Lugubrious

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

If anyone was wondering about the start date for this RP, I plan for it to be no later than this coming weekend. Enough time to fill out the roster a little more (hopefully) but not so much that those who've already applied could get bored. Of course, it's tough to wait; I'm excited to kick things off!

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

The RP's looking good at five out of ten roster spots taken! This limit isn't absolutely final but it's what we're going with for now.

As a heads-up for anyone still looking to make an application, I've got a few notes based on the insight I have from seeing the Metaverse sections of all the approved sheets.

• As it stands we have a great spread of Specialties, so you don't need to worry about overpopulation of any role
• We're comparatively light on female characters at the moment, which I don't have a personal issue with but I know people like to fill vacancies
• A more notable vacancy is that we're also light on characters with external conflicts, whose awakening would result from an encounter with a Warlord rather than their own shadow. While choosing this isn't a disadvantage at the RP's start, it does provide an investment for the future and would allow you to contribute your own Warlord to encounter down the line
• I would say that we've got enough characters at the moment with the Curse element
• If you're looking for a unique melee weapons, I'll let slip that we have mostly variants of swords and bludgeons so far

In addition to the Roster section in the characters tab I plan to add a section for notable NPCs, ones who will be actively present in the story and are important for the PCs. If you all want you can put out a quick write-up for your own NPCs and I can add them to the list.

An open question: would people be interested in a Discord server for quick and easy communication once the RP officially begins?

World of Light

Team Mao

Location: Al Mamoon Northeast - Rocket Inc.
Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Mao’s @Potemking, Jesse’s @Zoey Boey, Laharl’s @Dark Cloud, Joker, Mona, Fox, Necronomicon, Braum

Though an excellent distraction, the flame atronach turned out to be not quite as good a fighter. It did its best to pepper Mao with fireballs, but it was no great shakes in the evasive department. The bespectacled overlord’s simple strategy to cut off its escape worked wonders and he landed a solid hit across its chest that it didn’t even try to block. Realizing this left Mao both wondering if this summoned sprite even possessed a defensive instinct, and left him with nearly free reign to dispatch the construct without breaking a sweat.

Still, the flame atronach did its job in buying its conjurer enough time. The Dragonborn managed to get his Homeward Bone in hand and was just about to squeeze it to dust when a piece of the floor itself erupted out of the ground to attack him. Its weight dealt a crushing blow to his ribs as it tumbled the man across the floor on its way to Jesse. The journey relieved him of his axe, and as he came to a stop at the redhead’s feet he found the modified barrel of his enemy’s Service Weapon leveled at his chest. His eyes went wide and his mouth gaped in fear--even a medieval warrior such as he must have come to know the lethality of firearms with the other Resistance members for company. But still he clutched his last resort in his hand. Panic galvanized his nerves into action, shattering his Homeward Bone as the deafening Shatter blast sounded out. A vortex of magic bone dust swirled around him, but a spray of blood exploded from the armored impact point, and before the man disappeared Jesse saw him jolt in shock. Then he faded away, leaving behind a big stain of blood and that marvelous green-bladed axe.

Once Mao dealt with the flame atronach, he and Jesse could reconvene. Although they couldn’t be absolutely certain that the Dragonborn had died, the wound the FBC director put in him had been a gristly one even with his armor. It fell to whoever might be around wherever the warrior would show up, either to heal him as quickly as possible or clean up the newly-arrived mess.

---

Even in the chaos of a burning trash storm giant rings of light stood out quite prominently, and normally Shadow would have been able to dodge them all without issue. Thanks to Necronomicon’s scanning, however, Sectonia could not just shoot at where her spiky-headed opponent was, but where he was going to be. His ego, meanwhile, couldn’t conceive of such slow and obvious attacks hitting him, and Shadow quickly wrote off what looked like haphazardly-aimed spells as ignorable. As such it came as an exceptional surprise when he suddenly found himself cornered in the sky of all places, and Shadow soon found that even a glancing blow from the rings was no joke.

“Gah!” he spat, clenching his teeth in rage. This was starting to get annoying. His LMG put out a lot of damage, as Sectonia’s wounds attested, but with just another second spent holding down the trigger his weapon exhausted the last of its ammo. Any moment now the gradual dispersal of the trash cloud would render it useless as cover or distraction, too. “It’s about time I ditched these worthless toys,” he growled. If these peons wanted to bother him with magic, he could return the favor with Chaos. As Shadow held his hand aloft a pillar of energy formed over it, ready to cast. “Chaos Spear!”

He hurled the energy javelin at Sectonia, then teleported to another angle to throw another. As she moved he planned to follow, trying to bring the battle closer to the roof of the building. After a couple tosses he started rolling out Spin Attacks, curling up to throw himself at Sectonia in an effort to smash and shred her as a high-speed ball of spikes. If he bounced off her defense or body at close range, he could uncurl to follow up with a string of close-quarters-combat moves, mostly kicks punctuated with burning exhaust from his Air Shoes. Sectonia had the stats and the tools to keep up with him before, but soon she would realize just how deep his bag of tricks really went.

After another session of traded blows, the battle reached its climax as Shadow pulled out a trump card. Until now he’d only used his most potent power defensively, saving his energy for later. He’d been saving it for this. “Chaos Control!” he yelled, and as time slowed down he summoned a Chaos Spear to hang in the air once thrown. Far enough away from Sectonia, it wouldn’t break the stasis, so in quick succession Shadow planted spear after spear. After that, he dusted his hands with a smirk. “Time to end this.” He closed his fist. “Now.”

As spears converged on Sectonia, Necronomicon’s sensors went wild. Somehow Shadow had launched an absurdly powerful attack, one against which escape and defense were nigh impossible. But the Persona knew a way. “No!”

A barrier sprang to life around Sectonia, protecting her. Necronomicon’s ultimate ability, Final Guard, prevented her destruction. When the miracle faded, the two could see Shadow taken by total surprise and fit to be tied. “What!? How!?”

---

The look of surprise on Amara’s face told Joker exactly how much she expected the new arrivals to actually accede to her request, but the Siren wasn’t about to object. Forced to assume that Ciella’s allies wouldn’t go back on their word, she turned her full attention back to the statuesque rabbit lady, and just like that the fight was back on.

As bullets, arrows, and astral projections started flying once more, Joker considered Midna’s reminder. Maybe he hadn’t been listening earlier, but when was it decided they needed to spare these people? What distinguished these Shadows from any other enemies? Sure, they were unique, but given those already defeated without that much trouble, they did not possess enough ability to be of particular notice. This World of Light surely contained countless unique Shadows, and however optimistic the Seekers might be they couldn’t save them all. Besides, as the presence of a living and breathing Shadow the Hedgehog so helpfully confirmed, these were not real people. Just cognitive entities, figments of the collective human heart. Their ‘lives’ were nothing to bat an eye over. Joker found himself wondering if all these Shadows came from games, which would definitely explain a lot. Of course, with Midna being a Shadow herself, he couldn’t tell her any of this. “Of course we won’t let our ally die,” he told her instead, before narrowing his eyes at Amara. “As for her..Galeem doesn’t change personality. She and her friends tried to slaughter us back there, and you want to play nice with her?” Joker didn’t put any scorn or derision into his voice, hoping Midna would reconsider.

She started dancing, and Joker left her to it. Fox watched for a moment, intrigued by the artistry at work, but once he recognized repeat performances as well as the power that accumulated around her each time, the act lost its savor for him. He did, however, glance over at Joker when Midna questioned what exactly he did with Jinx. “Negotiation,” he replied simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “We had a chat, came to understand one another, and I recruited her. She’ll be helping us from here on out.” His curiosity and amusement shone in his eyes. “That’s the sort of thing you’d prefer, right?”

He fell silent as the duel in the conference chamber came to a head. After exhausting the last of her ammunition, Amara had no choice but to close the distance and engage her foe head-on. She ran out of cover with her arms summoned, hurling boulders of ice across the room. Ciella sneered, turned her back as she drew her bow, and allowed the projectiles of her own element to shatter against her to almost no effect. Counting on such a reaction, Amara unleashed her energy projectiles, two in quick succession. A neon blue facsimile of the brawler burst up from the ground with an uppercut, and Ciella took it on the chin. The force spun her around to receive a projected sucker punch, haymaker, and finally hammer fist in quick succession, followed by Amara herself.

The Siren let loose a ferocious battlecry and lay into Ciella with every arm at her disposal. She unleashed a withering barrage of punches to smash the taller woman into submission, her summoned limbs a blur of magic as she brought the pain.

Joker and Midna both tensed up, ready to jump into action, but Fox held up a cautionary hand. “Wait! Look closer.” Joker followed his friend’s advice and noticed after another second the fog beginning to accumulate around the two. With every strike another swath fell from Ciella’s body, filling the air. “I’m well-acquainted with the utility that some icy mist can provide,” Fox told them. “If she can survive bullets, she can survive this. Her attacker is blinded by the light of her own arms and can only see straight ahead. Even though it looks bad, this ally of ours…” He narrowed his eyes as the mist filled the room. “Is right where she wants to be!”

With a final cry Amara dealt a brutal knockout blow, and as Ciella staggered backward, she smirked and faded away. Joker blinked, confirming what his eyes were telling him: that Ciella had turned invisible. The mist wasn’t thick enough to actually obscure her from sight, but she’s vanished nonetheless. As Amara’s chest heaved from the exertion she looked around in confusion at all the mist. The sound of a bowstring drew her attention, but a projectile in that direction as she dodged turned up nothing. A moment later a blue glow of gathered water started to build up behind her, prompting a bemused shake of the head. “That’s your best strategy? Sneak around and start charging?”

As she prepared to conjure another fist, Fox tapped Joker’s shoulder and nodded at the floor. A dark purple circle had appeared directly beneath Amara right after the bowstring noise, and within a purple circle was growing toward the outer edges. As Amara unleashed her astral fist, the circle finally reached its outer limits. In an instant a rain of pressurized water arrows dropped on her position, dealing immense damage as the deluge continued to fall. Joker realized that Ciella must have employed a delayed and easily dodgeable but highly lethal attack, then kept Amara from noticing via both her mist and herself as a decoy.

There was no final moment, no witty one-liner or derisive dismissal. The arrowfall lasted only a handful of seconds, but Amara died well before it concluded. Through sheer bad luck, the style of attack meant Midna’s couldn’t throw a friend heart in either, as the arrows would wash it away. Amara’s ashes diffused into the water as Ciella approached, her expression and stride imperious. “Foolish brute. Deceive yourself no longer.” She stooped to snatch up Amara’s spirit from the muck and peered at the confident grin of the woman within through the slits of her mask. “Your power will aid me in dispelling the delusions of your comrades.”

Joker watched, surprised and intrigued, as the Grimleal lieutenant placed the spirit in her chest. After the ensuing lightshow, a shorter but more toned Ciella stood before him. Her odd garment had separated at the midriff to a white top beneath a big-collared purple leather jacket, its shoulderpads spiked. Her purple dress now came up to a tie at her waist, rather like a sarong, over black shorts. Even at half length her hair still reached below her waist, though the inside appeared to be black rather than blue. Blue tattoos could be seen across the left hand side of her body. She sniffed as she rolled her shoulders, coolly getting a feel for her new build and height. “Acceptable. Let’s proceed.” Without protest Joker and Fox turned to leave the conference chamber behind, and head for where the others were grouping up.

Big Band

Level 3 Big Band (21/30)
Location: Al Mamoon Northwest - Obelisk Temple
Primrose’s @Yankee
Word Count: 457

Without much in the way of brains inside those skulls of theirs, the skeletons couldn’t appreciate art if it smacked them in the face. That said, with Band playing his bagpipes and Primrose powering him up with a dance, nothing was actually hitting the bony rabble, or otherwise stopping them from clattering forward to attack. Band’s melodious taunt came to an abrupt end as the three leftover skeletons attacked in sequence, each landing a free sword swipe or club bash. Band winced. “This blows.”

At least the detective did manage to defend himself against the Stalmaster’s far more dangerous quadruple-slash. He deflected the blades using a cymbal shield and stepped back for a little extra space, but the four-armed marauder sensed weakness and pressed forward. It was the wrong move; since Band felt the power of Primrose’s Lion Dance strengthening him, all he needed was the assurance that his enemies wouldn’t be dodging before he put his own best foot forward. And there wouldn’t be a better opportunity than a reckless lunging attack.

“Supersonic!” Band called, deploying sound rockets from his front that arced around above and below him to resemble a french horn. He burst forward and slammed into the whole gaggle of skeletons to throw them back. After driving them a short distance he pulled in the horns, but carried the momentum forward as both Brass Knuckle arms deployed from beneath his coat. A gratiuitous flurry of punches that splinter, shattered, and finally powdered the truculent bones.”Tubatubatubatubatubatubatubatubatuba--TUBA!” With a final punch Band sent the only survivor sailing backward, but what little the Stalmaster had left of its vitality got mopped by an explosive grand finale from Primrose. Her dark magic scattered the remains of the duo’s assailants to the winds, never to reconstitute. Thankfully their spirits drifted down to the bridge, though.

Band had watched the brutalized bones disperse with a look of satisfaction. “Even the sky ain’t the limit,” he smiled. The little joy lasted only a moment, though, as neither he nor Primrose could afford to wait so long as their allies were in jeopardy. They made their way down the rest of the bridge to where it overlooked the lower promontory. Though solid stone, it featured no extra supports to keep it up, and Band eyed it dubiously. “What’re the odds I bust right through? I mean, I can’t fly right now, can’t airdash, nothin’. If it doesn’t hold, it’s goodbye pork pie hat.” Through the doorway he could hear the sounds of melee combat, metal against metal, as well as tones he could only describe as magical. With no time to waste, he stepped aside to let Primrose pass. “I’ll follow your lead. No sense crackin’ it before you get across.”

Yoshitsune

Location: Al Mamoon Northwest - Obelisk Temple
Yoshitsune’s @Rockin Strings, Skull, Panther

The taste of victory on their tongues, Skull and Panther pursued their targets at top speed, with a recovered Yoshitsune not far behind. They sprinted down the hieroglyphic-lined corridor after the retreating forms of Charnok and Beast, eager to seal the deal but mutually aware that, given the nature of Galeem’s influence, these two weren’t fleeing so much as relocating to a more advantageous position. Still, neither Skull nor Panther planned to back down. If everyone else was pulling their weight, as the sounds and cries of battle from both behind and below would imply, so would the Phantom Thieves.

A few moments after Yoshitsune caught up to the Thieves thanks to his fleet-footedness, the hallway opened up on the right side into a giant square chamber. Directly beyond the edge of where the corridor’s floor continued lay the edge of an enormous pool of water. It covered the entire room, except for where an incredible display of carved stone arose from the water on the far side. A handful of waterfalls poured down the tiers of the fountain between amazing statues, and behind them even the wall itself had been hewn into pillars, statue-filled recesses, and false windows.

The sight certainly took Skull and Panther off guard, but not their enemies, nor Yoshitsune for that matter. Without a second’s hesitation that samurai dashed off in pursuit of Charnok, who’d used his magic to rocket-propel himself up over the water and onto the fountain to gain the high ground. The water reached his knees and impaired his movement, forcing to dodge and splash around to avoid a flurry of fireballs. Even if they would sputter out with a hiss when they met the water, they would rack up the damage if they hit him. He couldn’t avoid them all, but when he finally reached Charnok he attacked as a cyclone of fiery steel. The dragon sorcerer summoned a storm of Hot Hail above him to deal constant damage in an area, to which he was immune, then after taking a few slices from Yoshitsune’s katanas unleashed a stream of flame from his staff to try cooking the man alive.

That left the dwarf for Skull and Panther. Hammer in hand, Beast stood on top of a floating snakeboard with a stolid glower, waiting for his foes to attack. Skull sighed. “Man, can’t believe we have to fight here. This place is totally sweet! Perfect date spot, huh, Panth?”

His friend raised an eyebrow at him. “What? How about we save goofing off ‘til after we beat this guy?” She jumped down into the water, followed shortly by Skull.

Immediately Beast began to move, releasing his hammer with one hand to bring forth a locus of sorcery. Panther’s eyes widened. She and Skull were sitting ducks. “This guy’s a mage! Persona!” Carmen appeared behind her with an elegant spin, flinging trails of water in a spiral. “Toast ‘em!”

The much faster spellcasting forced Beast on the defensive. As he leaned sideways the snakeboard beneath him shifted alongside him, allowing him to avoid the fireball. Skull produced his shotgun and started firing to keep up the pressure, while Panther waded in front of him. “Here’s a boost!”

“Got it!” Skull planted a foot in his friend’s cupped hands and kicked off as Panther threw him. He soared out of the water and into the air, his new club upheld. “Head’s up!”

Beast blocked the kanabo with his hammer, though not by much. Though lighter than him the teenager got better leverage from his height and started pushing Beast backward. He let go of his weapon again and grabbed Skull’s arm, casting Petrifying Touch. “What the fu-!” With a cut-off shout of surprise the boy got covered in stone and fell backward, off the snakeboard and into the water, face down.

“Skull!” Fangs bared, Panther moved in to help.

Ms Fortune

Level 4 Nadia (74/40)
Location: The Maw - the Depths
Blazermate's @Archmage MC, Bowser's @DracoLunaris, Ace Cadet's @Yankee, Sakura's @Zoey Boey, Frog's @Dark Cloud, Mirage’s @Potemking, Link’s @Gentlemanvaultboy
Word Count: 759

For Link

Items scrounged from boxes:
Suspicious Text Data x 815 - Pages of sensitive information transmitted unknowingly across insecure communications channels
Defunct Mind Control Helmet - A durable device capable of sending the wearer’s brainwaves to whoever might be unfortunate enough to be implanted with a receiver. This one doesn’t work
Structure Gel Vial x2 - Highly proteinated, cross-linked lubricant, and a conductor, and a signal medium, with aligned graphene in a petroleum monosubstrate, polysaturated matrix, containing fuel oils. The gel is encodable and can be calibrated with instructions to accomplish a specific function
Metal Scrap x8 - Bits and bobs of low quality. Can be melted down and fused together to increase quality, somehow
Miscellaneous Cords and Cables - Boy, there’s a lot of them. All shapes and sizes. And they’re really entangled
Metal Mold x 3 - Blocks of metal meant for use at a forge. One liquid metal is poured in, it will cool into whatever shape the mold had. There is one for a sawblade, one for a key, and one for a half-pair of scissors

Although Nadia and Ace couldn’t hear it since Link went inside the adjunct room, he spoke the truth: if they wanted to keep the pain train rolling, they needed a new strategy. Unfortunately, the pair up in the airborne labyrinth couldn’t exactly sit on their hands and ponder the matter. Just as Ace said, they needed to keep Moreau off their teammates’ backs. The damage to the starting platform made the idea of anyone getting back up to the catwalks from there look pretty much impossible, so Nadia and Cadet started making their way back toward the Command Center in scorched-earth fashion. Even as their little muscles grew sore the two bent to the task of dropping distraction after distraction to keep the infuriated fish focused on their side of the room.

That task, however, came to a sudden and premature end. As Ace and Nadia worked together to cut through a tougher-than-usual chain, the tool slipped and slipped right out of the kids’ numbed, weary hands. “Shoot!” Its weight and their finger strength meant they couldn’t get a hold on it before the bolt cutters dropped out of reach, and a moment later the final distraction plopped unceremoniously to the water. Scowling, Nadia smacked her fist against her leg. “Come. On! Can’t we catch a break?”

Wildly she looked around for something, anything she could use. Almost instantly the feral spotted Bowser down on the platform in front of the Command Center-adjacent hallway. He was yelling something about a jar, and as Nadia looked closer, incredulous, she realized he was fishing. The pint-sized King Koopa dangled bait of some kind down into the water using the rod he swiped from Moreau’s meager possessions, seeking to attract the mutated monster’s attention with that tasty(?) morsel.

Now, Nadia knew she wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to clever schemes, but even she saw the flaws in this plan. For one, she and Ace would need to get all the way through the dangling maze for a third time in order to get into position, and unless her monster-hunting buddy felt a whole lot less tired and sore than she did, that wasn’t going to be fast. Second, the Command Center was where the divers would be going once they finished their mission (her lack of realization that the lowering of the water would definitely prevent that notwithstanding), and Moreau would be right in their way. Third, and most poignantly, it wasn’t like Moreau was just going to snap up the bait.

Right on cue the monster surfaced again, plowing through the water once more on a collision course with Bowser’s platform. Nadia tightened the grip on her bridge’s railing as she clenched her teeth in worry. He was going to get smashed!

He did not. Just before Moreau rammed the platform Bowser leaped out of the way, putting his impressive jumping ability to excellent use. In fact he went high enough that the could grab the ladder that linked the platform and the catwalks without issue, making Nadia feel stupid for doubting him. The next second the abomination bulled underneath him, annihilating the wall-mounted metal grate Bowser once stood on and smashing into the wall itself a moment later. The second impact sent a shockwave through the whole Depths, enough to rock the suspended bridges above dangerously. Disquietingly close by, a loose section of bridge came loose of its own accord and plummeted down into the water.

Nadia gulped and slightly relaxed her deathgrip on the railing to run her nails through her hair. “Eheh, this whole thing might be a lot less stable than I thought…” It was agonizingly easy to imagine this very catwalk dropping right out from under her feet. Every sway needled her with anxiety. But her mission hadn’t changed. That monster needed to be attended to.

Maybe inspired by Bowser, Ace surprised her with a suggestion that they pursue an even more extreme fishing plan. When he asked about a net, she defaulted to an uncertain expression. “Sorry, I don’t remember seeing anything like that. If it didn’t seem useful at the time, I probably wouldn't commit it to memory.” Her eyes fell on the long section of broken-up bridge over the middle of the room. “But maybe we can use the grates? We can pull them out and drop them without the cutters. But whatever we do, we gotta hurry!” Before she could change her mind she detached herself from the railing and prepared to retrace her steps.

---

Unknown to those who remained in the Command Center, and all the more tragic for it, the cruel horror of the Depths had claimed its first victim. Paralyzed and rendered catatonic by mind-wrenching dissonance, the Mockingbird of Elliot Witt collapsed to the floor to drown in darkness of its pitiable mind’s own devisement. It lived only briefly, a copied existence, fleeting, fragile, and doomed. It fidgeted there on what might as well be the ocean floor, wires forever crossed, the suit of circuitry, structure gel, and necrotic human remains never to rise once more.

But a way off shone a twinfold light of hope, if not for the broken Mockingbird, then for its mission. Junior and Mirage’s BULL reunited not far from the entrance to their destination, joining forces both to hunt for Flow Control and to keep the long-haired swimmer at bay. The koopa in particular worked his controls erratically, fueled by the adrenaline of panic, and more than once his submarine lights swept over the sign by the doorway ahead without giving him the chance to read it. Still, it wasn’t long before, with a little extra direction from the Universal Helper, Junior came to the realization that his goal lay right before him. Through the open doorway he could direct his light to a large cluster of machines and pipes on the far side, about a hundred feet away. A flashing red light brought his attention to a wheel marked by big if faded letters as ‘Emergency Drain’. All that remained was a little maneuvering through the rather tight entrance and he could putter right up to it. While the submarine lacked the BULL unit’s manipulator claws, Junior had in Mimi a set of arms already proven able to reach through glass and affect the watery world beyond.

Of course, just as victory lay within reach, the faceless girl made her move. At high speed she swam down from above, her angle of attack almost unreachable for either craft’s spotlights. While Junior made his way into Flow Control, Mirage had only a brief moment in which to somehow keep the marine monster from reaching his friend.

---

Sakura’s search through Moreau’s knickknacks came up essentially empty-handed. Uncorking and otherwise opening the bottles invariably assaulted her with a potent chemical smell, as unrecognizable as it was unpleasant and singing her nose more often than not. The labels were neither English nor Japanese, but Eastern European if she had to guess, and thus useless.

Pressed up against the Command Center’s glass window and peering out at the situation unfolding with Moreau across the proverbial pond with every fiber of her being, Bella jumped a good foot off the ground when a sudden metallic slam rang out from the top of the room. She whirled around fast enough to smack her little leviathan tail into the window and elicit a grunt of annoyance, but her focus did not deviate from the ceiling.

For a moment she had thought that something went wrong with the machine arms anchored there, which would be bad considering the group probably needed those to get the divers out of the water. A thorough examination of the weighty contraptions, however, revealed no apparent fault. She wasn’t an engineer of course, but Bella felt pretty sure that if the machinery made a noise like that, she’d be able to see something wrong. So, at least that wasn’t a problem.

Any relief that she might have felt about that got buried beneath the weight of a follow-up realization. If that frighteningly abrupt noise came from the ceiling but not the machines...where did it come from?

Another smack resounded through the room, less intense than the first. Already looking upward, Bella was able to zero in on the sound. It didn’t come from the submarine-hoisting mechanism at all, but from a boxy structure that extended down out of the ceiling. Now a series of bumps and smacks issued from the vent, and while the rest of her was frozen Bella’s eyes followed the source of the noise as it moved down the length of the structure, turned a corner over the racks of diving suits, and continued over both the racks and the pilot seat until it reached the wall with the door everyone came through. Then the sound grew quiet and disappeared.

Bella released her breath, feeling a lot colder all of a sudden. Goosebumps formed on the pale skin that even the deep waters she once called home never managed to chill. She held onto her arms and shivered as she ran over to where Sakura, Peach, Geralt, and Rika stood together near Mirage’s pilot seat. “What was that? Something crawling around? I thought we were safe here. If something comes out, what are we going to do?”

The discussion didn’t last long. There came a terrible ruckus from the hallway between Maintenance and the Command Center as a vent burst open, and in a nightmarish parody of birth a swollen, malformed something pushed through to slump to the ground in a moist, heaving heap. On shaking legs it picked itself up to a full height of over six feet, a pustule-ridden amalgam of mutant flesh crowned with a ghastly face locked mid-scream, and with a wet, gurgled vocalization the eyeless Proxy began to hobble toward the nearest source of noise.

Cold Monastery

Location: Frozen Highlands - Alpine Skyline
Linkle’s @Gentlemanvaultboy

To Albedo’s chagrin Skadi looked quite happy to concern herself with her animal and nothing else, but when Linkle approached and knelt down next to her, the strange goddess purposefully kept her gaze trained on the doge. Though that initially prompted a needle of frustration, Albedo quickly realized that meant something else--that Skadi still recognized something she wanted to avoid, and hadn’t retreated all the way back to her new persona. And either Linkle saw it too, or in typical compassionate heroine fashion wasn’t going to give up on Skadi either way, because she reached out once more.

If the alchemist wondered what the Skullgirl could possibly say to fix this situation, his doubts were soon laid to rest. Both clever and empathetic despite the deathly hollowness that surely must be eating away at her insides, she questioned not Skadi’s intentions but what her course of action would actually accomplish. Then, with the goddess’s newfound uncertainty written on her face, Linkle offered the solution once more. It wasn’t so strange, she reasoned, for even a divinity to rely upon a hero in times of need. Smart moves. Albedo perceived an unanchored desperation that clung to Skadi, provoking her to cling to whatever gave her support. By the way she now wavered, he realized her grip wasn’t so strong that she would refuse a better option. She just needed a little extra push.

Albedo raised a hand, drawing elemental power from his Geo vision. An arcane sprout pushed through the floorboards, ice, and drawings to reach the open air, and as Skadi looked on with wide eyes the sudden growth bloomed into a Solar Isotoma. “These are not empty promises. We may look young, but it would not be inaccurate to say that the two of us have power over life and death itself. We can do this.”

He could sense an immediate change in Skadi. The dam had been broken. “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I believe you want to help. I believe you can help. That...that man...he’s insatiable. Unless he’s stopped, none of us...are safe.” She looked Linkle in the eyes, and did not shrink away from the scarlet skull halves within. “My step-daughter’s name...is Freya. She dwells in an autumn glenn in the midst of a misty wood. Please, keep her safe.” For the first time, the eyes of the bizarre goddess turned hard. “And make that man pay.”

She went back to her doge and buried her face in his fur. Satisfied at last, Albedo turned away to reconvene with Father Guerra and Linkle a safe distance away, once his new friend finished her farewells. The priest looked impressed. “That was well handled. Oftentimes the other residents and I visit her to keep her company, but we’ve never managed to get her to open up like that.” He took a sip of his coffee, shrugging. “Then again, we never had a reason to.” Somewhere between curious and amused, he looked between the Monastery’s young guests. “Is true, what you said. That life and death stuff?”

It was Albedo’s turn to shrug. “Does it matter?”

“I suppose not.”

The small group headed back through the basement and up to the third tower’s first floor. So evident was the question of where to go next that Albedo scarcely felt the need to ask. Luck continued to be on their side. “Would the misty wood in question be down at the base of these mountains, do you think?” he prompted Linkle.

Guerra scratched his chin. “While it’s impossible for someone like me, if you two are all you say, there might be a way to the bottom.” He led the way to a window overlooking the Alpine Skyline. “See those little mountain villages? Those ropes hanging between ‘em all are stronger than they look. This tower’s got at least one tied to it. Might be able to zip between ‘em until you reach the bottom.”

Albedo thought about it. Sliding beneath a rope through freezing air over a ridiculous drop sounded neither safe nor fun, but it would be fast, and should the worst come to pass he could pull out his glider. He glanced at Linkle to gauge her reaction, both to the potential destination and the journey.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

I'm thinking Empress for an arcana for my character concept. I will definitely be looking for some assistance on the metaverse side of things, so once the CS is in a respectable state I'll PM you Lu.

@Yankee

Sounds like a plan!

Incidentally, I'm thinking of reserving an Arcana for a story function. Priestess maybe.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

@Mistress Dizzy What you currently have is functional, but in my eyes the Personality section could be a little broader to give more of an impression of what really makes Jin, Jin. A deeper glimpse into the character's humanity.

Right now my impression is just that Jin is smart but antagonistic. Does sharp-tongued mean an inclination to insult people maliciously, or just sarcastic jokes? Is Jin defensive and vindictive or does Jin actively like knocking other people down a peg with wits and insults? Does that imply resentment for people who have it better than Jin, or just a dislike of idiots/egoists/loudmouths? You could also include things like desires, likes, dislikes. Is continuing (AKA, mere survival) all Jin wants out of life? Is spite the only motivator? Is there maybe more to the character than this outwardly nasty side?

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

This looks awesome. Count me in if there's space. I skimmed the interest check and I'm not sure if you're full or not.

@Mistress Dizzy

I'm so glad you think so! And yep, we've got plenty of space. Happy to have you along for the ride.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

The Chariot - Barney Rynsburger

Human

Name: Barney Rynsburger

Age: 24

Arcana: the Chariot

Appearance: At 6’2” and 240 lbs, Barney’s a broad-shouldered, stocky man particularly notable for a head of trimmed dark russet curls and a decently well-kept ducktail beard that’s a lot redder than his hair. All this plus the intentful cast of his brow and the slight hook of his broad nose would make him look formidable and maybe even intimidating if not for a pair of big, watery dark brown whose roundness suggest a permanent state of slight surprise. He doesn’t stoop or slouch, but he still seems to take up less space than his frame would imply.

On any given day this time of year, he can be found in a two-toned harrington tartan jacket, with white sleeves and trim on a red coat with that characteristic plaid pattern on the inside. Beneath that he wears a comfortable cotton crewneck sweater, white, with a pair of rectangular reading glasses hanging from the neck. A pair of dark brown, low wale corduroys plus black sneakers complete the outfit. He doesn’t really accessorize, other than a small metal cross necklace from his mother, but sometimes wears a tartan beanie.

Personality: Its easy, and not necessarily wrong, to look at Barney Rynsburger and see a pretty ordinary guy. He’s pleasant with a quietly cheery outlook, considerate, and good at casual conversation even if not the most outgoing. Although he avoids conflict and is not very assertive he isn’t lacking in self-esteem, instead giving off the impression of someone who’s got himself together, a pal who can be counted on to lend a hand when needed.

Most notable is his sense of duty. Barney is a principled fellow, possessed of a potent personal and work ethic, who does his best to be seen as strong and dependable. Although never one to boast, he’s secretly happy that people sometimes call him ‘responsible’ or ‘selfless’. Not a man of half-measures, he holds himself to a high standard and takes his commitments and responsibilities seriously. He’s stubborn, both in a way that allows him to persevere through hardship and in a way that sometimes makes it hard to deal with changes. He’s not an impulsive decision-maker and prefers time to think things through and choose the path that’s best for everyone, which is partly why its tough to convince him to change tact once he’s gotten started. His sense of duty extends to the bigger picture, too. He puts too much of himself into his work, his choices, and the level of help he provides to others, making him sensitive to criticism and easily crestfallen. Neither a genius nor naturally talented, he’s gotten where he is through hard work, which sometimes leads him to quietly looks down on those who put no effort into their lives, or to get frustrated by people who get results easily. Since he sees himself as a considerate and logical thinker, he can get defensive if questioned, but rather than get into confrontations he prefers to withdraw and mind his own business.

Of course, he’s mostly aware of his own shortcomings, and doesn’t actually hold himself in that high regard. In fact, most of his sense of worth comes from what he can do for others. He’s certainly not one to give vent to his pains and conflicts, believing that people might see him as weak and unreliable. As such, the image of an earnest, modest hard worker holds firm, even if he’s seemed much more tired, anxious, and sunken for a long time now.

Bio: The son of the Dutchman Rutger Rynzburger and Mexican mother Fernanda Suárez in Barclay, Barney learned two things from a tender age. One was that his family was poor, not disastrously so, but enough that things were always shaky and in question. The other was the value of hard work. His parents had tough lives of their own, and after doing their best for a long time they wanted to make sure that their children would have better lives than they. It was a challenging, unkind world, but the good life their faith promised ( and all the comfort, wealth, and companionship it entailed) could be earned through one’s blood, sweat, and tears--that was what Cassie, Leanne, and Barney came to believe. They were taught to put others’ needs first, be responsible and capable, and to do what they were told. Even if hardship weighed down upon them, the pressure would forge them into diamonds in the rough, and one day everything they desired would be theirs.

That meant going to college, but by the time the siblings got out of high school at the age of eighteen, there wasn’t anywhere near enough money to put the three of them through school. To make matters worse, their struggling parents were in contention; eighteen had been the agreed-on age at which they’d turn their children loose, but while Barney’s dad saw the state of things and wanted to keep trying to help their children, however hard that might be, his mom had been dying to be relieved of the burden and told him they couldn’t. In the end the two split up, with the divorce turning messy, and suddenly it was everyone for themselves.

The siblings entered the workforce to gain experience and money, and quickly found out just how heavy the weight of the world could be. Finding work was hard enough, but when one entry-level job proved itself insufficient, and all three were forced to seek extra employment just to figure out living situations. They kept in contact as they struggled for two years to make ends meet, without a lot of time for socialization or recreation. Eventually, Cassie found a way out in the form of a well-to-do young man looking for love, and after angrily pushing away her siblings for their disapproval, she quickly got with him. Another year of working and saving passed before Leanne abruptly seemed to drop off the face of the earth, after which Barney got calls from his parents within the span of a week. His mom was in debt and badly needed his help, which Barney could scarcely decline. His dad, meanwhile, had started up a new business that was sure hit, and asked him for a little investment. Hesitant but knowing the right thing to do to save his family, Barney shelved his plans of finally going to college for now and helped out as much as he could.

Some time later, Barney learned through his mom something that happened to Cassie. She’d been hospitalized, supposedly by falling down some stairs, although everyone involved had their own ideas about what happened. Her oddly nonchalant boyfriend said that he couldn’t foot the medical bills, and with nobody else able to pick up the slack, Barney lent his aid. At this point he was twenty-four, and though things weren’t pretty he realized he would probably never have a chance at college if he didn’t go now. In fact, he reasoned that it might help him out, serving as a sort of escape from his previous situation that might encourage the others to try and get money elsewhere. Going into debt was a desperate move, and it didn’t pay off. When the school year began, the twenty-four-year-old freshman realized all too soon that nothing had changed. He still needed to work, he still needed to send his relatives money, and now he had even more on his plate. He had no time. He wasn’t getting anywhere near enough sleep. Thanksgiving break was the first time he felt as if he could even breathe, but those scant few days passed quickly, and as he’s poised to return to school the lungful of air he received makes the sense of impending doom that much worse.

Scars: Barney is being crushed under the weight of responsibility as he struggles to earn the money so many people need from him, but at the end of the day, they’re still family. It would be a death blow to his moral code and reputation to turn his back on them--he would be heartless, selfish, alone and unacceptable. Scum. Time is running down with his principles and wellbeing on the line, begging the question which, if either, will give first.

Shadow

Appearance: Barney’s Shadow is the spitting image of a grand saint, in big white robes trimmed with silver. A crown is inlaid in the klobuk he wears on his head, and the split ends of his majestic cape curl upward behind him. A prison collar of solid silver is clasped around its neck along with the cuffs on his wrists, with the glittering chains wound all around him, worn and displayed proudly.

Personality: The distortion both of the Metaverse and deep within Barney’s own heart have brought forth a Shadow with an egomaniacal savior complex. He sees himself not just as a saint for all the generosity, kindness, and effort he’s given others, but a martyr for being so excessively, self-effacingly benevolent. He glorifies pain and captivity, his own in particular, believing that’s what makes someone a good person--and of course, makes him the best of all, leagues above anyone else. As such he looks down upon others with suffocating condescension while expecting their ceaseless thanks and praise.

Territory: As one travels through the cognitive world called the Metaverse, that shadow-blanketed battlefield of the mind, one might find the desolate, scarred streets and ruins of the warzone giving way to mazelike walls and walkways of white stone and wrought iron, immaculate and fanciful, standing before a skyline blotted not by decrepit skyscrapers but gleaming towers and spires. Proceeding inward across these hallowed grounds, past innumerable little shrines, fountains, spotless silver torture devices, and statues all done up with silks and waxy candles, would bring an inquisitive visitor to the doorstop of the grand Baroque cathedral that stands above it all. There, Shadows gather in supplication, not to an altar, but to a throne, where a locus of distortion has edified himself as their object of worship. Visual aide

Metaverse

Persona Identity: Gregor Samsa
Persona Appearance: Unlike many Personas Samsa is not humanoid--far from it. He is an arthropoidal aberration, a wretched cross of centipede and lobster. His segmented rosy-brown carapace, interspersed by protruding spikes here and there, protects stretched, purple flesh beneath. Six bone-tipped legs extend from its abdomen, accompanied by a pair of sickle arms far more ghoulishly spiked than any earthly mantis. Six sapphire-blue eyes gleam above a mouth of needle-like teeth and a pair of spiked pedipalps. Truly, Gregor Samsa is a monstrous vermin.
Specialty: Physical (Terror, Memory)
Element: Nuclear
Weakness: Curse

Callsign: Creature
Metaverse Appearance: Despite his callsign and the hideous appearance of his Persona, Creature is clothed in the Metaverse with crisp, flowing attire darkly clerical in appearance. A loose dark blue cassock with iron buttons down the front lies over a collared shirt, heavy-duty work pants, and boots. On top is a dark blue greca complete with shoulder cape, along with a matching wide-brimmed hat. The outfit is functional rather than fanciful and lacks ornamentation of any kind save the dog tag around his neck, visible for all to see. Here’s a rough example
Melee Weapon: A wagon wheel, primarily wood but with metal banding. It’s heavy and bulky, but the extra handles attached to it allow one with enough strength to swing it around or punch with it as a brutal melee weapon. In a pinch it also doubles as a shield against anything big enough to not pass through the spokes
Ranged Weapon: A Flamethrower that funnels a spread of vivid blue Nuclear-aspected ‘fire’. His default is a ramshackle model of twisted steel pipes

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Roster - 7/10

• Cawler, Vincent - the Tower
• Harrington, Caelum - Death
• Ifriti, Jin - Strength
• Moore, Harriette - the Empress
• Rynsburger, Barney - the Chariot
• Sanford, Alina - Wheel of Fortune
• Waller, Nick - the Hermit

People of Interest

• Corse, Mel - The de facto leader of the band called The Spark. His large figure matches his aggressive personality, always using his loud voice to get involved and shut down arguments in his group as more of a domination move than actually trying to calm them down. No matter the reason, he couldn't keep dead weight around, so Dakota had to go. He'd much rather push forward than let the group stagnate waiting on a lost cause
• Davik, Micki - The drummer of the band called The Spark. He's a happy-go-lucky sort of person glad to be following his passions with people he can get along with. He puts trust in Mel mainly because he has no understanding of the business outside of playing, and feels it's best that way. He took Dakota's absence fairly well, but the situation was concerning from a friend's perspective. While he hasn't forgotten his former bandmate by any means, he's pushed on and continued performances without missing a beat
• Deonte, Javon - the bassist of the band called The Spark. 23 years old, and probably the more level-headed out of the group. He simply plays because he loves to do so, and though he loves the crowds, he's not really in it for popularity. Preferring to stay behind the scenes and just play, he remains quiet in general conversation aside from with his bandmates. He deeply respected Dakota's passion but thought it was for the best he took it easy.
• Ferrigno, Lucas - The second son of Barclay's premier real estate magnate, Luciano Ferrigno, and a decent businessman in his own right. Superficial in an oddly sincere way, he possesses an insatiable, devil-may-care sort of charisma that along with his status makes him popular with the ladies, and the penniless Cassie Rynsburger was no exception. Nobody in his circle would say he treats his ladies anything other than spectacularly, least of all Cassie herself, hospitalization notwithstanding
• Ford, Leonard - Mila’s older brother by three years. Why not fresh meat anymore, he is still low ranking at the police department. He is currently under evaluation for a possible transfer into the K-9 Unit. He’s received a lot of flak for being related to a ‘felon’ but keeps his mouth shut about it. He has faith in his sister. He, along with the rest of the family, are concerned by her not showing up for Thanksgiving
• García, Camila - Officer García is Mila’s parole officer. She is a Hispanic American of age forty-three. A no nonsense kind of gal but if you prove you can be trusted she’ll cut ya some slack. She’s a hard worker and takes her job extremely serious. She devotes her best to help each of her parolees. If she learns you’ve lied to her though it’s almost impossible to win back her trust. To her, lying about backsliding from your progress is worse than the actual act
• Harrington, Davon - Caelum’s father, and Director of a successful banking company. Similar enough to Caelum that even strangers may recognize their relationship if comparing the son to a picture of the father, Davon is known for his piercing blue-eyes, stern manner, and regal bearing. He is competent, perhaps overly-serious, but he has managed to keep his public image impeccable. If one were to demand ‘show me one honest businessman’, those who know of him would likely point to Davon
• Harte, Mary - Child of a family with enough assets to put her through college without debt, Mary is tall, blonde, and the sort of person who can befriend anybody. Her high energy is put to great use in both sports and study as well as with her friends, and one might consider her somewhat gifted from an outside perspective. In private, she also bears an affinity for pornographic visual novels; so far, she has shared this with Alina alone
• Hue, Miranda - Mel's choice for Dakota's replacement as a vocalist. The transition from a male to female singer was jarring only for a short period of time, Miranda making it clear she had the charm and appearance to keep the crowd entranced, without mention of her wonderful singing voice. Her immense pride and concern of her self-worth shines above the other portions of her personality, despite being able to put on a pretty face
• Rynsburger, Cassie - Barney's sister, although you'd never know it from a side by side comparison given the darker complexion and bombastic spirit she got from their mother. She managed to escape the rat race by finding a wealthy boyfriend, but though she never complained of anything, she eventually ended up in the hospital with injuries her partner quickly explained away
• York, Selena - An older woman arrested decades ago for murder who was at the same prison as Mila. Miss York was essentially Mila’s saving grace. The woman has a habit of looking after the young people who get sent to her prison. Especially if they seem completely new to this world. She is well respected there and seems to have a special connection with Mila stating she understands Mila’s situation. Mila actively has correspondence with Miss York and recently applied to be put on the inmate visitation list for Miss York

Places of Interest - Real World

• Barclay Police Department - Situated on a peninsula that reaches out into the bay in the middle of the public beach area, the police department looks a lot more like a resort at first glance, with only a couple patrol cars to its name, although that belies a state-of-the-art interior. Still, it can't be denied that its management has done a lot to give it a remarkable public image. The BPD itself cares for the nearby beaches and their facilities. With the city's help it sponsors barbeques, Game Trucks, and even the occasional fair. With its mission statement to put people first and its motto 'Looking out for folks', the BPD prides itself on friendly and understanding officers who don't take things too seriously. That said, there never seems to be a slow day for the department itself, with lots of foot traffic in and out of the place on any given day. The police commissioner is Maurice McCord
• Barclay Waterfront University - The city's de-facto college and one of the most well-known in the whole region. It's huge, with an appropriately massive student body, and though its students and courses run the gamut it has quite the prestigious upper echelon. Its colleges of natural science, engineering, literature, and software are of special note, but its no slouch in the sports department either, with a football team that boasts national acclaim and a rowing team whose boats can be spotted out in the bay all year long. Guest speakers, orchestral performances, and plays are a common occurrence in its grand auditorium, and the luxurious student center in the middle of campus provides a place where all can socialize and relax. On-campus dormitories provide housing for those attending, and though they're the budget option not often favored by well-to-do students, they're perfectly fine as accommodations. Its president is Myron Pondwater
• Brights Dive Bar - A small bar with a rough exterior but well-furnished and clean on the inside. It's not exactly fit for attracting large crowds but instead just local clientele, serving a very basic line of drinks and usually having open mic or karaoke during the evenings. You really can't go wrong with the place if you're looking for a simple time without a lot of hassle, as long as you aren't looking to cause trouble yourself, that is. Most of the folks are older, people who've lived near the bar for a chunk of their life. They usually don't expect many new folks, aside from the occasional kid who just became of-age and was looking for their first real drinking experience. A small group of regulars are actually not there for drinks at all: Instead, they take up the karaoke hours or open mic for whatever they can come up with. The worst you'll usually get is a look of uncertainty as a newcomer, but that can be enough when you're alone. Having another regular with you can usually get folks off your back, unless they are troublesome in their own right
• Right Rest Inn - a rather shabby motel in a less-than-savory part of town, although its position relatively close to the waterfront makes it a little more expensive than you would expect just looking at it. Its a transitory place of impermanence where the people would only ever end up out of necessity, more often than not pushing it out of their minds. That tendency to be ignored, however, also makes it a common refuge for criminal elements. Its kept afloat by the efforts of the manager Paula Martine, both in terms of cutting costs and aggressively squeezing what tenants do wash up on her shore
• Waterfront Hillside Home - a pleasant retirement / assisted living home situated on the northern reaches of the city along the coast, where an upturn in terrain thins out the packed cityscape enough for the structure to exist in comfortable isolation. Cozy and cheery cheery with its seaside decor, complete with an aquarium and coral-themed hanging gardens, it provides a place of peace for the well-to-do elderly to while away their time, warming themselves on the expansive outdoor decks while listening to the rhythm of waves down below. It is partially financed by the city of Barclay itself, which makes its charges low enough that even old folks of more modest means can enjoy their twilight years by the seaside

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Nick Waller

Name: Nick Waller

Age: 21

Arcana: The Hermit

Appearance: Nick is a lithe young man, standing at about 5’6” and weighing 135-ish pounds. His muscles are tight and lean, hardly noticeable save for on his legs, where his running has built him noticeable calves and thighs. His face is round and baby-ish, hidden beneath a perpetual 5 o’clock shadow kept specifically to hide that baby face.

His hair is kept simple, a light brown never allowed to grow longer than an inch, and otherwise unstyled. His skin is ever-so-lightly tanned but definitely not what one would call remotely dark, despite the Texas sun.

Clothing-wise, during Nick can typically be found in his favorite jacket, a tan American Eagle No. 01977 with faux fur lining. Warm, durable, and waterproof enough, Nick actually liked this jacket enough to get a second one, and he swaps them out every once in a while to keep them in good shape. Underneath he wears t-shirts, and only t-shirts, typically with some graphic design, or a comedic or irreverent phrase written on it. He favors cargo pants and rarely wears jeans, though on some days he will wear a pair of chinos if he’s feeling fancy. His legwear is typically neutral or earth-tone, to match with the tan jacket. Finishing his standard outfit is a pair of well-worn but good still fairly decent black sneakers.

Nick rarely accessorizes, save for his plain olive green backpack, which hardly counts in his opinion.

Personality: Nick is, to the casual observer, a man with two fronts: At times, he is bombastic, loud, comedic, talkative, irreverent, and very open about what he thinks. But he can also be quiet, withdrawn, introspective and even downright isolationist. It’s earned him few friends at Barclay Waterfront University, and Nick seems content with that, rarely branching out and trying to meet new people.

Which Nick you see depends on the context. In classroom discussions, he’s often very eager to speak his mind, especially when it comes to topics he feels people are often mislead or blissfully ignorant about. He has a genuine thirst for knowledge and understanding, and is more than happy to let others explain things to him if he doesn’t know something.

Left to his own devises, Nick tends to withdraw into himself, finding entertainment in his phone via videos on Youtube, browsing reddit, or chatting with people via Discord. Unbothered, he can remain like this for hours on end, more than happy to isolate and ignore the world around him in favor of mindless stimulation.

With friends or those he trusts, a blending of these two extremes is found. Irreverent and nihilistic humor, memespeak, openness, tempered by periods of content silence, browsing the internet to the backdrop of his friends’ conversations, or sharing content with those around him. He’s never quite as loud, or withdrawn and introspective, around his friends, even if everybody is quiet.

Underneath everything, though, is a reservoir of anger that rarely stops bubbling, ready to be set off at the thought of injustice or unfairness. It’s not uncommon for his bombastic rants to be underlaid with a genuine note of anger, or his dry humor to hide genuine disdain, though he does his best to hide this ugly side from others, and even himself.

And to those with a more discerning eye, they can notice the little things Nick hides. The way he flinches, but only for the briefest of moments, and loud noises or unexpected touch. The way he has to center himself before going off on a rant. The slow breaths he takes when somebody explains something that he already knows, thank you very much.

There’s more to him than those two fronts. And what little he lets slip doesn’t paint a good picture.

Bio: Raised by parents who never seemed to be quite proud of him, Nick always felt that he played second (or even third) fiddle to his brothers. This caused him to overvalue the talent he did have in his mind. Able to, generally speaking, absorb knowledge easily and lock it in like a steel trap, Nick always had little trouble in his schooling, and what praise he did receive for his good grades was kept and treasured like it was made of gold.

As he grew older, he learned more about his family’s flaws. The unresolved anger issues that pervaded them like a virus, the general character flaws that made his parents seem less like goals to emulate, and more like warnings to avoid. He learned how to hide his disappointment, how to vent his pain and frustrations, though not in a healthy manner.

Nick would tell you that, in high school, things changed. He wouldn’t tell you how. He wouldn’t tell you why. All he’d tell you is that that is when things changed.

What little trust in others and self-confidence he had broken, Nick tried to double down on what he felt he had, and threw himself into his schoolwork to the neglect of much else. It kept him away from his parents, his brothers, his “friends”, it let him just be alone, where he felt more comfortable. And the results showed. Nick’s grades, somehow, raised, and he took more and more challenging classes, read ahead of the assigned work, and generally stood out as a well-behaved, intelligent young man.

And finally, college came, and Nick was free. Free to stay in bed until 2 PM on Saturday once in a while. Free to avoid the constant fake questions from his family. Free from the constant pressure he felt to perform to their standards. And despite how he let go of some the higher standards he placed on himself, Nick thrived without his family putting stress on him constantly. He let himself speak out more, took (generally) better care of himself, and found a schedule that worked for him.

Yet, despite this freedom, despite this respite from the past, Nick hasn’t been able to shake the ghosts that haunt him. His first real relationship fell apart a scant few months ago, an ugly, explosive break up that came from months of suppressed frustration and disappointment from his girlfriend, leaving Nick reeling and wondering what about him it is that just isn’t good enough.

Be wary, for you are about to trawl the depths of mankind’s darkness. Turn back if you are not ready. Content Warning for Sexual Assault/Rape and Self-harm.

Scars:
Diagnosis: Major Depressive Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. “Self-harm wounds evident on left and right shoulders” “Scars on back and thighs not from self-harm, incidental stretch marks from puberty growth spurts. Large burn on back from birth complications and hospital mismanagement. Nick stresses these distinctions. Nonetheless, they cause readily apparent self-image problems” “Sexual trauma has resulted in self-imposed isolation and distrust of others, regardless of gender” “Possible familial abuse? Nick rarely speaks of his family, has not seen them in years, and rarely if ever has positive things to say on the subject” “Relationship history brings Nick great pain to discuss” “Avoid casually asking about girlfriends/boyfriends as a topic of conversation” “Sexual repression and repression of bisexuality likely result of assault” “Generally feels safest alone” “More comfortable in virtual spaces than physically with others”

The profile Nick’s psychologist has on him is…extensive and disturbing to the unprepared reader. It is the story of a young man who has never felt truly appreciated for long, who has found every sanctuary and safe haven ripped away from him.

Nick’s trauma runs deep, and it, in part, has changed him. It has left him feeling unsafe in all but isolation, it has left him afraid of trusting others, and it has turned him against even himself.

Physically, Nick’s scars are much less haunting than meets the eye. His lower back and hips are littered with horizontal stretch marks, which, after a few minor incidents, have resulted in worsening problems with his self-image. On his back, over his heart lies a fist-sized burn scar from a minor medical mishap with a UV lamp and a newborn Nick that left no actual long-term complications.

His shoulders tell a different story. See, Nick is “clever”, and figured he’d cut where people wouldn’t stereotypically think to check underneath a shirt. The wrists were too obvious and the thighs had too many major blood vessels to risk. So, with a guide on human anatomy, he figure that his shoulder would be a good spot to just let out a little stress without risking severing a major artery. Whether it was a good idea isn’t really relevant, because it worked.

Psychologically, Nick’s scars can be attributed to several primary events which resulted in his cynical outlook on the world and interpersonal relationships.

When Nick was 7, his father first insulted him for crying when his parents fought, starting the cracks in their bond as family.

When Nick was 15, his “friends” raped him at a party. Later that year, he realized he was bisexual, but couldn’t stomach the thought of another man touching him outside of a fantasy.

When Nick was 16, he began cutting as a way to relieve the pain he was hiding.

When Nick was 18, he left home and decided that if he could help it, he would never go back.

Nick is from Oklahoma, and he hasn’t left Texas since he started at Barclay Waterfront University. He hasn’t seen his family in over three years. And frankly? That’s just fine with him. The way he sees it, they were just the start of his pain.

@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

That's a very solid application. For now the only advice I could give would be to see if you could transition some weight from his Scars section to his Bio section, since Bio is more for telling the story and Scars for summing up. Still, well done.

In other news, I'm opening the OOC. The interest from those who've applied plus those who haven't posted in this thread promises a good if not immediate start. @Potemking @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN @Yankee @SilverPaw, if so inclined you can find the link to the thread here: https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/186167-persona-soldiers-of-fortune/ooc

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

There are almost eight billion people on this planet, but though one sky hangs over them all, the world each person lives in is not the same. Each person’s world is small, but infinitely complex. It is built up by one’s nature, upbringing, principles, beliefs, and by those who give it joy and meaning. On the other hand, so too is it built by one’s needs, fears, responsibilities, scars, mistakes, and by those who, through malice or inaction, work to tear it down. Every action sends tremors through countless worlds, some so strong that it is all many can do to merely survive. How then could anyone, alone in their own small world, understand someone else’s? See their value? Know their true face? And who would be willing to fight to keep your one world alive, except you?

But you are not alone. Never have been. Fear and pain may weigh you down, and you may suffer under the unfairness of life, but despite everything you’re still human. Even at rock bottom you can still climb back up. Within you is the power to change--to fight, maybe not for the world, but for your one world.

Things cannot continue as they are. If you understand what needs to be done, then call my name.

Foreward

My goal is to make not just a Persona RP, but an excellent one, rallying together earnest writers to craft something special. The story’s central themes are suppression (suffering, confinement, the inability to act) versus liberation, the endowment of the freedom to enact one’s will and pursue one’s world.

To that end, everyone will play as characters whose are suffering to some degree, people whose lives are no longer their own. Not good or bad people, just people, trying (and maybe failing) to make the best of things. But things aren’t good. This could be due to poverty, illness, bad relationships, punishment, victimization, overworking, guilt, unbearable responsibility, you name it. Society has driven you into the prison of your mind, and the boiling point is not too far awy.

But there is hope. On a fateful day, the skyfall incident occurs. A handful of people find themselves thrust into the surreal, distorted world of the collective consciousness: the Metaverse. There they must confront the Shadows that are their suppressed inner selves, or perish. Those who are able to accept themselves and realize that things must change will gain a Persona--a mask with which they can face hardship and accomplish great things.

From there begins the campaign. These Soldiers of Fortune, freed from their shackles and armed with the power to change things, can then fight through the trenches of the human psyche to topple the depotism of the Warlords and restore the freedom of the masses.

This RP will take place in Barclay, Texas, in the United States. It is a sprawling metropolis near the Gulf of Mexico, a regional melting pot filled with just about everything humanity has to offer. The PCs must be 18 minimum, and will coalesce at the Barclay Waterfront University, although they can be employees or people there by chance. It is November 29th, and Thanksgiving Break just ended.

The Other Self

I am thou...Thou art I

Personas are spiritual manifestations of one’s personality, awakened by one’s resolution in the face of hardship. They symbolize the resolve to overcome challenges and fight for one's world. Awakenings can take two forms depending on the primary source of your character's conflict: internal or external. An internal conflict will result in an awakening by Shadow, and an external conflict will result in an awakening by Warlord. Either way, the experience will result in your character gaining a Persona

Renewal - Awakening by Shadow

Shadows are the lower parts of the psyche everyone has... Suppressed human thoughts given physical form. When people are unable to face their darker selves, they break loose, free from all control. But sometimes, humans with special awareness can tame their Shadows…

While in the Metaverse, those who are their own worst enemies will inevitably face themselves, sooner or later. You’ll find yourself in the Territory of your Shadow, a small area converted by your Shadow’s distortion. There you’ll meet the dark part of yourself, an exaggerated reflection that is the culmination of your misery, failure, self-destruction, or delusion, trying to assert itself, unable to be ignored. However that interaction goes, it will ultimately force a singular question: can you accept it? If you cannot face and accept the ugliness within yourself, the Shadow will go berserk and transform into a monstrosity and attack.

If you’re overcome, you’ll emerge from the Metaverse changed. With your will broken, your cruel self will be unfettered and free to do whatever dark deeds you wish in the real world, while your Shadow will remain in the Metaverse as a Warlord. However, if you have the will to survive and overcome, you may take up arms and fight back. If your ego can master your shadow by defeating or accepting it, it will pronounce a contract that assures your resolve, and transform once again into a Persona.

Rebellion - Awakening by Warlord

Personas are, in other words, a "mask"—an armor of the heart when confronting worldly matters

A Warlord is the Shadow of someone who has gained some form of power, pride, or success in the real world as a result of pain and suffering inflicted on others. In the Metaverse, their Shadow takes on an appearance formed by the person’s conception of power, and wields weaponry that symbolizes their will to inflict harm on others.

The wounds inflicted by a tormentor leave scars even after they heal, and these scars serve as a sort of mark or branding--proof that one has power over another, and that another has been wronged by the one. And in the Metaverse, one who’s been branded in such a manner can be found by their tormentor again. Warlords are drawn to those who’ve fallen through the cracks bearing scars inflicted by their real selves, and will seek out their prey to finish the job.

When confronted by a Warlord, you’ll invariably end up in dire straights. Their strength, weaponry, terrain knowledge are all superior, not to mention any Shadows in their service. Whether through taunts, torture, or other psychological or physical abuses the Warlord will jeopardize your life, and during these emotional episodes you’ll be pushed to the brink. Will you allow the Warlord to destroy you, or will you take revenge? If you choose to rebel, your Shadow will call out to you.

A piercing agony will fill your heart, wracking your whole body with pain as all else fades. Your Shadow will continue to speak, questioning your situation and testing your resolve. If in that moment you can find your resolve, you can call it by name, pull it from your chest, and crush it in your hand to formalize the contract. Doing so will manifest both your weapon of choice and your Persona, allowing you to fight for yourself.

The collective hearts of humanity, known also as the sea of souls, houses the whole of civilization’s archetypal stories. Personas take the form of people, monsters, and in general beings from mythology, folklore, tradition, legend, and famous literary works. For this RP, I have a couple notes:

• The chosen Persona should have an obvious relation to the story of your character
• Your Persona will also have one of the Major Arcana of the tarot deck
• If you choose a literary character, it should be one of both age and cultural significance
• Your character’s Persona can’t start out as a god/goddess
• Persona evolution is an option later on down the line
• We won’t be going into stats, but your Persona will get attributes: a Specialty, an Element (against which it’ll also have a resistance), and a Weakness to allocate as you please that will affect performance
• Since Personas are a mask to face hardship, Persona users will change outfit while in the Metaverse after awakening

Personas are pretty necessary for fighting in the Metaverse. Discarded weapons litter the place, but they alone won't be enough for an ordinary human. Personas are typically incorporeal but can attack physically and in some cases support the weight of the user, but they can't all, say, just pick you up and float into the sky to fly you around. Using them tires you out. Awakening to one will exhaust you soon after the awakening. In this setting, your Persona can speak with you to give information, support, or just companionship.

All Personas can attack with physical or gun skills proved they have the weapons to do so, although ones with a melee or ranged specialty will enjoy stronger and more special attack skills. Essentially, your choice of both Specialty and Element affect what skills and magic your Persona both starts with and can gain. Skills hurt the user when performed, and spells cost mana; if your Persona is more physical or magical, you'll have more health or magic to work with. With most spell progression, you'll learn a spell followed by its wide-area version before the next strongest spell

Skill List

Element

• Fire: Agi -> Maragi -> Agilao -> Maragion -> Agidyne -> Maragidyne -> Inferno -> Blazing Hell
• Ice: Bufu -> Mabufu -> Bufula -> Mabufula -> Bufudyne -> Mabufudyne -> Diamond Dust -> Ice Age
• Elec: Zio -> Mazio -> Zionga -> Mazionga -> Ziodyne -> Maziodyne -> Thunderclap -> Raging Storm
• Wind: Garu -> Magaru -> Garula -> Magarula -> Garudyne -> Magarudyne -> Vacuum Wave -> Galeforce
• Nuclear: Frei -> Mafrei -> Freila -> Mafreila -> Freidyne -> Mafreidyne -> Meltdown -> Cosmic Flare
• Psychokinesis: Psi -> Mapsi -> Psio -> Mapsio -> Psiodyne -> Mapsiodyne -> Hysteria -> Psycho Blast
• Bless: Kouha -> Makouha -> Kouga -> Makouga -> Kougaon -> Makougaon -> Hosanna -> God Ray
• Curse: Eiha -> Maeiha -> Eiga -> Maeiga -> Eigaon -> Maeigaon -> Blasphemy -> Evil Incarnate

Specialty

• Melee & Ranged: You have more health, and choose two modifers you can apply to your attack skills for added effects. Choices are Dormin (Sleep), Terror (Fear), Memory (Forget), Flash (Dizzy), Abysmal (Despair), Marin (Brainwash), Skull (Confuse), Taunt (Rage), Hungry (Lifedrain), Hollow (Spiritdrain), and Lucky (Critical)
• Magic: You have more spirit, and your spells can either inflict an ailment or deal extra damage to those inflicted by them, called a Tech. Fire inflicts Burn. Ice inflicts Freeze. Elec inflicts Shock. Wind Techs with Burn, Dizzy, and Sleep. Nuclear Techs with Burn, Shock, and Freeze. Psy Techs with Confuse, Fear, Despair, Rage, and Brainwash. Bless & Curse have access to spells that have a chance to instantly kill targets depending on several factors:
  Hama -> Mahama -> Hamaon -> Mahamaon -> Divine Visage (Bless)
  Mudo -> Mamudo -> Mudoon -> Mamudoon -> Megadeath (Curse)
• Support: Healing (Dia), cure (Amrita), and revival (Recarm) skills. Better skills heal more:
  Dia -> Amrita -> Media -> Recarm -> Diarama -> Meamrita -> Mediarama -> Diarahan -> Samarecarm
• Protection: Spells of your own element heal you, gain Enduring Soul (avoid one fatal blow per fight) and defensive skills. Rakukaja (defense up) -> Fortify (increase ailment resistance) -> Wall (shield against one element) -> Dekaja (null enemy buffs) -> Marakukaja (party defense up) -> Makarakarn + Tetrakarn (spell and attack counters)

To Whom it May Concern

So, the elephant in the room. Most Persona RPs die before anything Persona actually happens, maybe because like some of the games, they take a bit to get going. However, I’m confident that should we get enough people who actually want to write to get off the ground, that won’t happen. If people wanted to write by themselves they wouldn’t need an RP to do it; the point of a GM is to take the players on an adventure. Here’s the plan.

How this works

• The general plan for posting is at least once a week. It’s not necessarily a requirement, but if you miss a couple weeks we’re probably going to be in contact. If anything happens that would stop you from posting for a time, just let me know and we’re right as rain. Communication is key
• If you can’t see yourself posting at least once a week (bar extenuating circumstances) for the foreseeable future (multiple years even) don’t apply. This is less of an OC show and tell and more of a commitment
• I’m not going to make the people who do want to play, write, and tell their stories wait on people who don’t post. When I post my weekly update, world progress will happen. Time will move forward even if some characters stand still. If your character is in a dangerous situation and doesn’t act, they may take damage or otherwise suffer for it. Not much, generally, but it’s still not a good idea to leave your character hanging
• ’He who desires but acts not breeds pestilence’ - ultimately, being in an RP means posting. Whether or not you give reassurances if your intention to post, if you can’t post with reasonable consistency, we’ll need to face reality sooner or later
• You have some creative freedom to make and influence the stuff around you. For instance, if you were to walk into a classroom, you could describe the students around you, their names and appearances and what they’re doing, maybe even make up some prior experiences or encounters your character remembers. You can describe portions of the world, be it a favorite coffee shop of your character’s out in the city somewhere, or an area of distortion in the Metaverse. Controlling notable enemies isn’t allowed without permission, but you can have some fun with fodder. Above all, just ask. I’m always glad to answer any questions about if or how you can do this or that
• If you’re going to put your character’s dialog in a color, please make it readable on the guild’s background
• I’m open to talking about most anything anytime. If it seems like I got something wrong or could do something better, or if it seems like I forgot something, please don’t hesitate to let me know

For the character sheet, something I think would be fun would be to keep our characters’ Personas hidden until they awaken IC. So, you’ll complete the entire sheet and PM the final version to me for approval, but when you post it in the Characters tab you’ll leave out the Metaverse section until your awakening, at which point you can edit it back in. Plan around which awakening you want as well, based on whether your character’s core conflict is more internal or external. Stuff is first come first served and will on be 'yours' when your character is accepted

Of course, you’re welcome to put your WIPs in the OOC and discuss Personas, attributes, and Arcana.

Contract

Humanity

Name:
Age: (18 minimum)
Arcana: (Find one thematically appropriate for your character. Discuss with others to avoid overlap)
Appearance: (Images in a hider alright. Accompanying text appreciated)
Personality:
Bio: (No need for every tiny detail. Include important events that made your character who he or she is now, and your character’s recent past leading up to the current (not good) situation)
Scars: (A summary of the source of your characters trauma/suffering, which will be the core conflict that plays into your awakening)

Shadow

(If your character’s conflict is more internal than external, their Awakening will involve facing their own Shadow, so keep this section. Otherwise, remove this section)

Appearance: (A Shadow’s appearance reflects its distortions. They clothe themselves in security and power, however that may manifest. When driven berserk by the person’s refused acceptance, Shadows transform monstrously, so include that appearance here, too)
Personality: (The Shadow is the dark parts of the psyche, the thoughts and feelings that people keep hidden from everyone, even themselves. Their traits are often exaggerated)
Territory: (The distortion of a powerful Shadow can warp the Metaverse in their vicinity. This domain is tailored to suit the Shadow’s aesthetic, which you can describe here)

Metaverse

Persona Identity:
Persona Appearance: (Even the most human identities are rendered fantastical by the imagination)
Specialty: (Either Melee, Ranged, Magic, Support, or Protection)
Element: (Either Physical, Projectile, Fire, Ice, Elec, Wind, Nuclear, Psy, Bless, or Curse)
Weakness: (Doesn't need to be stereotyped--for instance, yours doesn't need to be Fire if your Element is Ice)

Callsign: (The name under which your character will operate as a Soldier of Fortune)
Metaverse Appearance: (The new outfit is a manifestation of your character’s will to fight, so it is essentially battle attire. Minor appearance changes can accompany the outfit if you like. No mask required, but you will get a tailor-made Dog Tag listing your callsign and Persona)
Melee Weapon:
Ranged Weapon:
(For both weapons, feel free to describe more about what they are and can do and even provide images of the starting weapons. Down the line you may get upgrades/replacements of the same weapon type)

If your character route is Rebellion, you'll need a Warlord too. You can either work with me to have your backstory play into one of mine, or make your own.

Warlord

Name:
Distortion: (The theme/aesthetic that ties together your Warlord's appearance, territory, minion shadows, and so forth)
Weaponry: (The Warlord's weapons of choice, symbolizing their will to harm others for their own gain)
Appearance: (The Warlord's appearance stems from their conception of someone with strength or power, which they obviously see themselves as)
Personality: (The Warlord's personality is an exaggeration of the person's true personality, one emphasizing their traits)
Territory: (The area of the Metaverse that has been twisted by your Warlord's influence. It can be big or small depending on how impactful the person is in the real world, but somewhere in it is the Stronghold, the Warlord's heavily guarded base. There's a War Room somewhere that sheds some light on the Warlord's activities in the real world and a highly fortified Bunker that contains personal secrets about the Warlord's real self, possibly the source of that person's distortion)
Shadows: (Up to twelve Shadows, either canon or custom, can serve the Warlord. For convenience please provide their primary element and weakness. Including images is optional. A good format would be something like: Jack Frost (Ice/Fire))

Spoilers

Persona: (Anyone who gains the resolve to fight for their one world, for better or worse, can gain a Persona, which includes Warlords. Choose an appropriate Persona for the Warlord to wield. This Persona will have an element and such attributes too)
Fusion: (In this RP there's no wild card, so Persona Fusion takes on an entirely different meaning. Every Warlord has a powerful boss form similar to the berserk state of Shadows, accessed by fusing with their own Persona in times of need. This boss form's appearance takes elements from their Shadow appearance and their Persona's. Doing so also confers a new 'ascended' name, which doesn't need to be related to the Persona, that epitomizes the relationship of character and Warlord. For example, 'Suguru Asmodeus Kamoshida'

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