Lugubrious

World of Light

-misplaced-

World of Light

Smash City Alcamoth

@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

Isabelle, still busy with her records and documentation, was glad for the brief rest Geralt's distraction allowed. She looked off into the middle distance and tapped her snout with her pen as she considered his question. “Hmm...light gray hair, green eyes, scar...nobody comes to mind on that account, I'm afraid. Corrin has red eyes, after all. But long dark hair, smells nice...that sounds a lot like Ms. Yennefer.” She glanced up at Geralt again, eyes wide. “Oh, is she your wife? I'm so glad! Lots of people haven't seen hide nor hair of their loved ones, so...oh, but you want to know where she is, of course.” The little dog screwed up her brows in concentration. “Ummmm! She's not a fighter, and I don't see her very much, so she's probably in the residential area! Go right until you see a hall, and then up the stairs are all the apartments.” She smiled, waving. “Good luck!”

Spotting an unfamiliar face, she waved a paw. “Hello! Welcome to Smash City Alcamoth. What can I put you down as?”

The boy she'd called out, a teenager with glasses and a mop of black hair approached to view her clipboard with a blonde girl in tow. “The desert,” he declared.

“Oh!” Isabelle said, realizing that he -like a number of other smashers here- had misunderstood. “I meant your name, for the reserves. Only the fighters who came in with Miss Peach are deploying to other zones immediately.”

Ren looked at her askew, making her balk and wonder if she'd said something wrong. “My friends and I aren't waiting in the background while others play the heroes.” He stared down the bridge of his nose. “We're moving out tonight.”

Flabbergasted, Isabelle ran over what he said in her head again. The idea that someone would refuse to cooperate never crossed her mind. Then again, if he intended to go alongside whichever heroes went to the desert, he was still cooperating in a way. “Oh! …Good luck!” she blurted out.

Ren stepped away to rejoin his friend and the pair made for an elevator. “Wasn't that a little cheesy?” Ann admonished. “You could have just ignored her. What if they come after us?”

“They won't,” the teenager assured her. “I took a look around. Other than Mewtwo and Bowser maybe, these are all a heroic or at least law-abiding sort. But if they do, we'll do whatever we need to.”

Ann looked around at the myriad characters as she stepped into the elevator and Ren pressed a button. “None of these people have red eyes, though.”

“But they're not real, like you and me. They're ultimately still shadows. Which means we can't count on them.”

“I guess. Hey, where's Ryuji?”

Ren watched the floor recede as the elevator rose. “I mentioned we'd be getting lunch, but someone wanted to spar, so he went off to check it out.”

After arriving at the second level, the pair followed the flow of people in a semicircle around Alcamoth. It took only a few minutes for them to catch an appetizing smell on the air, and after that they spotted the place easily. They might have kept walking to check more options if not for the name: Monas' Pizza and Pasta. They shared a glance. “It can't be that easy,” Ann said, but she walked its way nonetheless. Apparently a casual Italian restaurant, it seemed popular judging by all the patrons, including a chummy-looking fellow in elaborate armor and a little guy with an actual cup for a head. She and Ren, however, were far more interested in the feline visible though the kitchen window.

“Mona!?”

The cat's big, round head span around, and his blue eyes went wide. “Guys!” He dropped his cheese grater, sprinted for the edge of the table, grabbed hold of a broom, vaulted across the walkway, and landed on the windowsill. Then, without even a hint of delay, he launched himself toward Ann. “I missed yoouuuuuuuu!”

Ren caught him mid-flight, which turned his look of joy into one of disappointment, but when both his friends squeezed him in a big hug the next moment he decided he didn't mind after all. “Jeez, took you long enough! Where the heck have you been? I've been...uh, well...”

Setting him down, Ann got a good look at his apron. “You've been making pizzas?”

Mona coughed. “No! Well, um, I mean, yeah. But I had a good reason! I...I must have...”

While he tried to think of it, the other Mona appeared at the window. “Mona? What's going on?”

The cat put his hands on his hips. “These are my friends, Mona! The people I belong with. I'm sorry, but I have to do this!” He tugged off his apron, which took a lot more effort than it should have, and tossed it across the windowsill. “I quit! And by the way, you can call me Morgana now. Never knowing who people are talking to is so annoying!”

“But...” Mona looked overcome by it all. “But what about the restaurant? I can't run this place on my own!” She looked out across the tables, anxious. “Nobody around Alcamoth knows anything about pizza!”

One of the customers, a long-eared lady in silver armor, raised her hand. “You could always put in a request with the mercenaries. Once that's operational, I bet we could find someone who could help you. There's no way we're just letting this place, close, after all!”

The other veteran customers put up a murmur of collective agreement. Mona's eyes filled with tears of gratitude, washing away the sudden despair. “Oh, thank you! Yeah, let's do that!”

Morgana approached and reached up his little hand toward Mona to shake. “You were a good boss and a real hard worker, Mona! You're a great human, and I hope that someday I can be more like you. Good luck!” He then turned resolutely and padded away, obliging his friends to follow. When far enough he said, “So! What're we doing?”

“We were going to get food, but...we probably should go somewhere else,” Ann looked around. “Do you know anywhere?”

Nodding emphatically, Morgana pointed down the 'street'. “Sushi Striker! And while I'm eating, you two can tell me what you've been up to, and where everyone else is.”

Ann sighed. “We'll be eating too, you know.”

Dead Zone

@EvilEdd1984

The devastation of Bathin, wrought both by and against him, left collateral damage across the battlefield. A weighty blow struck the hierophant, first getting its attention, and then knocking it down. It hissed in frustration, but sensing that it wasn't the object of the others' attention and not wanting to get involved in their fight either, it turned its attention back to the Slayer. A good look at the armored man nimbly swinging across the lava stream left the hierophant surprised, and in its haste to ready its trident it stepped back onto a piece of rubble that scraped beneath its foot. The poor footing meant that it couldn't escape the coming wrath. Roaring like a man possessed, the Slayer bulled forward and tore into the hierophant's clattering ribcage with his chainsaw. Its teeth sheared through the carapace like it was cardboard and messily tore into its organs, sending a shower of icky brownish blood to hiss and evaporate on the ground. Screeching, the monster struggled in vain to escape, but for all its effort it gained only a fleeting moment to watch as the Slayer cut its own heart out of its chest. Then the hierophant shuddered and went limp, turning to ash.

Its spirit floated to the ground, but a blue key beat it there. The device clattered off the ground and came to a rest by the lava stream. Together with the red key already in the Slayer's possession and the yellow key left behind by Bathin, he could unlock the barrier walling off a portion of the Gore Nest and get at the sentinel crystal within. Of course, stepping into that putrid hive was just the beginning; to truly eliminate the horrid growth, he would need to put an end to the gruesome heart beating in the facility below, a brief elevator ride away. According to his map, the second sentinel crystal lay down there as well, a just reward for ridding the world of such a malignant growth.

As he headed in, the survivors of the battle marshaled together. From the direction of the van came Nadia, fresh as a daisy and wielding a brand-new scythe of bone and lustrous metal and tailed by Pandemonica. V, Griffon, and their new acquaintance approached from the upper level of the battlefield, and from the direction of the half-ruined delicatessen strode Nero and Dante. They met near the center of the cleft arena, a comfortable distance from the burgeoning heat of the lava river running through it. Nadia, having sit out the brutal struggle and received a shiny toy for her efforts, was all smiles. “Hey guys, check out what Nico made me! Isn't it just so purr-fectly macabre? It's super adjustable, just like me!” She gave it a few swings, showing off the scythe's pivoting head and extendable spine, before planting its haft to take a look at the newcomers. “Making friends, huh? Well hiya, I'm Miss Fortune, but really I'm one lucky cat.” She eyed the unknown woman in particular. “Hey, another for the white-hair crew!”

Dante chuckled. “Not too far off the mark there, are ya? Well, despite it all, I'm Dante. Nice to meetcha.”

The sharp-looking man with a severe haircut sensed it was his turn and gave a stiff bow of his head. “While I do not have white hair, I am Raidou Kuzunoha.”

Clapping a hand on her nephew's shoulder, Dante explained, “Ol' Nero here's given me the works. I'm all for round two with tall, dark, and smelly hunkered down in the Qliphoth over there, but I don't do daycare. You kids gonna be able to handle yourselves?”

Nadia smirked. “Puh-lease. Nero was the same way when meeting the rest of us. You his mom or something?”

An indeterminate expression lingered on the legendary devil hunter's face before he coughed. “Ahem! Aunt, I guess.”

“Well, you don't need to worry about us. Besides, I'm only going as far as the next root thingy anyway.”

Dante shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just don't haunt me if things go sour, 'kay?” She turned back, giving those assembled a good view of the remarkable sword on her back. Nero waved to get Nico's attention and indicate that she should drive around the Gore Nest and accompanying pit to meet on the other side.

Getting the feeling the people were leaving while he was still under-informed, Raidous spoke up. “Hold on. I do not have these works of yours, I do not know who you are, and I do not know what you are doing. Please tell me.”

Pandemonica adjusted her glasses. “This group's endeavor is to challenge the great monstrosity lurking within monumental flesh tree yonder.” It didn't take any pointing from her for Raidou to guess what she was referring to. “Until such time as all its roots are purged, it remains inaccessible. Each root is connected to a somewhat notable adversary. You understand the chain of events.”

“We're not an organization or anything, just a few people thrown together by chance,” Nero clarified. “Dante, V, and I want to tear Urizen a new one, Nadia wants to beat the next miniboss, Pandy wants to get out of here--”

“Pandemonica.”

“And that guy...” he looked at the Slayer. “Wants to rip and tear. By the way, the whole city's gonna blow some time tomorrow, so you probably ought to scram.”

Raidou made up his mind. “I intend to. If you do not mind, I will travel with you. When we near the border, I will depart.”

Griffon flapped his wings for attention. “We ain't gonna help the crazy guy, right? He's hellbent on diggin' into this meat pile, so we're leaving him to it. Right?"

Thinking about it, Nero looked in the direction that the Slayer left. Logic dictated that he advance, but... "I'll help him out. Won't take long." Though Nadia rolled her eyes, she stepped up to join him, and so did Raidou. V, however, went after Dante, and Pandemonica followed.

Down below, at the bottom of the elevator, the Slayer found what had once been an energy facility. Its demon-filled corridors slowly but surely led to a central hub, where the heart of the Gore Nest throbbed in short-lived seclusion.

Persona ~ The Beholder

Kirsty Ramaswamy

@CriticalHit@BCTheEntity@CondorTalon

Though Kirsty felt sick, dizzy, lost, trapped, and hopeless, and would not have been surprised if she pitched over and died at any moment, she did not perish there, leaning against the wall. As the seconds passed by, the shock faded, which did surprise her as she realized it. Maybe the body could only process so much shock? Maybe now that she'd hit rock bottom, she understood at some basic, biological level that everything would be a step up?

It was at about that time that Liam cut in. While his name eluded her, Kirsty recognized the friendly face that tried to make her feel better that morning. Well, more like 'appreciated' than 'better', since she couldn't have possibly known how low she'd been. Actually, now that she thought about it, Kirsty wondered -with just a touch of mania threatening to make her laugh out loud- if this current predicament really was that bad. After all, it beat going on an awful date with Drew, and whatever nightmare lay in store at Navarro's house. She didn't want to go to either, of course, but she couldn't have thrown away her support and her education to indulge those feelings. Now that the choice had been taken from her hands, Kirsty, lightheaded and adrift felt a strange sort of relief. Even thankfulness. Whatever came next, at least it wasn't her fault. Then again, her fault or not, what came next was probably the end of her existence. Dying her seemed preferable.

The strange peace and gratitude stemming from those feelings stirred together in the black cauldron of this bizarre witching hour to give Kirsty a semblance of strength. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself off the wall. Liam seemed to have approached. He might have said something, but Kirsty heard nothing more than murmurs, like audio corruption through a pair of bad earbuds, while she'd been looking inward. When he yelled out in panic, however, she jumped hard enough to nearly lose her glasses. “Ee!” Just a second later she got a hold of herself, beating Liam to the punch in that regard. The silliness of her being scared by someone else going nuts threatened to make her laugh again. Kirsty allowed herself another second to pull herself together, and that ended up being just in time to hear Alina's name.

“Hello then, Alina,” she greeted. “It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

Despite what Alina said, however, Liam did manage to shake the other guy awake. He awoke with a furious energy, like a guy who he knew he slept through his first and second alarms and had slept late last week, too. Except Tate let his anger burn against the first people he happened to see after getting up. He staggered to his feet and demanded an explanation from the other confused students. Or else.

His ultimatum left Kirsty shocked. Surely she must have misheard? “H-how should we know?” she blurted out, suddenly so aware of the time limit that her mouth started moving on its own. “Are you th-threatening us? We're in the same boat here!” She knew she was in the right, but a fat lot of good that would do her against a man convinced otherwise who stood a head taller and weighed probably twenty kilo more than her. Wildly looked around to the others for help or at least some kind of solidarity. Would this guy, delirious or dumb enough to antagonize the one familiar element in an alien world, even respect the numbers advantage?

In the silence that followed her panicked declaration, a noise reached the group through the fog. The padding of many feet. Through the mist slid dark shapes, moving smoothly together. Kirsty's breath caught in her throat and she stepped back. That urge to laugh a helpless hollow laugh came once again. We're so screwed.

She watched as dogs emerged from the mist, two at a time. They had sleek black coats, downturned ears, stringy manes of long gray fur, pronounced fangs, and tails longer and thinner than any dog she'd ever seen. Worst of all, their eyes were an otherworldly blue-green, their pupils white. Just looking at them made goosebumps spring out across her skin, and the hair on the back of her neck rise. No man ever owned a dog like these. Of that she felt sure. They stood staring at the students, silent as death, until another, much larger shadow stirred in the fog. From the swirls of contemptible vapor plodded a great hound, its flesh mottled and hairless, its sagging jowls baring twisted fangs, pits of opalescent color in the recesses of its eyes.

It howled, and Kirsty screamed. She turned tail and sprinted the other way down the street as fast as her legs could carry her. Her feet pounded the pavement and her heart drummed against her chest as she fled this way and that, running blindly to escape the pack. The baying of the monstrous hound drove her onward in terror, and she the patter of who knew how many silent dogs' feet. Their teeth nipped at her heels and their jaws snapped shut centimeters from her limbs, but somehow she avoided getting brought down. Finally, after what seemed like an age, she spotted light down the street, flickering in the fog. All rational thought had departed her; in the heat of the moment, light meant good, so with her breath tearing through her throat she rounded a corner onto the street and stopped as if hit in the face.

In front of her lay an avenue of extravagant beauty. The fog melted away before the light of braziers, warm fire pits, and countless candles of every size and color. On either side stretched temple after glorious temple, their facades clad in silks and golden ornamentation. Even the cobblestones were marble, and over the street stretched lengths of patterned cloth and rows of sweet-smelling hanging lanterns. Behind her, the dogs disappeared into the night as if no more than swirls of fog themselves, and Kirsty staggered down the street, her eyes wide open. Before the temples stretched rows of tables and seats, arranged and decorated for a banquet or party of mythic proportions. Within the buildings she could see the glimmer of untold riches. “This must be a dream after all,” she whispered, flummoxed beyond measure.

Epithet Erased: Use Your Words

After the breeze carried Penny's words away, a moment passed, and then a small voice reached her team through the trees. “Okay! I'm staying!” After a brief reunion with Mark, they possessed more than enough power to get a search underway. The jungle messed with the travel of sound, making the rescue operation less than perfectly straightforward, but it ultimately took only a short time in order to track down the source of the noise. Additional calls of 'over here!' and 'help!' from the person of interest helped speed it up as well. Lo and behold, the little team converged around a tall palm tree with a most unusual feature. They spotted a little girl with reddish hair streaked by black, stuck seven feet up against the wooden trunk in a dark mound like molasses. It possessed no discernible shape or characteristics other than its color, slight transparency, and evident rigidity, although some melted streaks of the stuff appeared to be dribbling down the trunk like syrup on the side of its jug. No matter how the child wriggled, she couldn't break free of her sticky prison, and from how tired she looked she'd been trying for a while now. Her face, red from crying, stared pleadingly down at the older girls. “Can you get me down? Please! I have to find my mommy!”

World of Light

@Yankee I can really see your dedication to the character in the meticulous effort you put into her backstory! Accepted.

World of Light

@ProPro, Mag Launcher is accepted.

Overlord: How Like A God

@Lunarlord34 Here are some ideas if you're going for a demon hunter or other anti-demon fighter. There's always the holy angle, which includes things like banish, repel (force out or away), repudiate (attack with a divine voice, perhaps conducting rituals) seal (blocking foes' abilities or trapping them, potentially inside stuff), ward (protective barriers or marks that can defend against wounds or statuses), boundary (creating holy lines that cannot be crossed, and can be used to cut unholy things), and so forth. Controlling the battlefield and keeping dark forces at bay with defensive miracles. There's also blessed weaponry. This can all fulfill the stereotypical paladin aesthetic or go for a more renegade priest style. Someone also doesn't need to be of a divine bent to use divine weapons. Why not buy a vial of holy water off some monk and coat your sword with it like poison when going to fight demons?

Alternatively, there's the idea of a monster that turned against its kind, or of someone who become monstrous to fight the monsters. In that case, empowering curses, berserker abilities (growing stronger from wounds and such), or skills that lend themselves toward subterfuge (disguise, magic bombs, et cetera) could fit the bill.

You could also create classes stemming from in-game lore that you make up. Maybe there's an extreme sect in the setting that arms its church hunters with brutal weapons or trains merciless inquisitors to seek out and slaughter evil wherever it may lurk with ruthlessly weaponized versions of more benign monastic tools and iconography. In the game Dante's Inferno, the main character (a sort of paladin) literally blasted out radiant crosses three at a time as projectiles. There's another game called Blasphemous with some imagery that might interest you.

Anyway, that's all just spitballing. Maybe it was helpful though?

Overlord: How Like A God

hmm seeming to hit a brick wall with abilities personally. Almost done with my sheet if not for it.

@Lunarlord34

Want a hand? We could toss some ideas around with you.

Overlord: How Like A God

Yep, Nyarlathotep's the name of the game. In a modern sense, such an entity that spreads chaos and discord is a consummate troll, do I ran with that. The cohorts definitely weren't planned to be in the stronger side, since he doesn't care about them much. I'm super hyped to see what everything he else has in store.

Overlord: How Like A God

Any thoughts on my sheet, DC? I did my best to carry it over into the new format, but without an example I couldn't be sure