Mirandae

The Spirits Within

I have this crazy idea of using affixes that set conditions for enemies in combat, i.e. traits. It's essentially the same idea, but without the stagger numbers. An affix can describe any kind of behavior that I can think of, which with I can control combat 'difficulty.' I got the idea when I watched some steamer on Twitch play Diablo 3, the other day. Some of the monsters in that game have 'affixes' that make them more difficult to fight against. I have yet to explore this idea, so I'm not going to change the combat stuffs anytime soon.

The Spirits Within

Life and not being able to post is fine, but do jot down notes on a piece of paper or in your phone for posts, so that you don't sit there when you have time to write and go "what the hell should I write?" This way, the process will be quicker and less "fuck, I have to do this." The second you feel that posting in my roleplay is a chore, you should either talk with me or consider some other option.

I'm also considering replacing the current combat guidelines with something even more casual, no numbers whatsoever, just to make combat less of a hick-up in story progression.

To help you relax and think:

The Spirits Within

JJ! Good to have you back! That video sure was creepy, but that "door to hell" was cool. Also pretty easy inspiration for a premise: Earth is invaded by monsters of Hell! As if that has never been done before, haha.

Oh, Rockette, that graphic with Emily is otherworldly! My notions of Emily were instantly refreshed; she looks so swagalicious there! For lack of a better word.
Also, fillers are more than welcome. I've already said that at least I love to read the subplots that you guys conjure! But we should definitely kill that boss soon, so that Anima can join the fun! We need her now as some people seem to be a bit inactive.

The Spirits Within

You deserve it, darling.

Okay, so it seems that most people took a break this weekend, which is fine. But we've slowed down more than I'd like. It also seems like Ozerath and Insatiable either have real life troubles or they're just being extremely slow, too slow. I'm not going to throw in any towels on their behalf just yet, so hopefully they will be back soon.

I have a resit, an exam, on Wednesday. So I'm going to be a bit busy, but I'll check the pad and the ooc every now and then. It'd make me extremely happy, ecstatic to return to some ic-posts on Thursday.

Apocalypse Now

Before the Blackout

---

Amanda had never been shocked before. Not in the sense that was accustomed to people in general. She had been aghast at Daniel’s or some other poor soul’s incompetence in her line of work, but never had she suffered negative physical symptoms from it. Amanda had troubles breathing. Her palms were sweaty and shaking. The sudden impact of chaos had turned the otherwise high society queen into a disgusting mess. But luckily she had run into Nicole. The woman was Amanda’s best bet of getting out of this horrid situation alive, perhaps even unscathed. Nicole’s lighting reflexes and protective action disrupted whatever sanity there was left in Amanda’s mind. The intentions were altruistic, but nonetheless unexpected. The random explosions did not add much comfort to the equation, to say the least.

“Did you have any power? Any news at all?” said Nicole.

“Power..? No, I was speaking to…Daniel? I think… and everything just went dark,” Amanda replied with a hesitant and trembling voice. “I… I don’t know what’s going on… I have to get to the studio,” she continued.

“I don’t think we should head deeper into the city. Even before planes started falling from the sky, I saw mobs forming. The police are there, but I don't know what's happening now,” Nicole continued. Amanda tore herself loose from Nicole’s protection and retorted in despair:

“You don’t understand, Nikki. I have to get to the studio… I don’t care what’s going on, I have to get there,” said Amanda.

“I don’t know how much we’ll be able to move,” said Nicole. “We’ll take the backroads. Alleyways. Away from the crowd. Stay with me and keep moving, alright? You okay to walk? There’s a bench over there if you need to sit?”

“I can walk, I think. Just help me… bad choice as you can see,” said Amanda and glanced at her shoes. The girl locked her arm into Nicole’s to support and allow herself to trek faster than otherwise possible. Amanda exhaled deeply while staring into the ground before her at a slight angle. “Okay, let’s go,” she finally said.

Present Day

---

Amanda flinched slightly at the comment from Nicole which contained erotic undertones of some sort, highly illegal the last time she had to read about them. But most likely the girl simply meant exactly what she was saying: to shut the annoyance up. A modest, yet desperate chuckled escaped from Amanda’s person. “Oh, yes, that sounds like a great idea, Nikki—I’ll try that,” said Amanda.

“Don’t listen to her Amanda, Nicole’s not as kind with the children like you are. Probably why she leads grunts like us,” said Richter. Amanda glanced at Richter, who was sitting next to her, and then back to Nicole. “I’m not so sure about that,” she said, “this girl right here got talents, which is why she pushes and orders you guys around,” Amanda continued.

While the two soldiers were chatting Horace was kind enough to bring Amanda her late night dinner. He knew that such kindness always netted him a few extra tokens in tips. This night was no different. The plate was nice and clean, the food looked decently delicious, and Amanda was sufficiently satisfied so far. She slipped the man a few tokens and smirked at him. Amanda was a regular after all. Contributing to the food and service was the least she could do. The girl returned her attention to the two soldiers when Richter was about to leave.

“Sleep well, Rich,” she said.

Nicole’s words were somewhat comforting. She was the only person Amanda knew from before the blackout, which made it even more so important to cherish and heed her words and company. Amanda sighed. While what Nicole said was partially true, Amanda could not help but to feel a bit distraught. She did not know why she felt that way or what she could do to set it right, but what she did know was that just being with and near Nicole made things slightly less horrible.

“I don’t know… I guess I’m fine. It’s not like there’s nothing to do. I mean, there’s never a spare moment,” said Amanda and poked at her food before biting off another chuck of the meat. She covered her mouth while she chewed, awkwardly catching Nicole’s gaze with her own. “Well, they seem to enjoy whatever you’d call what we’re doing on Thursday nights. I mean… they’re paying for it, so I must be doing something right. But lately I’ve felt like there’s something missing. I’m not getting a kick out of it as I used to… and I don’t know why,” she said and waved at Horace to bring her a tissue. The girl gently wiped away whatever smudges the food had left at the corners of her mouth. “… It’s all very confusing,” she continued. “But whatever, forget about that. How are you doing, sweetie? You are not going shot at out there, are you?—because I’ll kill you myself if are putting yourself in harm’s way, you know.”

The Spirits Within

Aww, thank you sweetie! Haha, making me all teary and stuff. I might reconsider watching The Conjuring now. I actually attempted to watch it once, but I shut it down when those girls living together came home to their doll (?) or something that was possessed or alive... I don't know. I was like... nope, nope, nope, bye.

Apocalypse Now

Haha, take your time, sweetie! No rush.

The Spirits Within

I hate horror movies! I can't watch them at all. I'm too good spirited to watch evil things. I start to cry, get panic attacks, or some other crazy stuff when I watch that garbage, which is why I also dislike the Halloween fad... where everyone insists on watching scary movies all night.

Apocalypse Now

Before the Blackout

---

“You don’t like the lavender skirts?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Please bore someone else with your questions, Daniel.”
“Don’t be like that, Mandy.”
“Amanda.”
“Well, alright… what about the maroon ones?”
“Maybe. But the padding that Simone supplemented for the adjustment doesn’t work with walk. Joseline is never going to confirm it.”
“I’ll tell him to cut it.”
“Also, tell Natalie that the fabric for the Two-Four Layout needs to be lean, not paunchy. And why, for the love of all that is holy, would she not inform Marc about the Lacroix satchels when she was down at Pier 59 studios, like I told her? Fix this, Daniel.”
“Right awa--”

The poor boy on the other end of the line was suddenly cut off. The usual case would have entailed Amanda hanging up on her imbecilic assistant, but this time the tale told different words. Along with the sudden interruption of silence, the somewhat bohemian, yet stylish loft apartment darkened. Amanda was burrowed deep within her queen sized bed from Oxford Creek Beds—surrounded by concept spreads and layouts, a multitude of different fabrics and designer sketch books, and various accessories—clad in white frames and mattress and complemented with Prussian blue sheets and pillows, when it happened. She observed her surroundings with a hasty glance, deeply uninterested in the situation. To her it appeared to be just another power outage.

A minute or two passed. Amanda had shut her eyes for a moment, but soon realized that sleeping would only make things worse. She jerkily pulled herself up and out of the insanely comfortable furniture with a slight grunt, still wearing the getup of the day—black Jose Jacquard treggings with subtle, greyish floral design, a loose, knitted Doeuillet sweater of some charcoal coloration, and a black top underneath. Amanda was not accustomed to waiting for anyone or anything but herself, thus she aspired to reach the intercom telephone by the front door of her loft apartment and ring the concierge in the lobby. Little did she know or realize that the electronic device was out of service, just like everything else. Amanda vented a loud sigh. She actually had to get herself down to the lobby, in person.

The woman slipped into her somewhat clumsy Chanel high heeled platform pumps of black coloration to match the rest of her outfit. Perhaps it was not the wisest decision of her life, but forgivable considering her ignorance in the situation. Much to her distress, Amanda quaked in terror when she was met by the dormant and silent contraption previously known to her as the elevator. As she stood frozen, her disgustingly handsome neighbor, a man of wealth and success within the world of finance, exited his own residence, set forth by a similar inquiry as Amanda. He gently placed his hand on Amanda’s back when he greeted her.

“Hello, Amanda.”
“Brian, I didn’t see you there.”
“How about this power outage, huh? Creepy.”
“Yeah.”
“Going down?”
“I was hoping too, but the elevator doesn’t seem to work.”
“The stairs? It looks like you could use a bit of help, with those shoes.”
“Right,” Amanda chuckled slightly with her signature deep, sensual voice, somewhat displaying her luminescent white teeth, and tilting her head.

The trek down the stairwell proved to be a challenging feat, as the confined space of some metallic odor was pitch black and because the two high society figures lived above the top floor. Amanda had to be extra careful considering her poor choice of footwear. But her motto had always been to look fabulous even in the face of Armageddon. When they finally reach the lobby and the concierge, the two found a crowd of some dozen people conversing with the full service crew of the building, which included the caretaker, the doorman, the concierge, and the landlord himself. Apparently, the whole downtown area of Seattle was affected, perhaps even more so than that. The other residents of the building seemed frightened and concerned. Rumors were circulating quickly considering most forms of communication were disabled. But Amanda was not amused. She sported her traditional blank stare and somewhat apathetic aura inherit to most people who frolicked in the halls of fashion.

“We’ve already spoken with the authorities and the best thing that you can do is to go back to your apartments and wait,” said the landlord.
“When will this be over?” said some distraught resident.
“We don’t know. Please, just return to your apartments.”

Brian looked to Amanda where she stood with his arm around her shoulders.
“Well, that wasn’t entirely unexpected.”
“I need to get down to the studio. There are a few collections there that I cannot risk losing to looters, or whatever.”
“I don’t think looters are interested in fashion clothing.”
Amanda glanced at Brian with a pallid stare.
“Nonetheless.”
The man hesitated.
“I can come with you, if you want.”
“No. Make sure that none of these rats here break into our apartments, especially mine. I cannot imagine that you own anything of value,” she smirked playfully.
“Now that’s below the belt, missy.”
“Just where I like it.”

Amanda walked as hastily as her Chanel shoes allowed her to down 5th avenue, towards the studio. Her arms were wrapped tightly across her stomach, just below her chest and her head tilted downwards ever so slightly to indicate that she did not want to speak or acknowledge anyone. She was still in ‘work-mode,’ which meant that everyone were beneath her, whereas she would never dress in that attitude otherwise. There was no room for sheep in her line of work. And being the editor of a major fashion magazine, she had to be a megalodon amongst sharks. It was a habit and way of life that she would soon have to forget.

Suddenly, an immense explosion spewed forth when what appeared to be an aircraft viciously descended from the heavens, powerless and without control, and crashed into a building nearby. Amanda was startled beyond anything she had ever experienced before. Due to her rejecting walk and posture, she had not noticed when the aluminum contraption, a work of wonder, fell from some thousands of feet above her. The woman almost tripped over the high heels when it happened, her arms reaching behind her body in an instant to search for a nearby wall to maintain balance against. The scene was horrid and Amanda gasped. The building was set wildly ablaze and people in and all around the structure screamed in terror. Memories of that long lost act of villainy in New York came to mind, as it forever would when concerning aircrafts crashing into buildings.

Amanda suffered a slight panic attack, unable to move or decide what to do. A large collection of people constantly ran past her in some direction of which she was not familiar. A woman stopped and tried to shake Amanda back to reality. “Hello?! Are you okay?” she asked. Amanda did not reply. Instead, she continued to powerwalk in the same direction that everyone was running, leaving whoever it was that had taken the time to see if she was well behind. However, what happened next was utmost unexpected and it almost startled Amanda just as much as the explosion itself: Nicole. The dark haired belle exclaimed Amanda’s name and then embraced her tightly. Still slightly stunned and chocked, disoriented in her speech, Amanda attempted to react.

“Yes… I…what’s going on? I… have to get down to the studio… and pick up the Chéruit… c-collections… Nicole? Darling…”

Present Day

---

“So, it is then that we get the first premise: there are effects in the world and the universe. You see and hear them all the time. And every possible effect of something must have a cause. When someone with ‘political differences’ shoot at you with a gun, you hear the sound of gunfire, which is an effect of the gun firing the bullet. Therefore, the second premise becomes: any effect derives eventually from a first cause, which gives us the first conclusion: there is a first cause,” said Amanda.

The small gathering of teenagers appeared slightly lost and confused, yet they could somehow connect the dots by relating to things they knew to be real in their daily lives. One of her students—Michael—always sought to challenge Amanda in her teachings of various philosophical subjects. He was an extraordinarily clever young man, whom did not mean to be provocative, but rather learn everything he possibly could.

“Amanda…”
“Just wait one minute, Michael.”

She then continued.

“So, the second phase builds on the first. It starts with the conclusion that phase one is supposed to prove. It adds another assumption and draws the First Cause argument’s final conclusion. Here we have the conclusion of phase one: there is a first cause. The third premise says that if there is a first cause, then it is God. And the second conclusion says that God exists,” Amanda finished and looked to Michael, “yes?”

“I get that there are causes and there are effects and everything derives eventually from a first cause, but shouldn’t that mean that God is an effect as well of some other cause, and wouldn’t that mean that this theory is faulty as it has no beginning or end?” said Michael.

“It’s an interesting point. But when we define God we define it as something all-knowing, all-powerful, and morally perfect, which assumes that God would be capable of self-creation as well. As human beings, we cannot fathom the concept of infinity or something that does not begin or end,” said Amanda.

“But…-”

“This is about something called the Principle of Sufficient Reason… which we’ll talk about tomorrow,” Amanda interrupted.

The woman dismissed the class of some eight students with an uneventful, almost arrogant wave of her hand. Amanda had made it perfectly clear that she did not enjoy the duties to which she had been assigned, but she had little choice in the matter. In a world like this, there was no purpose or room for any particular fashion or vanity, at least not in the sense to which Amanda was accustomed. However, she did cherish the weekly gatherings of girls and women at her place to discuss said topic: fashion and style. Amanda did not know the first thing about sewing, but she did know a thing or two about fabric, fitting, and other such things useful to the ladies when it came to being and looking fabulous.

The philosophy class had extended well beyond its usual timeframe. Amanda encouraged the students to discussion, but when it pushed the lesson by two hours, sometimes three, she was less than happy about it. Amanda swung by her quarters to slip into something more presentable. She still had a respectable collection of exquisite garment considering the state of things. Some random, dark treggings were sufficient, complemented by a white t-shit and a lengthy cardigan on top. Footwear was all about being practical these days, which is the only reason why anyone would ever witness Amanda in sneakers.

Amanda had yet to eat anything since lunch time, countless of hours earlier. Her stomach ached and screamed all the way over to the ration center closest to Amanda’s residence. When she entered, she thought she went mad just then. The scent of whatever had been cooked or prepared from earlier of the day assaulted all of her senses at once and washed, drowned her in euphoria. Amanda heeded Nicole’s inquiry and made her way over to where she sat.

“Horace, I’ll have whatever gorgeous here is having, whatever the cost.”
“We all know you can afford it,” said Horace.
“Well, I have to suffer for it once a week with a dozen or more strangers in my home.”
Horace chuckled. Amanda sat down across from Nicole and next to Richter.
“Hello, Rich,” she said, “Yes, darling, late dinner indeed. Michael kept at it once again… that boy is going to be the end of me, I know it.”

Apocalypse Now

Amanda Defourny
28 / 5’5”
Amanda has always favored and exerted a philosophy of sapience, carefully selecting her words in speech and writing. She has an air of serenity to her which to some might impose terror, but no other human being has ever to her been less worth than herself, thus altruism is her ally and primary weapon. However, Amanda can occasionally fall prey to the wicked workings of the mind through painful retrospect and musing of perceived injustices, often to the point of indulgence or some insane properties. Some might suggest that she is manipulative in her occult charisma and magnetism, while others are too far along drowned in her dark charms to realize even the slightest of mesmerization. Her presence is ultimately unnerving, yet enchanting akin to leaders of sects.