tournament. Ol' Frolic here 'ad t'revive 'er too.” He gave a wry chuckle—a raspy, unpleasant noise. “Looks like Air Rave ain't doin' so hot.”

As her comrade spoke, Verrine had continued to be wary of Bonesword, but she did not interrupt. The manner in which she seemed to be trying to conduct herself suggested that Screed held a position as her superior of some sort, but the cowboy's rather laidback manner made any sort of chain of command difficult to discern. When Screed finished, she clasped her hands and addressed Bonesword directly. ”If Mr. Screed trusts you...I suppose I will too. If that's the case, maybe you can help us out. Can you tell us anything about this city? It looks like human civilization, but I haven't seen any, and it's pretty strange compared to what we're used to.”

Another chuckle issued from Screed. “Huhuh! Not a minute back from the dead and yer down to business, huh, Verrine? Ah wager it'd be best if we 'ightailed it back to base. Yer sisters're worried sick, and Carreau would be mighty pleased t'know yer safe.”

If the slime woman's face could have turned more rosy-pink, it did in the following moments. She clutched at her hair, stammering, ”Y-you think? H-has he been, uh, b-been waiting for me?”

Letting out a few more guttural chortles, Screed removed a ring from his pocket and presented it to Verrine, who took it without hesitation. As he did, the matching ring on Screed's own finger could be glimpsed for an instant: a signet ring with the insignia of feathered wings arranged to form a whirlwind. The forest sprite floated nearer, prompting Screed to nod before he turned toward Bonesword. “Well pardner, it's been a quick but fine encounter. If ya 'ave anythin' t'say, Mister Sin-clair, spit it out 'fore we disappear.”

The Cereal Killer

Location: Flooded Historical District
@Propro

A faint, derisive laugh could be heard from the first floor through the stairwell. “Mind your own business, pirate! Even if I was in the mood to spill the beans, you're strong enough, and you probably wouldn't have the potential to begin with!” The sound of rushed footsteps went quiet, allowing a brief moment of clarity through the building. Then Davian's voice came again. “By the way, asking me for help was a bad idea.” Then came the sound of the first floor door slamming, and the young man was gone.

Runch was not, however, alone.

The Boys of Summer summoned to protect Davian had disappeared along with him, but now more shadow-people were appearing around the captain. They climbed in through the windows, opening doors that to Runch seemed to open themselves, and en masse they surrounded the cereal-attuned corsair. Davian's voice came again, but this time it sounded as though it were being whispered by twenty voices all at once. ”We didn't get much time to test this afternoon, but even so, we learned a few things. Boys of Summer has no offensive ability, but these 'stands' as you call them have a few constants. They can't be touched or hurt by non-stands, but they can interact with real things, like fictional poltergeists. And obviously, they can be used to communicate, like psychic projections. Since I'm not a scumbag, I won't try to make them attack you, but they will remain with you as long as I'm separated from my sister in order to prevent you attacking her. Convince her to retreat, and Crue to let her, and we can forget this whole thing ever happened.”

Inari

Location: What Lies Beneath
@Kapuchu

Still wary of the mushroom forest, with as many unknowns as it had hiding spots, the trio of fox, shark, and dog skirted around its edge through the dark. The detour took some time, and though the forest thinned as it mingled with the slope ramping up into the cavern wall, the footing became trickier. All the same, Lily and her cohorts made their trek north toward the ancient city. Bereft of any sort of road, their path took them across or around small pools of water, clusters of stone fallen from the ceiling, pillars knocked down by the great crow, and unnatural stone formations that could only have been erected or chiseled out by intelligent beings.

As Lily got closer, it became apparent that a wall surrounded the city, but the twenty-foot barrier did not present a problem comparable to the gargantuan black bird crouched down on the cave floor, close to the city as it could get. Except for the flicker of its dark eyes, the crow remained still, yet movement could still be glimpsed across its back. Difficult-to-discern figures scurried about on the citadel's bridges and behind its windows, and the purple light that flooded the city silhouetted a small number of winged figures on the move. Hidden by the shadows, Lily's party continued its slow advance.

“Evening.”

The unremarkable voice came from a stone pillar to the group's right. In one of its alcoves, a figure easily mistaken for a carved relief -thanks to his dark gray longcoat- leaned against the rock with arms crossed. There came a clicking noise, and a lantern attached to the strangers' sash belt lit up. It revealed little about him, for his face was hidden by a crested visor-helmet combination, but the man kept his posture nonthreatening as he crouched down and took a casual seated position. “Sorry for surprising you. I come...in peace.”

He glanced off to the side, the lenses of his visor narrowing as he scratched the back of his head. “Agh, was that too cheesy? It's tough to figure out what to say. Do I try and be genuine? Mysterious to match my getup? Now I bet I sound like a lunatic, so I'll move on.” Reaching up with both hands, he removed the helmet to reveal the face of an owl. “If you were wondering how I found you, that's why. That plus the zoom lens in my visor.” He smiled—a bizarre and unsettling expression, given that he had a beak, because he smiled not with the beak but with a hidden, disturbingly human mouth just beneath it. “Your fight with that monster was pretty amazing! I wouldn't want to tangle with any of you. Especially someone as cool as a mech shark. 'Brucie', right? Like the big guy from Finding Nemo.” His golden eyes landed on Mouse. “Aww.” he gushed. “What a cute little guy. Dangerous taking him to a place like this, though.” Sensing that his jabbering might be overwhelming, he adopted a concerned expression, clasping his hands. “Er, I don't mean to monologue. Maybe I oughta start over. Hello! My name is Emile.”

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Happy new years to you all!

I'll be putting out a small update in short order for Gardevoiran, Lazo, and anyone else that gets a post up in the next day or so.

My Villain Academia - Our World Not Theirs!

Happy new years to you all!

My Villain Academia - Our World Not Theirs!

Just when Ludmilla felt settled, ready to tackle whatever came her way in the course of the next few minutes, she heard -to her great surprise- her motherland's tongue. Accented or not, it came from the girl she'd just casually badmouthed to her supervisor, which meant that she understood every word. ”Дерьмо!” she ejected beneath her breath, before she could stop herself. The meaning of Chika's words came across loud and clear, indicating in a matter-of-fact manner how presumptuous Ludmilla had been. Oddly, the smaller woman didn't seem to be mad, which rendered any defensiveness on Ludmilla's part unnecessary. She hadn't intended to be confrontational, after all—just a little mean-spirited, in a private fashion. ”Uh...my mistake. I did not know you could speak Russian. It's...uh, good to meet someone I can...talk to?” Inside, Ludmilla broiled with anger that she'd thrust herself into such an awkward, embarrassing situation. Thank God nobody else other than Whitesnake could tell, so an impassive expression could save some face. Speaking of the man, she cast her mentor a glance and found him rolling his eyes in suppressed amusement, which put Ludmilla dangerously close to turning red. She reached down and replaced her facemask to hide her embarrassment, looking up at the ceiling.

A moment later, she was grateful for the distraction of Kane, who approached her at a rapid pace. Doing her best to not flinch at the huge mutant stomping so close, she watched with narrow eyes as he snarled words in Japanese and gesticulated to the two of them. For a few seconds she felt both confused and perturbed by the bond between Kane and herself implied by his pointing, but the action of slamming a fist into a palm held universal significance. Either he wanted to fight her, or he wanted her to fight with him, and one of those options did not bear consideration. Regardless, the last few sounds he uttered after shaking the whole bar with his palm-pound seemed to be questioning, and considering the ramifications of aggravating a giant brute such as he, Ludmilla felt it best to agree. ”Yeah, sure,” she guessed, punctuating what to him would be meaningless with a nod of affirmation.

He turned his attention to Chika, so Ludmilla turned hers elsewhere. A couple moments passed before a ringing sound filled the bar. Shade Walker's sudden reach for his phone and its subsequent examination made her think it was already go-time. A peek at Whitesnake for confirmation resulted in a stiff nod. ”Looks like it's time for you to begin. Stay sharp, stay mobile, and support your teammates. Keep surprise attacks off their backs, and incapacitate any especially dangerous enemy. Lastly, don't underestimate the opposite. Ready, Akane?”

Though nobody could see it beneath her mask, Ludmilla smiled. ”Hai, sensei.”

Chika rushed off, probably to make preparations, but Ludmilla and several others were already good to go. She jogged a little closer to where the others gathered around Shade Walker, and awaited orders with arms crossed. Away from the group, the man with the television head produced a steady stream of speech without any emotional inflection whatsoever, bidding Ludmilla look his way for a few seconds. What a cool, creepy guy. He'd be perfect as the mysterious, dangerous number two for some action flick's big, bad villain. Or number three, maybe? Like that one Transformer, Soundwave. Weird, but badass in his own way. Well, either that or some boring communications lackey. Time would tell. For now, she needed to concentrate on the mission. Sticking with Kane would be best given his signaling earlier, and even though she couldn't understand his speech, it was enthusiastic enough to tell her he was raring to get some action.

My Villain Academia - Our World Not Theirs!

Bolstered by the impassive dignity that only powerful old men could boast, Whitesnake's face remained politely positive while Shade Walker ranted. With no miscommunication on his part, the recruiter knew that the only remaining difficulties found root in the nebulous villain's own pride and distrust, the latter of which Whitesnake knew would be proved unfounded in this case when his protege demonstrated her worth in the upcoming heist. He watched her go, meeting the eye of each ne'er-do-well present as if to ask them whether they had any problems with her. After a couple of moment she'd disappeared onto the ladies' room, leaving behind her mentor, an impression, and a Shade Walker with still more to say. ”Sir, I stand by my earlier statement. You'll find her courage and ability more than satisfactory.” He tilted his head just a touch to signal bemusement at his second statement. ”Ludmilla knows of East, but only recently. She grew up far away, hence the language barrier.”

Through his signature slitted green eyes, Whitesnake gauged the group's general reaction to his charge following her departure. Ryuuji, the dark teleporter, indicated not a problem but a willingness to help the new recruit with language. The brutal bruiser Kane appeared more enthusiastic about Ludmilla joining the group than Shade Walker, which Whitesnake found to be an interesting inversion. In the lull, Panopticon chose to make his appearance—eerie, inhuman, and businesslike as ever, he provoked some degree of discomfort from everyone in the room. He gave no indication that Ludmilla had come and gone at all, though Whitesnake would not have expected one. Also during this interlude, one of the doors in the back of the bar had opened to disgorge a disheveled scientist, who set about making herself a meager meal. Only toward the end of this task did she seem to take note of the newcomer, and Chika made a proposal as well. ”I had not imagined a team of soon-to-be bank robbers would be either so helpful or so linguistic.” Despite his standoffish tone, Whitesnake did not consider the offers a slight against himself as Ludmilla's mentor, and he decided that a little help could not go wrong. ”She reads and writes Russian,” he answered Chika's question.

A moment later, the bathroom door popped open and Ludmilla appeared. She still held her briefcase in hand, but this time it evidently contained her street clothes, because now the young woman wore a padded black-and-gray tactical suit, somewhat tight-fitting but overall highly practical. Her eyepatch had not been changed, but a rigid mask had appeared that covered her entire lower face, meshing well with the bottom of the patch. Altogether, she could be mistaken for a riot cop at first glance, but her ensemble gave her a hint of menace. After a few seconds of looking around, Ludmilla seemed to decide that the group wouldn't be heading out right this moment, so she reached up and pulled down the facemask to hang around her neck. With that done her focus lay on the two people she'd missed before: Panopticon and Chika. For the former she allotted only a wary glance, but the woman received a more thorough look. Clear lack of attention to personal care, glasses, hyper-pale skin, small size, zero musculature...everything about her screamed 'turbo-nerd.' Yet if she was here, she was a force to be reckoned with in some respect. Ludmilla's eye conveyed mixed feelings, and when she turned away to head back toward Whitesnake, she said aloud to him in Russian, ”If this tiny NEET girl is half as smart as she looks, she should know that red hair only looks good natural.” Tossing her briefcase on the floor, she seated herself at the bar, leaning on one elbow. Here, she could see pretty much everything going on inside, but the greater concern was the job that lay just ahead. This would be her moment; the only chance she'd get to show these people she could be a pro villain.

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

Azura
Level 1
Day 3
Location: 26th Floor of Tetris Castle, the Reception Hall
Experience: |||||||||| (0/10)

Even when made heavy by boots, the footfalls of the foreign princess walking the Tetris Castle's halls seldom made a sound. Over the last few days a great many new faces had arrived at this hub world, united by the common threat posed by the Mugen Virus, and among their ranks were featured unforgettable faces, unignorable attitudes, and attention-grabbing appearances. With all of the commotion caused by so many arrivals, few could devote their time to unimportant tasks, but all the same there came scattered reports of a woman nobody seemed able to commit to memory. They knew that bore breathtaking aquamarine hair, voluminous, long, and in splendid condition. If spotted at the training grounds, she was said to carry an ornamental spear as beauteous as herself. Yet this woman always seemed to slip away, first from the body and then from the mind, remembered only sparingly and in retrospect.

For her part, Azura did nothing to attract attention. This place was, after all, another castle. She knew the nature of royalty, their subjects, and how they behaved in response to a foreign princess whose silence and dignity came off as coldness and aloofness, making them think she thought she was their superior. A castle was a cold and uncaring domicile, a place of status rather than compassion. If one wasn't its master or the master's progeny, one could be expected to be treated like dirt, like a tool, like a pretty trinket brought out for display on special occasions, or in a certain someone's case, all three. When in Nohr, Azura found relief from the lonesomeness of her secluded chambers and the pointed looks of the kingdom's nobles in the markets and outdoors, where either commoners or nature were happy to receive her. There, she found that her songs sounded far better than in her recitals. Today, her first mission as a 'hero' would begin, and she was to be received by someone of the name of 'Vault Boy'. When she accepted the invitation of a strange turtle to come here, she hadn't imagined that she would be giving up the hospitality of the kingdom of Hoshido for a frontline war against some terrible menace, but Azura was determined to do some good in the world. It was time to demonstrate that she was neither a trinket nor a wallflower, but a heroine. As she approached the place of the meeting, therefore, she brought company: the Blessed Lance bestowed upon her by gracious Queen Mikoto of Hoshido, a memoir of the short but wonderful time she hadn't felt quite so alone.

The Reception Hall certainly lived up to the grandiosity Azura had come to respect from castles' public chambers. When she entered, her hand as gentle on the door as could be, there appeared to be nobody but servants and Vault Boy himself amid the fixings for a gratuitous feast. I'm the first, then. Since carrying a lance to a meal would be nothing short of preposterous, and bringing it here in the first place seemed a more brainless decision by the second, she decided to give a soldier's bow to her host. With a flourish of her weapon she executed the respectful gesture, which ended with Azura embedding the weapon's point in the tile floor just to the right of the door. I can play it off as a ceremonial act resulting from a somewhat militant background—it wouldn't be a lie. With that out of the way she returned to a far more unassuming posture, hands clasped behind her back and head bowed. ”Good day, sir. I am Azura, of the kingdom...of Hoshido, here in response to your summons.” Unfailing in her etiquette, she remained motionless as she stood, waiting for instruction and for the arrival of others before taking any further action. A gracious guest assumed nothing, after all.

Others arrived before long, at which point their diminutive host greeted them and bid them eat. His other utter words caught Azura's attention, making her wonder for a moment before she concluded with some certainty that he'd been joking. He didn't end up telling the group much other than that the proceedings would properly begin in five minutes. At Vault Boy's behest, she went ahead and approached the table. Barely had she seated herself before a Lemming appeared, offering her a selection of drinks. Avoiding the creature's gaze, she whispered, ”...Water, please.” Once he left, Azura gingerly reached out and grasped a roll from a nearby serving platter, which she began to nibble at. Even if provoked, she would do nothing to break her composure, though in fact she hadn't eaten since she arrived her yesterday. Either way, her focus lay first and foremost on the task that would soon be at hand, wrapping her head around her current situation and preparing herself.