Lugubrious

Overlord: Momento Mori

@Lugubrious Collab isn't something I've really done before, but I would be certainly willing to try. About time I got some practice in anyway. Course if you would rather not try with someone so inexperienced I'd understand.

@IceHeart

Whoops, you posted while I wad getting my last out. Of course I'd be happy to work with you, and to help in any way that I can.

Overlord: Momento Mori

Nope, Graft has purchased clothes/armor from Aurora and had Papillary modify them.

World of Light

@ProPro Cuphead is accepted!

Overlord: Momento Mori

Act II. And I should have excluded Charme as well, since Graft knows she'd refuse.

Overlord: Momento Mori

This time on his visit to the Factory Rodias encountered not even the teeniest sliver of resistance from its security. Though not intelligent the Guards and the wall-nodules could evidently recognize him on sight, and since the last Sable Lord knew the way Graft insisted that he not stand on ceremony and let himself be taken on a slow escort by his lackies. Their meeting commenced in one of the many machine rooms, where Graft was currently in the middle of overseeing his mooks overhauling the production line. The fact that its new product involved amberlyte said a good deal about Graft's findings already.

As was his custom, the Director opened his mouth to begin speaking straightaway, but the Supreme One's silver tongue got the better of him. He opened first, and with an apology no less, which left Graft looking mildly put out for two different reasons. “You have no cause to apologize to the likes of me,” he told him. “Rather, I am pleased that you shared with me this wisdom. Resurrection via wealth is a fascinating concept, and I daresay none live who're better suited than I to look into it.”

A Specialist was standing by, too wise to interrupt a conference between two such powerful beings. Given the informality of the meeting, however, and a couple other factors, Graft went ahead and relayed a few instructions before getting back to the matter at hand. Rodias wanted to know more about what he had in mind for the human settlement landed so close to the Chateau by the winds of fate.

“It's quite simple,” he said, planting his cane before him and placing both hands atop it. “In order to benefit from this world's resources, we need to invest in their acquisition. To do that we can either waste our own manpower and effort on such grunt work, or we can get this world's people to do it for us. They, like most organisms, respond to incentives. Some might suggest using the stick as an incentive. Coercing others with force can work, but people with crushed spirits are lifeless, ineffective, and prone to revolt. The human spirit can be caged, but only for so long before it chooses death -even in futile rebellion- over further suffering. So I suggest the carrot. We are fabulously wealthy by this world's standards, but not in a practical sense. So we'll use what resources we have to barter and trade, and to pay wages, ensuring that any humans who work for us won't just be willing to: they'll want to.”

Graft kicked up his cane with a shoe and flipped it over his shoulders, where he could grasp one end with each hand. “Alas, I have kept my word and done no snooping, so I don't know the full extent of the Chateau's assets. But once we come up with whatever we can stand to bargain away, I can establish the Mercantile Commission in the nearest city. No infiltration, no minions pretending and learning to be human; I'll hire men and women of sense and wit, then direct them from the shadows. They'll be the ones to sell our wares, move our goods, and amass our coin.” He spread his arms wide in exultation, excited, and his voice rose. “The Commission will swell, with a branch in every city, trade routes connecting them all! Bandersnatch will be rich, and its influence vast as it is subtle! Waystations across the country, a finger in every pie. Forget about armies, and swords and magic.” A gold piece appeared in his hand. Holding it between his index finger and thumb, he held it up to the light to watch it shine. “We can rule the world with coin!”

A moment passed before the Director chuckled. He put the gold piece away. “Neh heh heh. Forgive me; I must have gotten carried away. And you haven't even yet publicly announced your true ambitions, either. Still, one can never aim too high, eh?” Another chuckle escaped him before he switched gears. “As for amberlyte, I am pleased enough. It's pretty in a bauble sort of way, a low-tier commodity. Not suitable for defense or construction. It has a few quirks, however. I tested its affinity for magic, since as you know crystals are often good foci for sorcery. However, amberlyte is the exact opposite. It is magic-abhorrent.” He grabbed a refined chunk from the nearby conveyer belt. “Not repellent, mind you, but abhorrent. It's also mildly toxic, with a more pronounced effect on subjects with a higher magical affinity. A sort of drain.”

Graft's lenses snapped into place as he studied the amberlyte. “Reminded me of Kaldorna's report on mana fatigue. At the moment, I'm also researching rare, high-tier status effects. I could feel some sort of connection. So I poked around. If highly processed into a fine powder akin to sand, amberlyte induces an interesting status effect in magical subjects, both organic and inorganic. Their tissues become 'looser', unable to hold mana, which begins to drain away from the host. According to reports on rare bosses and zones in Yggdrasil, this is called 'Leak'. It's very difficult to combat, cited by Supreme Ones as one of their most-hated aspects of certain areas. In this new world, it should not only deprive targets of their mana to fight with, but also eventually induce crippling mana fatigue. Fascinating, no?”

With a shrug he tossed the amberlyte to a nearby specialist, who took it away. “Sadly, it's not very potent in its current state, and application is a problem. I am no alchemist, and can only achieve so much in terms of optimizing this stuff. I do know a certain top-heavy recluse who might, however, as well as someone who could nudge her into doing so.” He winked at Rodias. “If she can further refine it, with some sort of reagent perhaps, into an oil, it could be very useful indeed.”

Overlord: Momento Mori

In accordance with Tabula's request to Graft, she's going on break from her training to visit other parts of the Chateau. Papillary will be going along with her. Graft will have contacted everyone else (except Chunnitrixx) beforehand to request that they allow his 'assistants' to visit. Would any of you be up to collab their visits, provided your character would allow them entry?

World of Light

Franklin and Michael

Location: Devil's Casino
@thedman

Once on his feet, Frankling could dodge the chalks with no problem, and he made use of his opening by lighting Mangosteen up with his pistol. The bullets struck his smooth surface and left dents, chips, and cracks where they hit. “Ooh, ow!” Mangosteen rumbled, opening wide to take another shot. A multicolored orb zipped Franklin's way, but with his attention on one man, Mangosteen was completely exposed to the other. The next moment Michael's high-caliber round blasted him squarely in the eight.

“Gaaaaaaaoooooooow!” he bellowed, wheeling around in the air. Black liquid leaked from the web of cracks in his body, and his facial features floated sporadically. Still, he remained alive and aloft—a feat not many victims of Michael's rifle could boast of. Pulling himself together, he growled, “That...smarts!” and span to face the clearly-greater threat. He opened his prismatic maw, charged for a moment, then unleashed a dazzling beam of color at Michael's position. Keeping the beam going, Mangosteen swept around at random, sending the energy in wild and unpredictable paths around the arena. When he finished, however, he coughed up a large amount of black liquid. “Guh...I'm...outta gas...”

A few more attacks from his challengers later he went down, coming to a stop face-first in a pool of his own black bile.

At the Teleporter

Location: Lumbridge
@Majoras End@Archmage MC

After taking the teleporter Joker found himself in an old-fasioned town awash in fresh air and morning sun, the first light and clarity he'd been able to enjoy in who-knows-how-long. He also found a whole bunch of people waiting for him, including the police captain from earlier. Howard, who'd been keeping a watch on the teleporter, looked relieved to see Joker in one piece and practically joyful to see another batch of survivors safe and sound. “You're back! Thank goodness,” he said, but he stopped himself from approaching the new arrivals. “I'm guessing you didn't get decontaminated. Sorry to do this to you all right after you finally got out of the Dead Zone, but could you six not go anywhere or touch anything? We need to make sure you're free of any contagions before you go free.” He shrugged apologetically, but the look on his face suggested that cooperation was not optional in this regard, which he was counting on to make sense to the survivors given the infectious horror they'd just left behind.

Still, the new arrivals could sit and relax somewhat, taking in the clear air and feeling the warmth of the sunlight. They could also watch Sectonia buzzing around trying to persuade people to hail her as their queen. She encountered little mixed reactions and little in the way of success, although nobody took a particularly strong stance against her given that she was, after all, a giant bug with fancy-looking weaponry.

For Sectonia

You have acquired:
N'kuhana's Opinion
Two pairs of interconnected, arcane-inscribed horns. When healed, the healing the wearer receives is tallied as 'soul energy' and when the wearer's soul energy reaches 10% of the wearer's maximum health, the horns fire out a magic skull that seeks the nearest enemy and deals a good chunk of soul damage. The horns have to be worn like a hat to work

Organization XIII Gneidxick

Location: Devil's Casino

It wasn't long before more challengers returned, which by now didn't phase Gneidxick at all. Still, he was glad to see Courier and Geralt looking a little worse for wear, the gunslinger especially. “Heheh,” the highroller snickered. “What'd ya do, swim in it? I ain't one bit surprised.” He went for the die, to which Gneidxick replied with a sweeping 'go ahead' gesture. “If ya can, mista wino.”

Unfortunately for him, the Courier was not only to hit the die despite his drunken and drugged-up stupor, but also lucky enough to roll a three. Gneidxick watched the token on the game board move up from six to nine, just four spots away from the end, and sighed. That pretty much settled it; the game would soon be over. Geralt seemed to think something was up, to which the highroller did not respond. Whatever could have given him that impression?

Next out of their fight were Bowser and Kamek. Gneidxick ran through his mental list of remaining minions and came up less-than-enthused. “You mugs chilled off ol' Hopus Pocus, huh? And here I thought that crummy hare woulda had the bulge.” With a curt wave he offered the die for Bowser to try his luck on, and the King Koopa produced a two, placing his crew's token that many spots away from victory, as well.

However, Gneidxick kept a narrowed eye on spot number twelve. Inscribed in white on that particular green tile were the words 'START OVER', and if a token ended up there, the heroes might just end up extended their stay in the Devil's Casino. Of course, his minions had not been performing admirably, but while they would be restored for additional fights, the heroes would not. Sooner or later they would run out of steam, luck, or both.

Deep in thought, he barely noticed a small shape zipping out of the portal leading to Mr. Chimes and bonking right into his die, and when the pink cube stopped a-rolling it had a three facing the ceiling. Gneidxick stared at it, a sour look on his face, while Hat Kid climbed up atop the board to start asking him about something she found in the toy machine. He listened for a moment, thinking while he did, and at the end of the child's plea he reached a hand to rummage inside his suit jacket for something. “Sure, kid,” he said. His fingers closed on something as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and smiled. “You can...have it.”

A blur dropped from the ceiling and crashed into the center of the table. There wasn't much dust to settle, but when it did the heroes found none other than Chef Kawasaki, holding his label with as much menace as he could muster. The ceiling had opened up; from it dropped adventurer after adventurer after adventurer. There was Donovan Lee atop a flying disc, the Four Swords, Eleven, Veronica, Shulk and Fiora, Euden, Mina, Hilda with an axe, Curly Brace, Menat, Ryu, Gran, Athena, Donnel, the Houndmaster, Tressa, the Centurion, and Din wielding her keyblade. There came a few nobody in the Land of Adventure had seen before: Nero, Kai, Jill, Fox, Caesar, Death, and Ghalt. In a matter of moments a huge crowd stood on the tabletop, all facing Gneidxick with determination (and for many a little confusion) in their eyes.

Gneidxick knew to be surprised. Hands planted on the table, he stared at the assembly with wide eyes and brows raised. All around, the giant demons and skeletons watched with piqued interest; the demon lady Megaera couldn't possibly snooze any longer. One spectator in particular, clothed head-to-toe in a black robe, was shouldering through the crowd nearer to the table.

Gneidxick started to say something but the Houndmaster took a step forward and yelled up at him. “Guildmaster! For your deception and your crimes against our own, against our friends and heroes, you are under arrest!”

A couple tense seconds passed before Gneidxick shrugged. “Well, if that's how ya want it. Come!”

He threw his hands up, and from his sleeves burst two fountains of cards. From the chaos emerged a great many strange, hollow things to land around the perimeter of the table shoulder-to-shoulder, surrounding the assembled heroes. Gneidxick leered, crossing his arms and holding a suite of cards in each hand. “Alright, 'heroes'. You want to play around? Let's pla--!”

All of a sudden everything went whacky. The world became a nonsensical blur of movement and color, as if everyone was flying through the air in a circle at a hundred miles per hour. Then a second later, everything was back to normal.

Everyone was still in the casino, but something had changed. They weren't tiny anymore; each and every hero and adventurer were back to full size. Of course, the place was a mess. People lay sprawled out across the furniture and one another all over the place. The casino floor was in total disarray. Nobody seemed hurt, but all were extremely disoriented.

At the center of it all, Gneidxick lay flat on his back by the table where he'd played his game, his die-head spinning. Dazed, he took a few seconds to he reach up to stop it, although he didn't get any less dizzy. In front of him, the black-coated newcomer climbed atop the now-vacant game table. Female judging by her silhouette, the stranger held some kind of chaotic energy in her hand.

“You...” the die-headed man mumbled.

“Sorry to steal the show,” the woman crooned in a rich accent that gave her r's a slight thrill. “Ah, just kidding. I'm not sorry. And you, ay...” she shook her head, clicking her tongue. “Idiota. Pathetic, sad, sorry piece of trash.” Her angry tone then softened, but not out of sympathy. “Buuut you don't mind me saying stuff like that, huh? It's futile. Just like this ridiculous display. And you know that.”

She jumped down. Gneidxick scooted backward and got to hit feet, balling his fists. “Go sell that to someone who's buyin'. This is what I do. I'm the devil's right hand ma--!”

The woman had held up her other hand, made a grabbing motion with it, and for the second time Gneidxick got cut off, this time with a choking sound. “No, idiot,” she told him. “You are nobody. You are nothing. That other man? He is dead and gone. You are empty, and pretending won't fill you up.”

She released one hand and squeezed the other. Gneidxick gasped, fighting for breath. The woman walked forward and threw something at him while passing, which slapped against his chest before he grabbed it. He looked down at the black robe in his hands and closed his eyes for a moment. Then, without so much as a sigh, he turned to follow her toward a portal of darkness. By the time he reached it he'd donned the coat, and the next moment he and the woman disappeared.

That left a casino floor full of confused heroes, all trying to pull themselves together while wondering just what happened. It was at that time that a pair of doors burst open and a pair of cheery-looking cups waltzed right in. “Aaaand here we are, Muggy!” the red one was telling the blue. “Just remember not to deal with the devil and we can have just as much fun as we did back whaaaaaaaat?” Cuphead looked around in bewilderment at the vast assortment of strange people scattered around the floor. He and Mugman glanced this way and that, just trying to make sense of it all. “Man, things've sure taken a turn around here!” he exclaimed.

Epithet Erased: Use Your Words

Thinking of going for a movie or music star route for my character, but I dunno how she would find her epithet. Maybe from a sci-fi movie?

@Majoras End

Another movie-related character, eh? Maybe from some kind of traumatic event in her past. In desperate situations inscribed can unknowningly use an epithet they don't know yet, and potentially have an epiphany in so doing.

If you're planning to do a female character as well, we'll have quite the abundance. No males (yet, since I'll be making a sheet for Heath, too) and no criminal or worker elements so far.

Epithet Erased: Use Your Words

@Lugubrious Tab stop is relative to her, yes. And in the IC I'll be writing in the third person, I just like doing fun things on sheets.

@Bluetommy

Alrighty then, in that case the sheet is accepted.

Sorry that I didn't actually say it, @Gentlemanvaultboy, but yours is too.

Epithet Erased: Use Your Words

I mean, I do want to play. I know I flip-flopped on it, but my mind's made up, and I'll stick with it!

@TruthHurts22

All I can say then is 'we'll see'.

Character sheet creation speed record 2 years in a row

Walking Text Processor

Aurora De Valera
"I could be writing my book right now."

I'm like... short and stuff. I haven't measured myself since I was like ten, so don't bother asking how tall specifically, or how heavy. I think that's supposed to be rude or something so don't do that. My hair is pitch black, and gathers in these ugly oily clumps that I hate but it's too annoying to wrestle with. My eye is hazel or something I dunno who cares about eye color don't talk about my eyes, just don't do it. I wear a big comfy poncho overtop of black clothes that I wear because they don't stain easily not because I'm some hot topic goth ick.

Age: 17 and like... three quarters.

Background: Well like... it's a long story but I can tell it if I haaaave to. Uggggh. Aurora De Valera is my name and before you ask yes I am Hispanic, no that does not mean I speak Spanish. I was adopted. My original family was super lame so I was raised by my uncle on my mother's side. He did his best I guess, but my grandfather was the best guy... ever. He was a published author and stuff, not bragging or anything (Is totally bragging). He taught me that writing is like the most fun you can have, so I do that a lot now it's pretty cool.

Oh, the bandages... right. I lost my eye to like some super bogus illness a few years ago. No those aren't scratch scars shut up you're annoying me.

My epithet clipboard awakened when I started writing about my dog, and realized that I remembered exactly what he looked like at that specific moment. It freaked me out so much I crossed his name out like an idiot, and he like, poofed into the air like an air poofy thing. I cried so hard, but eventually I started feeling super tired and stuff, so I passed out and when I woke up he was back, which was just like, the best. I like playing around with my epithet to see what it can do, it's fun and stuff. I've never used it to fight somebody or anything but I think I know it well enough to beat some dude up, kufufu~.

So yeah.

Motivation: I want to write a book and like, this is the most chill place I could imagine, but if some crazy stuff goes down I totally wanna be there to put it in my notes. Radical.

Assets:

• Focused - So like, your eyes have always gotta be ready for whatever the world throws at you, if you miss something then you're never going to get to put it in your book, which is totally bogus. So I don't let myself do that.
• Has a giant pen - It's like a stupid novelty I bought a few years back but it's like, super capable of bludgeoning things. It kinda looks like a katana which is weird...
• Bored - So like if you're going to do some weird pose for like ten minutes I'm totally just gonna walk away or something. Theatrics or whatever are totally lame.

Flaws:

• No Depth Perception - ...What? You want some kind of elaboration? No, I refuse, I'm not talking about it.
• Slave to the narrative - Listen, everything would be better if it followed a narrative, so I'm going to try my best to make life follow a narrative, and if that means screwing things up to make a better story well sucks to be you then doesn't it?
• Teamwork schmemework - I do my own thing, don't bug me about it and don't try to tell me how important or strong the power of friendship is, that's totally bogus.

Epithet - Clipboard

• Copy - The user gains photographic memory of any object, place, action, person, or word, so long as they write it down in a "clipboard", which will then allow the user to perform their other abilities.
• Paste - The user can summon any object that they have written down in their clipboard of choice, enabling perfect copies of objects or even people. These copies drain stamina as long as they are active, and copies of people are incapable of speech.
• Cut - The user crosses out an object in their clipboard, and it disappears from the world. The user can then write the object back in their clipboard, and it will return in the same state as when it left, in the same spot relative to the user. A person who has been clipped will not know any time has passed and it will seem as if they have teleported. The longer an object is gone, the more stamina it will take.
• Point - The user writes a number in their clipboard next to an object of choice, and can change the size of said object for a period of time. 12 is the object's natural size, and 24 is 2 times the object's natural size and so on. The larger the change the more stamina is used and the less time the transformation lasts.
• Tab Stop - The user writes a number in inches next to an object, and in the real world the object will move that amount to whatever direction the word is from the word in the clipboard. Larger distances require larger amounts of stamina.

theme songs

@Bluetommy

I like it! I have just two questions: are the directions Tab Stop moves things in relative to her? IE if something is in front of her and she writes the number above the thing's name in her clipboard, it would move farther away from her. Are you planning to write IC in first person, as well? I would prefer third-person, which would still allow you to narrate her inner thoughts.