Lugubrious

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Tension continued to mount, and the Margrave's inscrutably handsome features bore an expression ever grimmer. As he waited for some sort of plan of action, the ego-rending words of Chatterbox continued to fly. Could this be my nemesis? the daring vagabond pondered to distract himself. A villain who, having acknowledged the vast gulf of power and skill between himself and the legendary Margrave, seeks to whittle down my courage through sheer loquaciousness? Who is this man!? He tried to keep alert, but it proved difficult as the feeling of helplessness mounted. I cannot sit here sputtering any longer. Even if it be foolhardy, I have to act! To extinguish this derision and demonstrate my vaunted prowess! He grit his teeth and rocked forward off the wall, ready to stand and do something.

Then a pair of roars shook the premises, one not long after the other. Surprised and, for a brief moment, possessed of clarity of thought, the Margrave twisted around and peeked his head up to peer into the warehouse through the window he and the Wards' leader hid beneath. His eyes locked on to the titanic frame of a great reptile, its fangs large as knives and its scales tougher than crocodile hide. Though far bigger than the turkey-sized velociraptor, it didn't stand quite as high as the awesome Tyrannosaur, though that wasn't to denigrate its fearsomeness. A primeval carnotaur...? the Margrave found himself wondering as it rampaged into the warehouse interior, attacking the Community evildoers with wild abandon and -more importantly for him- seizing their attention. Alongside it was a far more otherwordly beast, a six-limbed monster that could only conceivably be attributed to Tulpa. Though he'd borne a grimace only seconds ago, the Margrave found himself grinning. ”The enemy is in disarray. 'Twould seem they're not quite living up to the hype. Come to think of it, if they really were that strong, would they need to rely on intimidation tactics? I feel as though a great burden has been lifted off my shoulders.” He spoke quickly, aware of how inappropriate a dramatic monologue might be at the current moment. The impetus to act remained with him, after all, and he was loathe to waste such a perfect opportunity. From the shouting he heard earlier, he supposed that the dinosaur was in fact Tiger Lily, but even still he felt it ill-advised to risk jumping in alongside his new, carnivorous ally, or Tulpa's nightmarish projection. No matter—from a distance, the Margrave was an even greater threat.

When the call went out and Messiah began to move, the Margrave advanced just after her. From his heavily-laden coat he produced the toy gun he brandished in the mission prior, which promptly reverted to a MAC-10 in his hands. Rubber bullets or not, it would do some damage, particularly to enemies focused on a monster from the distant past. Perhaps I've been overthinking things. Bullets, applied tactically, solve a miraculous amount of problems. He stopped just after following Messiah through the doorway, and while she went ahead he trained his submachine gun on the group of baddies from behind cover. Lillian will shrug these off, he reminded himself as his index finger slid onto the trigger. ”Laying Waste: Opportune Burst!” he muttered through his smile before squeezing the trigger, sending a spray of bullets in the direction of the foe.

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

Slayer
Level 5 || Day 3 – Morning || On the Doom Train
@Zarkun @Majoras End @Tenma Tendo @ONL
Experience: |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (16/50)
Word count: 596

Claws of keratin met claws of flame, sending up sparks as the two sets of weapons slid off one another rather than clanging together. The tremendous momentum of both combatants carried through to strike the other's chest, and the next instant the force slid the two apart. Thanks to the odd impact, their slashing blows managed to convey pushing power rather than cutting power, creating the distance between them. Slayer glanced down at his chest, then at his lupine opponent. Some satisfaction tickled him as he noticed that Warwick got the worse deal out of their exchange by a long shot, but the damage to his suit jacket and tie disgruntled him to such a degree that any joy was buried. Complaining could come later, however; for now, Slayer had a fight to win. Through gritted teeth, he told the werewolf, ”I admit I respect your ferocity, but I've gotten a bead on your one-track mind. Steady yourself; this may get rough.” He clenched his fist and began to move.

The next second, the PA sounded off once again, interrupting the four-way fight. Its first words brought an official end to the warm-up battle. With a wry smile, Slayer relaxed his stance, slipping his hands into his pockets. ”Color me surprised that you lot would think so little of us,” he told Warwick, who turned his back and limped away in a huff. One by one the other fighters departed, all except the Death Knight, whose approach bespoke of a bonus of conversation. ”Should I have the time, I'd be happy to lend a hand,” he said in response to the warrior's request. His gaze grew more interested as his acquaintance's speech shifted to strategy. An intangible enemy, eh? ”Gracious of you t'let me know. I'll keep that in mind.” With a slight bow of his head, he bid the Death Knight farewell. It wasn't long at all before the train, already slowing down, came to a halt. The nearby doors slid open, and Slayer strode up to the car's edge.

Before him lay a grim vista; twisted black trees, spectral blue flame, a wrought-iron gate, and a house that looked physically warped all screamed 'haunted'. Even the grass, a touch off-color, gave off an eerie vibe. Add to that a miasma of dark mist that made whatever lay on its other side wobble back and forth like jello and the scene could scarcely be more surreal. It made Slayer smile. ”Wouldja look at that!” He allowed the skeletons to lead him out at the head of his group, gesturing to the haunted mansion as he turned part-way around. ”Classic stuff. Perfect blend of barren and spooky, not too heavy on the décor, and the waverin' effect given by the mist makes it seem all dream-like. Jack-O'd have a fit, I'm sure.” He paused in his assessment as the Headless Horseman approached to talk about schedules—both his and theirs. As the Horseman spoke, Slayer adjusted what remained of his tie and dusted his jacket off. ”Six hours? Goodness, I hope it doesn't take that long.” By the time he finished, the Horseman was already gone, and with an ominous whistle the fabled Doom Train was rolling once more.

Slayer stroked his goatee, considering the path that lay before him. ”Hmm...well, we have nothin' if not time.” Holding his labels, he performed an about-face to address the group. ”Are you all well? I failed to pay as much attention to your fights as I should've. If everyone's in good shape, we can proceed with our little hunt.”

My Villain Academia - Our World Not Theirs!

From her slightly-contorted, crouched position beside Kane, Ludmilla grinned. Though her mask disguised her devilish smile, the narrowing of her eyes in glee, and the flickering of her abnormal left, gave it away. After all, her field of hyper-viscous air seemed to stop the bullets and petals in their tracks. Some got around the edges or over the top, of course, but none hit her or her allies, which constituted a success in her book. Another cause for celebration was the arrival of another ally in the form of Mana, who demonstrated a new angle of attack that could circumvent Ludmilla's barrier to get at the pro hero. To be facing off against a big name so soon send shivers of anticipation down the Russian's back, though she knew better than to try something foolhardy for the sake of a little satisfaction.

She refocused her attention on another figure, commanding and burly with a jawline that belonged on a bulldozer, now approaching her flash zone at ramming speed. Ludmilla smirked. He looks like a tough customer, but he ain't getting through the front door. Bigger you are, the more surface area for the air to push against. It'd be like trying to waltz through a four-foot tank of peanut butter...no, molasses!

Then the pro pushed right through it, making Ludmilla's jaw drop. ”What the hell!?” After a brief moment of stunned silence she stumbled backward, falling onto her side as she turned to dodge. As much as she fancied her combat ability, it did not strike her as worthwhile to see if she could avoid taking a hit from this meathead. Panicked, she scrambled to get up, but as luck would have it the brute went for Kane itself. Probably doesn't even see me as a threat, she realized as she regained her feet in one fluid motion, managing to make her pratfall look sort of like an evasive roll. Which is great since if he can nullify my quirk, I'm really not. 'Course, the field had to be thin to be wide enough to block all the projectiles... Even if a thicker field just for him might work, it wasn't worth the risk when a much stockier ally was rearing for a slobberknocker. Her attention would be better served elsewhere.

Such an opportunity presented itself when, after turning to see if Mana's vine attack succeeded, Ludmilla instead saw a little girl in archaic armor cut the plants up with a couple of katanas. Huh. I'm more surprised she has the upper body strength for that. Or is it that plant bitch's vines are weak?Wha's the obsession with those objectively crappy swords, anyway? One taunt and one introduction later -she presumed-, it looked like the sidekick was spoiling for a fight. Ludmilla's eyes slid-half shut in nonchalance as she skirted around Kane's punchout to stand on the same side as Mana. She couldn't understand what Swift Blade said, of course, but judging by her tone the kid was talking pretty big for someone standing on the other side of a stasis field. Leaning forward, Ludmilla beckoned with both hands as she called, ”Вы хотите, да? Приезжают сюда и получить нас тогда, маленькая сука!”

The Crucible - Winner Take All

The Lady in White

Location: Kno One
@Lazo

Splinters flew as the two tables slammed together with a thunderous crack, but no bifurcated body went flying along with them. With Pithy escaped from the vice, the furniture seemed to lose all will to continue, and both slumped down into a shared pile of debris with the utensils, shattered glassware, and fractures plates that adorned them seconds before. Though whatever animated them appeared to have departed, it lost no interest in Pithy, even as her magicked frost surged over the restaurant's interior. Paintings and other items floated off their hooks and wall-shelves, pausing just long enough to turn sideways and gather speed before hurtling themselves as well. One by one they met with Pithy's evasion or defense. While the frozen pipes, still half-phased through the floor, shook as though trying to free themselves from winter's clutches, no more rose from the ground to bind Pithy as she neared the unmarked door.

When she reached for the knob, the brass handle bent out of the way before lashing out in a curt slap at the sorceress's hand. The nasty sound of rent metal burst through the hallway from the direction of the kitchen as a fan ripped itself loose from the ceiling. Blades spinning with wild abandon, it whirred in Pithy's direction.

Despite the commotion, the lack of active machinery left the scene rather quiet. Over the groan of leftover wind the Lady in White could hear a haggard shout from inside the room. “Can't get in that way, window in kitchen! Don't relax for one instant Pithy, Kno One is this entire building!”

As the fan bore down on Pithy, a laugh echoed from the foundation to the roof, seeping through every wall. “Heheh. Looks like he's banking on you not killing him, if you get out of here. Maybe his warning has helped you realize, but you've walked into a deathtrap.” At that moment, the connection became easy to make. The psychological pressure, the portentous feeling of wrongness that made every fiber of one's being ache for escape...though far more powerful, it resembled the sensation one felt when dipping one's hand in a lake filled with piranhas, or of placing one's head in the wrenched-open maw of a crocodile. It was the doom of being in the belly of the beast.

Sunspot

Location: the Park
@FloodTalon

Laughter. Pieter's face wasted no time in beginning to twist in umbrage. Ever since that fateful day in his childhood he'd heard it, and never had it failed to piss him off. This jackass just didn't seem able to understand the situation he was in, or perhaps he was just that committed to ruining Pieter's day. “You'll get the idea when your muscle peels off your bones,” he muttered, contempt dripping through his voice. Over the cacophonous swish of leaves and Jin's own derisive laughter, though, the noseless man doubted his opponent could hear it. His leaves were in position to pierce Jin's hide, delivering a fatal dose of the poison straight to the center of his circulatory system. From there, all Pieter would need to do would be to wait for the brat to fall to pieces--!

He jolted in surprise, an involuntary cry escaping him, as Jin lunged forward. Attuned to their master's will, the leaf-lances zeroed in on the assassin's position to hurl themselves into his body, but not a single one hit its mark. They sprouted from the ground in his wake, like the shoots of a young forest, as he barreled ahead. A brutal light gleamed from his swords, leaving the steel behind to fly through open air and shear through Pieter's tree as thought it had already been made into paper. The tree's upper half shook, forcing the College man to strengthen his grip and grit his teeth. Every instinct on him cried out as the tree began to topple, everything happening so fast that Pieter couldn't even breathlessly vocalize his shock. The tree fell backward, pushed by the residual force Jin's blade beams left behind, and in another second its rider would be crushed beneath it. Adrenaline pumped through Pieter, however, as he realized that his doom drew near, and he managed to find his voice. “Autumn!”

Like a swarm of hornets converging on a target, the leaves responded in an instant. They shot toward him, plastering themselves around the man as he fell and pulling him free of the hefty trunk that threatened to pulverize him. Buoying him up with the considerable combined mass of its leaves, Weird Autumn lofted Pieter skyward. As it ascended, its shapeless shoal coalesced into the form of an enormous bird, sans legs but up two additional pairs of wings. As though the assumed body gained a life of its own, Weird Autumn beat those half-dozen wings in rhythm as it began to circle around, Pieter atop its back. Still on edge, and not totally confident in his Stand's ability to keep him out of harm's way, he peered over the edge of its back at the assassin below. The sight of Jin washed away his fear and replaced it with smoldering anger—enough to make it clear that the time for jibes and games had departed. Pieter mimed a slash with his fingers at Jin, and Weird Autumn reeled back before letting fly a volley of leaf-feathers.

Innumerable as stars in the sky, the pinions bombarded Jin's position. Up above, the extraordinary bird beat its wings to keep up the pressure, sending salvo after salvo, but remaining almost stationary as it did. Pieter's glare could be seen even from the ground as he poked his head out, too eager to see the annoying assassin ripped apart.

My Villain Academia - Our World Not Theirs!

I've been sick for the past week so I haven't been posting however is that really all we're going to get right now for this round of posts?

@vancexentan

Well, everyone except Panopticon and Kane has been posted as since your last combat update, and there isn't too much Kane could do anyway so Saarebas' silence is understandable. You didn't say we could control the enemies or the results of our actions ourselves, so we don't have too many options for more posting.

Project Crossover [Video Game Crossover RP]

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

One after another, the other attendees voiced their questions to Vault Boy. They posed him inquiries about Markarth -the beleaguered city to which they would be deployed in the near future-, about lethality, and a handful of other topics, but none ended up concerning Azura more than her own. To her diminutive host's reply she gave a grateful nod of acknowledgment, saying, “49th floor, understood. I will pay them a visit before we depart.”. His usage of the word 'suit', evocative of heavy protective wear, did not thrill her, but she could ill afford to turn down necessary gear that appeared to be free of charge. A gracious guest did not refuse a gift, and even if she happened to dislike the style of clothing offered, the thought of braving an alpine landscape in dancer's garb struck her as singularly idiotic.

By the time that the other questions were dealt with in the same sequential manner as asked, the meeting had grown the air of being over with. Preparing to leave, Azura stood, only to be momentary distracted by another embarrassing exchange from the man on the other side of the enchanted image. How ghastly for that poor woman. I couldn't imagine working with such a flippant combination of immaturity and ego. She remained standing behind her chair as Vault Boy addressed everyone once again, this time with a definite note of finality. As luck would have it, a pertinent tidbit of information came in that package: her solution to Skyrim's cold climate could be found in the same area of the castle as the departure point for the mission. Furthermore, all those involved were to receive a vaccine. Azura sported some familiarity with the word, having heard it in medicinal circles in reference to an altered version of a pathogen that would grant someone injected with it heightened resistance to that pathogen, but Vault Boy mentioned it so casually that she suspected it to be more advanced than the medicines of her world. After all, in her realm remedies for disease and injury often came in the form of magic, and words like 'vaccine' seldom left theoretical circles. Nevertheless, she imagined that this would be necessary. If this Mugen virus posed as much of a threat as she'd been led to believe, Azura needed an immunization to stand half a chance.

-=-=-

“Well, miss? What do you think?”

Azura looked herself over, each movement making her aware of the weight of the cloth. The dress whipped up by the inventors of Floor 49 could just as easily have been a robe or coat, as it combined elements from all three. Simply but effective, with layers engineered to withstand the bite of wind and to deny the entry of snow, it fit very well over her ordinary clothes. Even in the details she could have not asked for better; it worked perfectly with her veil, leaving only her upper face exposed, and the hood sported a slit in the back for her long hair to fall through so as to not bunch up inside. Despite herself, Azura smiled. “It is comfortable. And very warm.” The inventor looked pleased to hear it. Her eagerness almost made the princess bashful. “But isn't it a bit...stark?”

She gestured at the cloth, which appeared white as snow itself. It made her stand out, which in turn made her more uncomfortable than the average person would realize. The inventor, however, shook her head. “The outermost layer is reversible. Inside, it's a light purplish-gray. Perfect for blending into rock, or the dark. While right now it's amazing for disappearing into a snowscape!” She put her hands on her hips, laughing. “I hope I didn't presume too much, but you struck me as someone who doesn't like being the center of attention.

Azura replied with a laugh of her own, albeit a nervous one. Is it that obvious? Closing her eyes, she bowed her head. “Thank you. I know you said that payment isn't required earlier, but for such a nice and warm dress, custom-made so quickly...if there's anything I can do to help you, please don't hesitate to call on me.”

Further words, however, would have to wait. While not egregious, the delay had placed her well behind the rest in terms of mobilization. With as much speed as she could muster without breaking her composure, Azura hastened to the 49th Floor's transport room. There, she hefted her Blessed Lance and strode through the portal to the land of Skyrim, her vaccination performed while she had been waiting.

She arrived just in time to her the President stop speaking. For a brief moment her face gave uncharacteristically full voice to her disbelief, though she reverted to an impartial expression the next instant. Him!? Even now his words dripped with self-absorption and cavalier offhandedness. How are we supposed to get anything done with this buffoon at the helm? She took a deep breath. No matter—she'd suffered through far worse. As much as the thought of singing for him offended her, Azura had a duty to fulfill here. She rested the butt of her lance on the stone, and in a voice colder than the surrounding air, replied, “As you wish, Boss.”

The Crucible - Winner Take All

@Lugubrious
I'm assuming because of the nature of "Kno One". Well dang.

Do I need to change what I had in my post to accommodate or can we assume that the crack is there already and Bonesword just was like "hey Charlie made that"?

@Gardevoiran

You should change your post to have the attack be ineffective.

Either way, it seems like I should have Mountain Dew react to Bonesword's appearance next time I write.

@Lazo

That seems appropriate.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

Posted. If I need to change anything let me know. I was unsure of how exactly to handle the situation I'd been given so I went out on a limb.

Hah. Tree pun.

@Gardevoiran

As a matter of fact, 'Moscow Caliber' is immune to ordinary damage at the moment. If you're curious as to why, we can talk in PMs.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

<Snipped quote by Lugubrious>

Sorry, holidays have been pretty busy for me and my laptop is on the fritz. Will try for something in the next three days.

@floodtalon

I'd really hate to have to cut our player count even further, Flood. I'm giving you an exception to the ban rule here because I seriously value your continued participation in this RP, and on the chance that the holidays are still keeping you busy, and because you were courteous to respond and apologize, but if you continue to add to your month plus of not participating I'll eventually have to make your absence official.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

The Fungal Knight

Location: Government Hub
@Gardevoiran

As the skeleton waved, the mummy shrugged. “Huh. Guess 'e didn't want nothin', after all. Coulda sworn 'e was anglin' for some kinda 'elp.” The next moment, a rush of enchanted wind blasted forth from his ring, enveloping him completely. Beside him, the other strangers' rings rendered them similarly surrounded. As one the speed and noise of the little storms intensified, until in a flash of light all three vanished without a trace.

When Bonesword queried his phylactery, no reply whatsoever came through to him. Not even an acknowledgment of his request made itself known. All that remained to him in terms of guidance was the drone floating nearby, its angle pointing him in the direction of a restaurant a couple blocks down the road. Judging by Oren's prerecorded message, delivered to Bonesword just minutes prior, his next opponent lay thataways.

Inari

Location: What Lies Beneath – Toward the Underground City
@Kapuchu

Emile grinned again. “You got it.” On went the crested helmet, the lenses in its visor flickering dully with magic, and the owlman crossed his arms. He also crossed a leg, but other than that made no more delays before he started speaking. “I wanted to talk to you, and to get some information. I picked you because you seemed reasonably sane, and interesting. I'm glad to tell you more, but it's a lengthy explanation so please hold any remarks until the end.”

Uncrossing his arms, he clasped his hands in his lap. “My friends and I arm from a world called Yggdrasil. From what we've gathered through observation over the course of the last day or so, pretty much all the competitors brought here are from different worlds, which struck me as very interesting. I don't know anything about your world, so forgive me if anything I say seems trivial or obvious, but I'll tell you about this place. This planet is called Earth, and this continent called Europe. To go further, I have to get something out of the way first.”

“You see, when I say we're from Yggdrasil, that's not the whole story. I'm a little different.” He leaned forward just a touch, his hands sliding out to rest on his knees as he straightened them out. From behind his back came a faint scraping sound like metal on stone. “I came here from Yggdrasil, but that's not my origin. I'm from this world.” Emile leaned back. “Or a world a lot like this, at least. Everything is the same except one thing: this city, the City of Echoes. In my world, a city called Rome occupies this area. The critical point I'm making is this: the world of Yggdrasil isn't real. I don't know if you know what video games or movies are, but suffice to say they're technological forms of entertainment, and Yggdrasil is a video game that I played with my friends. This isn't my real body, but the avatar I used in that game. Everyone else in Deadbeat Sky -that crow and its citadel- is a non-player character in that world. Weird, huh?”

“But here's the thing. I noticed a few things while watching you fight. That vial of healing liquid you use is just like something called an Estus Flask from a game called Dark Souls. And the globe you pocketed is from Treasure Planet, a movie made by a company called Disney. I wouldn't say you should...ah, think about it too much, but it's still very strange to me. And I bet it sounds insane to you. So, now that's over with, I was wondering if you could tell me anything about your world, or anything you've learned about the nature of this tournament.” His speech concluded, Emile slipped his hands into his pockets and crossed his legs again.