Avatar of Maxx
  • Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
  • Joined: 12 yrs ago
  • Posts: 978 (0.23 / day)
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  • Username history
    1. Maxx 12 yrs ago
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Status

Recent Statuses

5 yrs ago
Current I'm bringing Dragon Cave back and no one can stop me.
6 yrs ago
MEEP
1 like
9 yrs ago
I am back into this shit, I guess. Say hello if you'd like.
9 yrs ago
I am one with the force and the force is with me.
1 like
10 yrs ago
I have suddenly become deeply troubled.

Bio

"That's why we must eat the old people first. They can't have that kind of power."


I've been roleplaying for six years, and if I do say so myself I've gotten pretty good. I've been to many roleplay sites around the internet, and for right now I'm happy calling this one home. I write fantasy, high science fiction, and poetry. I'm involved in the Nerdfighteria community as well, making the world suck a little bit less one day at a time. Though sometimes it's rough and incredibly time-consuming, roleplaying has brought me some of my closest friends, some of the most genuinely awesome people I've ever met. This train is still going, and there's no stop in sight! DFTBA.

The Disappointment Club:


"What the fuck did I just read"


We're special-ed special forces, the most exclusive internet club that no one wants to join, and the most thoroughly disappointing group of individuals the world has ever seen (we even disappoint when it comes to disappointing). Together, we're quite possibly the best six friends the internet has know.

- @Junkmail : Living Proof That God is Dead.
- @He Who Walks Behind : I still won't forgive him for what he did to that starfish.
- @Dragonbud : Her Gregory Cosplay is fire.
- @Surtr : I think he's still trying to pimp me... Help.
- @Spoopy Scary : He's Greg.

List of Super-Power Pet Peeves:

-Shadow Powers
-Blood Powers
-Pain Powers
-"Dimensional Storage" Powers
-Spider Powers

Most Recent Posts

City Of Gold

Mendel, Louisiana. November 13, 2014

11:30 PM
Blood stains splattered on the grey pavement. Cracked bricks and claw marks litter the alley, and there is a sizeable dent in the side of a green dumpster; it too is stained with blood. The night is warm, but there is a thin layer of frost clinging to one of the walls. Pools of oil float over the wet, asphalt ground, where some parts contain still-melting floes of ice. Near the end of the alley, kneeling beside a row of disemboweled trash cans, is John Frost. He is panting heavily, and hugging his torso. His clothes are badly torn, and a massive gash across the left side of his head is leaking dark, thick blood. So is a trio of gashes across the left side of his torso. His white tee shirt is now dyed a deep crimson. He feels at least two broken ribs, but fears his assailant isn’t yet finished with him. A primal, deep and wild panting emanates from the alley, like that of a voracious wolf, and with it brings on the beating of his heart to a race. He sees nothing, as if the ravager is completely concealed in the alley’s shroud.
Slowly he rises to his feet, still clutching the wounds on his side. He sees nothing; his sole sensory reception from his assailant is that incessant panting of a starving beast.. His grip tightens, and the bleeding on his side freezes. His clothes slowly cover with frost, spreading from his hands. His mind is a fluster of chaos, a chorus of screams. For every one thought or urge, there is another two, and each competes for control until there is one thought that dominates all of the others:

Run.

John staggers backwards, reverting to old childhood teachings, trying to move as slowly as possible and make no sudden moves. Isn’t that what stops animals from attacking? No sudden movements? This wasn’t any normal animal, though. John took off down the alley, hoping to escape into the light and get help. The panting intensifies into an animalistic snarl, and the sound of claws scratching across the pavement echoes along the frost-covered walls in pursuit of John, whose hands and feet are cold now as the fight-or-flight responses kick in. As his brain vividly alive when it floods with adrenaline, he becomes eerily aware of every sound; the scratching, the growls, the blaring of the car horns on the crowded street at the end of the alley. The scratching is approaching too quickly; he can’t escape. John is about ten feet from the end of the alley when finally he wheels around and screams, “WHO ARE YOU?!” A massive blast of frost explodes from his outstretched hands, and the entire alley is covered in two inches of frost. Icicles explode violently from the walls, creating a spiked corridor. The ice on the ground turns into a layer of jagged rock-like constructs. A circle of icicle palisades surround John, keeping anything from getting too close. His eyes are closed and his hands are covering his head, waiting for impact. The panting has stopped. He looks around cautiously to make sure he is alone. He hears nothing and sees nothing. Slowly his hands come to rest at his sides. He sighs a breath of relief; it’s all over now.
Suddenly, the panting returns. He gasps as claw marks appear in the two inches of frost that cling to the walls. Something is climbing the walls. The scratching of claws is replaced by the crunching of ice. Before he can react, a primordial roar rips through his ear drums, and the hunter’s titanic shadow, illuminated by the light of the moon, is upon him. The ice spears shatter explosively, and John screams. Pain tears through his body as his abdomen is sliced apart, and he is thrown onto his back as the shower of icicles fall. He is dead before he hits the ground.
Police are on the scene ten minutes later. John Frost is found dead, ten feet from rescue. His body is torn to ribbons so viciously that he can no longer be identified. The melted ice and the blood combine into an enormous puddle around his body. Every rib on his left side is shattered, and both of his lungs are punctured. His face is mutilated beyond recognition. The corpse is cold, and frost still clings to his blood-splattered jeans. From high above, the killer watches, admiring its handiwork. Step one of the plan is complete.
About Mendel

The Gangs (In bullet point form!)


Power Classifications

Things to Know About Meta Humans

Rules

Character Sheet


Ok, so just a note here; this is my first rp on this site, and so I haven't quite gotten the hang of things. I will probably screw up somewhere. If I do, please point it out to me.
Hey, is Felix's player still around (I'm bad with names, sorry)?

EDIT: Allen answered my question. Because it is important to a future subplot (and because allen told me I could and it's a cool power) I'm going to have had Jack beat Felix in a card game, so that Jack has Felix's power.
The only thing that makes bones harder without breaking it is the consumption of calcium phosphate over an extremely long time (like, your entire childhood). You cannot train your bones to be stronger. That is 100% impossible. And Wikipedia is a horrible source.
Hiya, homies. Sorry I've been inactive. School and shit.
Double post. So sorry.
Jack

A wicked smile creeped across Jack's face as Shannon suggested messing with Valjean. Everybody in school hated Valjean Vesseal, but nobody had actually told him. In Jean's mind, he was the king of the campus. That was precisely why messing with him was so fun. It would give Jack a chance to showcase his newly-replicated power too; cryomancy. He watched the king of the douchebags roam the cafeteria, stalking his prey. He took a sip of his coffee and upon sitting it down, steepled his hands in front of him, a sign that he was in scheming mode.

"Well it depends, dearest Shannon." Jack replied "How much detail are we willing to put into ruining his day? I have a few tricks that I'd like to try out on some poor, unwitting victim." he ended the sentence sarcastically, and then blew a foggy breath of cold air, despite the fact that the cafeteria was quite warm. A thin layer of ice spread across the table, dissipating before it could reach a place where any other group was sitting. A thin coat of frost enveloped Jack's egg, causing it to sparkle like a ball of ice. He tossed it a few times in the air, and then sat it back down on the plate, partially-angry with himself that he now had two egg shells to peel. Then he remembered that he had ice powers, and so froze the layer of water under the shell, causing the egg shell and the ice shell to both shatter and fall onto his tray.

Sam

Sam had vaguely heard of Black Fall before. It wasn't far from Baltimore, and had a rap for attracting metas. He heard stories before about there being real superheroes there (because I can't help but cameo my own characters from previous roleplays involving Black Fall). Personally, he wasn't one for heroes; villains were much more relatable to Sam, with the exception of Batman. The fact that they came from the City of Freaks was pretty hardcore; these Valos people must be some tough customers. All the more reason for Sam to befriend them.

"Yeah, there's a fuckton of emo chicks running around here." Sam replied "I feel like I'm in the middle of a My Chemical Romance concert. A lot of the people around here seem to be really aggressive too, like that bitch Valjean. The weirdest guy I've met, though, is probably my roommate. I didn't see advertisements for fucking one-armed robots in the brochure!"
Number of times Maxx has clicked on the casual section instead of the advanced section: 5 and counting.
Are all the stupids dead now?
Stitches, quick question; Jackal's power, I don't quite understand it. I mean, can't she just turn anybody into a monster by touching a surface near them? How do we defend against it?
Sam

"Name's Sam." Sam said in response to Jake and Gabe "Nice to meet you. I'm also new around here." The Jake kid seemed nicer than the pirate chick. He mostly ignored the two other people as they sat down, and cracked a smile at Gabe's joke. Her sarcasm amused him greatly. He looked down at his food and took a bite of the scrapple, amusing himself for a moment by thinking about all of the awful shit that was in the scrapple. Sam wasn't one to be grossed out by food, and so whenever he ate something weird he enjoyed thinking about what was in it. Scrapple was pig organs, he believed, but he couldn't remember which organs were in it.

"So where are you guys from?" he asked them after swallowing the piece of scrapple.

Jack Corvo

Jack's breakfast consisted of a bowl of oatmeal with raisins, a hard-boiled egg, and a black coffee. This was always his breakfast, and he never changed it, not once. Since arriving at the school, Jack Corvo ate the same breakfast every single day of his life. The school's cook at one time began to play games with him by changing the oatmeal to grits (Jack could not stand oatmeal) and the raisins to dried cranberries. He responded by launching his bowl at Valjean's head. Jack claimed that every part of the breakfast had a very specific function that gave him the energy to go through the day; the egg supported his brain health, the oatmeal gave him ample long-term energy, and the coffee supplied the caffeine that his mind craved at 8 AM.

Jack exited the lunch line with his everyday morning meal and immediately began to scan the room for people to sit with. His eyes fell on Shannon, and he was gone. Despite her extreme negativity, Shannon was one of Jack's best friends. He made his way across the room, greeting a few nameless familiar faces politely and not looking at Jean, who he could hear was being a prick again. Someone REALLY needs to slip some arsenic in that bastard's coffee one of these days Jack mused to himself. He arrived at Shannon's table and sat down next to her. The kid she was sitting across from looked vaguely familiar, but Jack couldn't put a name to the face.

"What's up, sunshine?" he said happily, poking fun at Shannon's usual stormy disposition.
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