Potemking

World of Light

LOCATION:Al Mamoon Northeast - Rocket Inc.
WORD COUNT: 1,061(+2 EXP)
MENTIONS: Laharl, Jesse, Midna

---

Simple strategy was all that was needed against an almost mindless foe like this one. The fireballs weren't an unexpected attack considering the summon's appearance, though he felt his freshly closed wounds get grazed with heat from the retort. While the pain caused Mao to grit his teeth, it at least hadn't been something that'd tear open those injuries: Instead the heat crisping that flesh might've kept him sealed up a bit better! Unfortunately, this would cause a persistent stinging pain, and against his knowing, getting struck in those areas would hurt even worse now. But his own battle was almost won, he just needed to take this a little farther.

And that he did: After connecting with his weapon, Mao went into a full-rounded swing, the damage from the first attack being enough to stagger the Atronach for his spin to connect with another slash in the same section as before: Cutting deeper, and the result of that being the Atronach not having enough of a midsection left to keep itself upright. Instead, it's upper body flopped backwards against the wall, it's legs slumping forward until it was onto it's knees. The forward motion was enough to let the upper half slide from the wall, leaving the wall singed as it practically folded in half from the result of the second attack, beginning to lose it's flame and instead crumble apart, ashes spilling to the floor as it faded.

Sheathing his blade, Mao was about to return to dealing with the downed Dragonborn: But a chunk of the floor brought itself into the air and yoinked the guy away! Mao's gaze shot to Jesse, watching as she attempted to finish him off, her shot connecting but not fast enough before the Dragonborn used some sort of escape plan, disappearing before their eyes. Damn, one of the cursed ones went and probably killed him. Mao thought, not wanting this to come back to bite him. Though, eyes being relevant now, Jesse's seemed fine. Had that Princess done this, too? Mao could only assume so. Which meant gunning that armored bastard down was a full personal decision, too. That was better than he previously thought.

Overall, this meant their fight was currently over. Not having any idea of how to fix one of these gleaming bastards himself, he went over to Laharl: They'd both been pretty injured by this experience, but it seemed this Overlord didn't have the bright mind to bring healing items! Instead he was sitting here with his arms ready to become chew toys for a dog. "Hope your arms work enough to use this," Mao snarked as he tossed a Hard Candy at his fellow demon, that being the extent of kindness he'd get. Hopefully that'd be enough to at least keep him alive until someone with the ability to actually get rid of the gleam came about.

Turning his attention to Jesse, he walked over, scooping up that axe the Dragonborn left behind during the short trip. The shine from the axe's green blade flashed over Mao's glasses, removing his eyes from view for a moment until he flipped it, handle held out towards Jesse, as it'd been her finish unfortunately. He was too proud to admit that the warrior had deceived him and bought time for that escape plan, and like hell he was going to thank her for interfering with his fight, but Jesse's blast probably put an end to him either way. Someone else that wouldn't hesitate in the heat of the moment was much more acceptable than people like that irritating furry-creature that'd gone with the other team. He'd have to get mad at someone else for the casualties on this one. Mao kept to the script.

"Guess he's taken care of." Mao noted the Dragonborn had been durable, stronger than he expected by a long shot. He could only hope the guy couldn't survive getting a shotgun blast to the chest, or he'd probably be extremely angry the next time he ran into the two Yellow members that put a beatdown on him. But he wouldn't be getting up quick, wherever he was. Overall this was genuinely unfortunate, as Mao would've appreciated a first-hand example of what happened to folks that died here, considering the Demon he had recruited to his ranks prior through a Spirit. There'd be other opportunities, he assumed. Plenty of time to study these things.

Snapping back from his thoughts, Mao easily picked up on the sound of Ciella and Amara ending their battle. His head turned, wondering if 'his' team was winning or losing. Though with the numbers in their favor it probably didn't matter. "Sounds like that's where I'm going next," Mao noted aloud, heading towards the commotion with or without the axe, depending on Jesse's own choice on taking it.

It seemed that everything was over by the time the Dragonborn was dealt with, though. They seemed to be making their way back to the front of the building, marking the battle as over. Well, the bee and that hedgehog were still missing, but where they went, Mao himself wasn't sure. What Mao could notice was that there weren't more bodies coming out of the conference chamber than those that went in. In fact, aside from Ciella's appearance change, the number seemed the same aside from their enemies being out of the picture.

"Looks like we're not filling out the ranks today." Mao remarked, not particularly caring about this outcome as it was how he would've handled it with no restrictions in place. His gaze met with Midna, figuring since she wanted to play parole officer he'd report to her in particular. "That old armored guy used something to retreat, but not before she put a hole in his chest." Mao gestured back to Jesse with a thumb, not wanting to be barked at over the assumed casualty. "Though that wasn't before he turned Laharl into a meat slab for his axe to carve. I made sure he isn't dead, but I don't have the supplies left to get him into decent shape." Well, his two leftover Hard Candies might've at least helped, but he'd already given out one. He made sure Laharl was alive, and that was about all he'd do. Someone else could fix him up further, or maybe take advantage to cure that gleaming curse of his.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Contract: Dakota Rhett

Human

Name: Dakota Rhett

Age: 22

Arcana: The Star

Appearance: Standing at 165cm and weighing in at just under 130lbs, Dakota isn't the tallest guy you'll see in a crowd. Sporting brown eyes and a head of black hair with orange highlights that goes nearly down to the center of his back, he has a fair complexion and smooth skin to give him a rather childish face to go with his pearly-white smile. His posture isn't too bad, though he does slouch on occasion, mostly when stomping about or just moping. An exposed torso would show some surgery scars, a rather jarring sight compared to the rest of his body which seems pristine and well-cared for.

A fan of darker colors despite his highlights, the majority of his clothes lineup is a mixture of black and greys, an undershirt in black for his waistcoat in gray, though sporting the usual colorful blue jeans in most situations, boot-cut to not cover up a pair of brown shoes, full upper leather though not exactly the priciest if you cared enough to know that sort of thing.

For accessories, he's usually wearing a silver chain or two on his neck, and a pair of sunglasses hanging from the neck of his shirt. An assortment of small rubber armbands usually jiggling loosely on his wrists, mainly seeming to be freebies from occasional concerts. He also has a silver stud in his left ear, though lacks any other piercings. The only other notable difference to the average joe is his black fingernails.

Personality: Dakota is an enthusiastic and kindhearted individual, the sort to help you carry something when you're overburdened, or at least hold a door open. Simply walking away is something he isn't able to do easily, his usual joyful demeanor perhaps laying on the niceness a little thick sometimes, even if it's all genuine. One could consider him annoying, but he'd mostly brush this off depending on how harsh it's said. He understands personal space, and while he's happy to invade it for what he thinks is a good cause, he's also self-aware enough to realize enough is enough and back away when he's bothering someone.

One to overly romanticize a situation, occasionally he can come off as a bit of a ditz with his joyful antics. He finds momentary joy in small things, trying to stay optimistic. He's also a passionate soul, especially when it comes to music. The joy it brings to him and those around him is something irreplaceable, giving him life like nothing else. Recent developments have taken a lot of that away, but he's stubborn and determined enough to keep singing as a part of his life, even with the strife it causes.

Despite the positivity he likes to exert, attempting to stop him from enjoying his favorite things in life can lead to mild aggressiveness on his part: Wanting to push himself for the sake of his life's passion. Despite the fact he talks big however, he's not exactly brave enough to push himself too far for his own personal enjoyment, considering himself a coward for not putting himself on the line for what he loves. Not one to want to bother other people means he doesn't often confide in them, leading to a lot of pent up irritation that is boiling over at this current point in his life.

Regardless of his frustrations, he tries his best for other people. A friend that'd have your back, a person that will listen despite not knowing how to communicate about his own issues very well. He'd much rather pull other people out of feeling the same way he does by doing anything he can, than see them suffering as well. He's not so naive to think it's just as easy as giving a pep talk, though...

Bio: Dakota was born into a middle-class household, with a busy father and mother. This left him mostly raised by his grandmother, who gave him the love and support he needed to grow into a half-decent young man like he is today. Though his grandmother wasn't always the playful sort, instead trying to find distractions for the young boy, one of which was always effective was the radio. Music in general caught on with him from an early age, from him boogieing down in his living room as a five year old, to the actually musically interested boy he became as time passed.

He often sang around the house, while at the store, sometimes even in school which got him into trouble on occasion. He fiddled with multiple instruments over the years, but always found the most comfort with his singing voice, starting to look to express himself in any way he could. One such way was doing musical covers and uploading them online for others to see. (Under the username Rhetty) He wasn't astoundingly popular, but for being the older teen he was, it made him happy. This evolved into him getting into a small band (Simply called 'The Spark') with some friends, dividing his time between his online content and pulling off small gigs across town with his pals. It was a life worth living, and he appreciated it to no end.

On occasion, he would feel chest pains, or shortness of breath. Where others showed concern, he insisted he was fine and that nothing was wrong. He was simply tired from the performances they put on, is all. But uncertainty kept in his mind when it also happened around his home, his ever-older growing grandmother expressing her own worries. Feeling fine, or at least insisting to himself he was, he ignored such concerns to instead press on with his gigs.

This all started going downhill, unfortunately. A moment of pride, Dakota getting wound up over some words that lead to a competition with an opposing band. Not a huge event by any means, but to the groups involved it was serious business. He put his heart into his vocals, but was never intended to finish the event: The pain in his chest had been bad from the start, and only got worse the further in they got. Immense fatigue brought him to the ground, an ambulance being called, and thankfully responding in time to take in the boy and save his life.

The doctor said it was 'primary spontaneous pneumothorax', a lung puncture that they couldn't identify the exact cause of. It took 8 weeks of recovery for him to leave with instructions that hurt his soul. His singing career was on hold indefinitely, as too much work on his lungs after the incident could cause damage to his heart, or another puncture. He'd never sing again, at least in such a loud and vigorous fashion as he was passionate about. It was devastating, and left him feeling quite empty. He only hoped to find some sort of comfort once he was out of the hospital, though nothing of the sort happened.

His band left him behind. A subtle guise of him needing rest trying to block the louder fact that a low-performance vocalist was useless to them. Word traveled fast and nobody else wanted him, either. Growing frustrated, he's tried to keep his content online flowing smoothly along, but even that began to hit a snag as his condition keeps him from delivering on his usual schedule, finding his comments littered with numerous insults and complaints that only killed his energy further, making it hard to find any sort of comeback. Trapped between thinking of himself as weak and cowardly for not pushing himself harder, and being afraid of the effects of pushing him self in such a way, he hasn't yet found any sort of reprieve from these events.

He's come to Waterfront University in the hope of finding something else to do with his life, or at least be distracted by classes as to not waste his life just sitting around. He's been unable to focus since arriving, and doesn't seem to be making much progress on discovering an alternate lifepath for himself. Some might wonder if this was a waste of what resources he had, and that by the end he'd be just as lost as when he started. He could definitely see it as a possibility.

Scars: Check the literal scars on his torso. It's a reminder that what's under there is worthless to achieve his goals, and that he'll never amount to a singing star like he wanted to. Not able to do a full song cover or jog too far without nearly falling over from a need for air has lead him to losing the small popularity he had, and he now sits in the shadow of his former self, envious and upset at himself for being weak enough to let this happen. Especially since there's no fixing it back to pristine condition, meaning there's no road back to where he was.

Shadow

Appearance: Shadow Dakota takes his aesthetic to a new level, strapped head-to-toe in clothes flowing with legitimate neon lights that could blind a person looking at him for too long. A brightly-colored jumpsuit with a popped collar, and a large scarf that flows in a wind that seems to just exist by his mere presence. He has star-shaped shades, except the lenses are shattered, revealing his yellow eyes for all to see. His hair is in a ponytail, with the mess atop his head being slicked back. His chains and stud are both golden in color rather than Dakota's regular silver.

If it were to be angered, who knows what it could potentially turn into? One could pray that nobody has to find out.

Personality: Shadow Dakota is all the anger his weaker self allows to build up. His tone is bombastic, always posing with his mic and shouting out that nobody controls him, and only he makes the rules. All the pride he has in himself and his former abilities come out here, believing himself to truly be the cream of the crop, just damned by fate. He is willing to violently lash out at anyone who would endanger his way of life, wanting to say to hell with fate! He carves his own path, no matter the cost! Having no time for sniveling or cowardice when he just wishes to feel full from his previous occupation.

He tires of feeling the need to please everyone: Wishing to live for himself at any cost, as why is there a need to have any fear or regard for safety? Put it all on the line, just for the sake of enjoying life for whatever time's left! These are the things Shadow Dakota lives for, and though put to extremes beyond their limits, they are in some regard thoughts that reside in Dakota, too. In the end, in the way Dakota has wandered to University to try and find a path now that he's lost, Shadow Dakota has lost himself in his passion and expresses the madness such disregard for life can cause.

Territory: A star needs his place to perform... Shadow Dakota's territory is essentially a wide stage inside an entertainment hall, where he eternally rocks on as shadows cheer as a crowd and submit to his every whim. The only sources of light being the flashing neon lights in the sky, serving as both a presentation for Shadow Dakota and as searchlights for potential intruders to his domain. If someone were to get backstage through a side route, they'd find that there's a perfectly average backroom. A place where, perhaps, Shadow Dakota lets his guard down. A place where he calms, to an extent, and relaxes.

But a star always wishes for you to keep your eyes on stage, and never think about the potential troubles in the back...

Metaverse

An individual who rode the winds of freedom, but was torn from their chosen path by force. Strums of a lyre offer an assortment of supportive spells, while the enemies of those it supports falls to the free wind it still wields.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

@Mistress Dizzy

From the Int Check, current Arcana in use are Star, Hermit, and Chariot.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

@Mistress Dizzy

We're most definitely looking for more folks. Feel free to get character craftin'!

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

@Lugubrious

A Persona RP set in America and a guy has Burger in his last name, I see how it is. lmao

I can actually relate to Barney quite a lot from my own experiences growing up and trying to be the one to pick up my family whenever they were down on their luck, or just making mistakes. In that regard I already have a reason to start wanting to invest myself in seeing where he'll end up by the end of this whole story.

World of Light

LOCATION:Al Mamoon Northeast - Rocket Inc.
WORD COUNT: 369(+1 EXP)
MENTIONS:

---

Considering how many of their opponents had guns earlier, Mao wasn't sure for a moment if he was being shot at or if another member of Yellow was being filled with lead. Luckily it came to light that it was in fact a friendly bullet, piercing the Dragonborn no less, which gave Mao more than enough of a chance for his maneuver to work flawlessly. Or so he thought, wiping his shoe against the Dragonborn's shoulder, figuring he was done. But a sudden use of a spell on his end caused Mao to step back, the sight of the flaming atronach taking him by surprise. Healing, elemental spells, and now summoning? This guy had every trick in the book, and honestly, Mao was a little envious of summoning in particular. No matter, it was just one more to cut down on his warpath, and it wouldn't take long.

At least, Mao hoped. Glancing back, his movement had put him closer to the injured Laharl. They were in a bit of an awkward position against this wall still, with the Atronach on one side with the Dragonborn floored, and Laharl on the other side with Mao in the middle. The wall simply meant there were less ways to dodge or weave, and whoever applied pressure would be the one to gain the advantage. Not to mention having something strike in Laharl's direction was less than ideal, so moving again seemed right.

Not fond of the idea of striking the flame summon with his bare hands, Mao went for his sword. "Just one more for the chopping block!" Mao boasted. If the Dragonborn had intended for the Atronach to be a good distraction, it was. He didn't give the Dragonborn a second glance as he brought himself towards the Atronach and away from the wall, his unsheathing of his blade going directly into a wide swing that covered a dodge to the left or right unless this creature was fast enough to evade. And unless it could phase through a wall, it had no method of simply backing up, either. And if it chose to counterattack, at least Mao wasn't in Laharl's path anymore, leaving it no reason to prioritize finishing him off.

LOCATION:The Maw - The Depths, Underwater
WORD COUNT:466(+1 EXP)
MENTIONS: Bowser Jr, Creepy Water Lady

---

Mirage had descended a fair amount by this point, growing excited as the light on the BULL was able to illuminate a floor, marking his arrival at the bottom. Hah, easy! He thought to himself in a triumphant manner, keeping high enough to not have to fret about the debris on the floor. He attempted to use memory to get an idea of where the Flow Control was, but it was mostly him floating along to find a wall that'd lead him to any doorways on the bottom. One of which he luckily came across, and which yielded results as with his squinted real eyes he could make out the word 'Flow' at least on the sign. Which gave him enough of a spark to exclaim that "I found the controls!" To the group still near his pilot seat.

This enthusiasm died as a bright light suddenly shined behind him, allowing him to see a rather horrifying form on the wall. An immense amount of hair flowing around, something that felt familiar and not in the good way. The feminine form of the body moving around in a less dead way caused his eyes to widen, the BULL's turning speed not exactly being the greatest thing in the world, but there were only two other sources of light he was aware of and both of them were friendly, meaning either he was getting a warning from them or he'd seen them in a moment of need.

By the time he'd got around and tried to barrel over to what was now identified as Junior's sub, all Mirage could see was the weird figure fleeing. Not exactly wanting to go after it, he had to try and figure out a way to communicate with the smaller Bowser for a moment. The BULL's camera eyed the submarine as it blinked it's light a few times to get Junior's attention, before beginning to head back to Flow Control in reverse. The pincers of the BULL raised up and tilted slightly towards it, not having much mobility but enough to maybe gesture This way! so that they could get this done.

Hoping he got Junior's attention enough, he used the BULL as a spotlight to keep an eye out behind him as he came along, specifically focusing on the direction the 'water lady' had gone. Unfortunately, to make sure he didn't crash into anything, Mirage took it slow. But Junior might've understood the direction by now and could speed ahead to try and get to the Flow Control, leaving him to try and distract their long-haired stalker. The BULL was expendable after all, so if it wanted to terrorize or mess with it, Mirage at least knew he was safe physically. Seeing that faceless form was disturbing though, life endangered or not...

Mockingbird 'Duerage'

LOCATION: The Maw - The Depths, Underwater
WORD COUNT: 367
MENTIONS:

---

The poor decision to attack this creature truly came to light as he attempted to jab into it. It was larger than he thought, only managing to piss it off with his attack that lead to a horrific dismemberment that was sending him reeling, cries hard to hear in the waters. The fish left, but Duerage was left reeling from the assault, light turning on to try and examine it's damages. There wasn't an arm: There was torn diving suit and partial machinery, and a strange gel in the air. No blood. To an extent, it knew it wasn't normal, but this horrific sudden tear from it's view of itself caused it to begin to panic immensely.

"I-I'm gonna drown!" He cried out, hearing his own voice but not even registering he could still speak. His mind rushed to panic about drowning, attempting to bring itself upwards, with no results. It was much too heavy to swim up, and this only heightened it's panic, as it stomped along, attempting in any way it could to find a way out of the water. Hefty stomps on the floor carried it along, unfortunately in the wrong direction of Flow Control, but that wasn't something it could prioritize right now. As it marched, a multitude of thoughts and words came to mind, thoughts racing, not able to slow down from the panic.

I'm gonna die here!

I can't even feel the pain from my arm.

Where are the others?

Am I all alone?

Will anyone ever find me?

Will anyone remember me?

She'll remember me.

She gave me a chance.

"̵͕̣͓͔̗̿̿̀͛̽̿̽̈́͗̍͑͑̚̚̕͝Į̶̡̨̠̞͔͕̭͎͉̆̿ͅ'̵̡̢̲̙̭̣̩̮̼̂͒͐̑̽̑̔̀m̶̱͈͓̣̊̅́͑̎̑̑̄́̂͜.̵̧̠̣̘͇̘͈͗͋͊̏́͌̄͝ͅͅ.̶̨̞͙̔͑̊́̕.̷̨̩̠̮͍́̈́͊̈́͌̽̚̕ͅI̶̛̩̍́͂̾̆͂́͊͊̀̀͐͝͝͝'̷̡̧̛̺͉͓̹̰̫̭͍̇̾̏́̄̒m̶̻̣͉̞̳͕̩͂ ̷̻͉̻̣͚͉̱̺̱͈̖͙̹͗̏͊̿̎̃̅͜͜͝͝s̸̡̘̥̲̻̙̥͍͈̲̹̊͐̆̇͛̆̀́̆ò̶͎̙ ̸̨̨̼̼̖̖̭̬̙̬̭̼̫̠̟͎̔̅̋̅̂̂̚͜͝s̵̡̧̘͕͔͈͙̠̺̤̞͓̩͉͐̓ò̶̫̗̠͇̠͑̇̈́͐̓͒̅͊̇̔̚͜͠͠r̵͈̹̈́͒́͋̄͋̀̚͝r̸̛̥̺̺̹̪̮͖̩̹͓̹̠̦̊̒̔̽̋͊̎͐͒̕͜͝ͅỳ̵̧̖̩͙̭̥̮̥̞͈̯̝͆͆̀̐̿̋̋͛̀̿̕͘͘.̷̢͓̰̥͔̻̞̈́̐̓̀̊͊̀́͂̈̈́͐̅͘͝"̵͕͇̗̼̩̤͓̱͈̰͈̪͎͛͂́̇͋̑̿̓̀̉̋͘͜͜ ̷̛̝̈̄̕͝

"̷̱͌͊̋̀͌̿̌̊̂̀͆̏̚͜͝T̴̞͕̋̇́ą̸̢̨̬͙͔̱̘̻̺̻̖̄̇̍͆̀́͒̃̄̓̔͑̕̕̚͝ķ̸͔̮͕̼̤̞̟͇́̊́̐̐́̒̐̈́̂̚͜ę̶̝̱͖̫͉̭̤͉̝̘̯̤͗̀̓̅͛̄̍̑̀̒̎́̄͂̓̄͜͜͜͠ ̶̤͉͙̞̎̉̆̒̀̌͘͝͝ç̵̛͉̪͕̳̘͉̊̀͂͋̆̌̎͂͛͆͒̎̊̎̀͛à̷͖̋͒r̶̡̛̛͓̖̖̖͖̩̱̝̙̔͛̾̾̀́͋̉̐̌̕͜͜ę̵̡͈̭̪̼̱͍̣̰͖͔̽̊͋͜͝ͅ ̵̧̛̦̥̮̥̲̥͑͋̋́̊̓̔̀̿̍̔̒̒̈́̕͘ǫ̴̯͈̝̱̫̼͙͇̔͆͊̔f̸̳̝̠̮̮͕̦̖͎̭͇̯̰̳͖̼̉̊̽̽͊͜ ̵̡͚̘͚̳̣̺̳̯̣̼̭̙̦͓͗ͅJ̶̨̡͍̹͔͉̞̝̝̬̺̰̠͔̲͐̊ͅư̴̧̢̗̹̞̤̪͉͙̈́͆̂̉͜n̵̛͚̬̊̒̀͛̍̌͌̃̈́̈́͋͆͛ȋ̷̢̢͇̙͜ơ̴̢̝̺̮͎̬̦̏͐̀̾̏͂̐̀̈́̑̑̎͌̈͠r̷̬͚̣̻̈́͒̓͆̑̄́̒̍̓̄̎̚̕͜͝͝-̶̞̪̠͒͒̑̏̏̈́̿̿̄͛͑͌̈́̂̚͠k̸̪̮̱͔̻̻̹̟͌̊́̈̓̽͑͗̽͌̐͆͋̽͘̚͝ư̵̡̧̬̩͓͍͎͋̐̀̋̏̕̚n̸̜͓̼̑̈́̒͛̀̉͊̔͜ ̸̛̞̠̩͕̖̺̼̫̲̘͑̍̓̀̓́̈̌́̿̚͜ͅf̵̧͇̥̻͍͚͇͆̇͗̄̚ơ̴̧̞̪͔͉̼̤̩̜̥͈͍̲͛͗̔͌̋̈́͂͋̎͐͝͝r̸̜̹̻͋͐̒͊̔̊͂́̀͒́̌̚̕ ̷̨̧̺̼̙̝̹̻̂̀̾̄͗͋ͅư̴̙͌́̓̎̏̓̇̈̐̆̃͆̒͛s̷̺̞͚̈́̇͒̽͌̀̌̇̽̃̈́͘͠ͅ!̸̛̛̲̪̥̜̮̥̻̓͗̅̒̆̎̿̓̎̏̾̚͜͜"̶̠̦̼̣̖̟̂̄̒͗̽̄̃̊̅̾́͋͋͑̚̕͠

...

Whether it stumbled during it's panic or simply fell over from the shock of what had happened, the Mockingbird's heavy suit laid upon the floor. Occasionally it's stable hand twitched around, but it couldn't cope with the sudden injury. Instead, it was left laying there, mumbling that it was drowning. Wishing it'd get help. But even if help came now, it was much too late. What grasp 'Duerage' had on it's own situation was now lost, the Maw claiming an innocent that tried to use it's newfound life for the better.

Unfortunately, nobody would ever know it lost itself trying to help.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

I probably also should've mentioned my Persona specializes in Support, lol

Also, @Lugubrious, how are skills/Persona abilities going to be decided? Are you just assigning the basics once we get our Persona's IC based on our choices in the CS?

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Contract: Dakota Rhett

Human

Name: Dakota Rhett

Age: 22

Arcana: The Star

Appearance: Standing at 165cm and weighing in at just under 130lbs, Dakota isn't the tallest guy you'll see in a crowd. Sporting brown eyes and a head of black hair with orange highlights that goes nearly down to the center of his back, he has a fair complexion and smooth skin to give him a rather childish face to go with his pearly-white smile. His posture isn't too bad, though he does slouch on occasion, mostly when stomping about or just moping. An exposed torso would show some surgery scars, a rather jarring sight compared to the rest of his body which seems pristine and well-cared for.

A fan of darker colors despite his highlights, the majority of his clothes lineup is a mixture of black and greys, an undershirt in black for his waistcoat in gray, though sporting the usual colorful blue jeans in most situations, boot-cut to not cover up a pair of brown shoes, full upper leather though not exactly the priciest if you cared enough to know that sort of thing.

For accessories, he's usually wearing a silver chain or two on his neck, and a pair of sunglasses hanging from the neck of his shirt. An assortment of small rubber armbands usually jiggling loosely on his wrists, mainly seeming to be freebies from occasional concerts. He also has a silver stud in his left ear, though lacks any other piercings. The only other notable difference to the average joe is his black fingernails.

Personality: Dakota is an enthusiastic and kindhearted individual, the sort to help you carry something when you're overburdened, or at least hold a door open. Simply walking away is something he isn't able to do easily, his usual joyful demeanor perhaps laying on the niceness a little thick sometimes, even if it's all genuine. One could consider him annoying, but he'd mostly brush this off depending on how harsh it's said. He understands personal space, and while he's happy to invade it for what he thinks is a good cause, he's also self-aware enough to realize enough is enough and back away when he's bothering someone.

One to overly romanticize a situation, occasionally he can come off as a bit of a ditz with his joyful antics. He finds momentary joy in small things, trying to stay optimistic. He's also a passionate soul, especially when it comes to music. The joy it brings to him and those around him is something irreplaceable, giving him life like nothing else. Recent developments have taken a lot of that away, but he's stubborn and determined enough to keep singing as a part of his life, even with the strife it causes.

Despite the positivity he likes to exert, attempting to stop him from enjoying his favorite things in life can lead to mild aggressiveness on his part: Wanting to push himself for the sake of his life's passion. Despite the fact he talks big however, he's not exactly brave enough to push himself too far for his own personal enjoyment, considering himself a coward for not putting himself on the line for what he loves. Not one to want to bother other people means he doesn't often confide in them, leading to a lot of pent up irritation that is boiling over at this current point in his life.

Regardless of his frustrations, he tries his best for other people. A friend that'd have your back, a person that will listen despite not knowing how to communicate about his own issues very well. He'd much rather pull other people out of feeling the same way he does by doing anything he can, than see them suffering as well. He's not so naive to think it's just as easy as giving a pep talk, though...

Bio: Dakota was born into a middle-class household, with a busy father and mother. This left him mostly raised by his grandmother, who gave him the love and support he needed to grow into a half-decent young man like he is today. Though his grandmother wasn't always the playful sort, instead trying to find distractions for the young boy, one of which was always effective was the radio. Music in general caught on with him from an early age, from him boogieing down in his living room as a five year old, to the actually musically interested boy he became as time passed.

He often sang around the house, while at the store, sometimes even in school which got him into trouble on occasion. He fiddled with multiple instruments over the years, but always found the most comfort with his singing voice, starting to look to express himself in any way he could. One such way was doing musical covers and uploading them online for others to see. (Under the username Rhetty) He wasn't astoundingly popular, but for being the older teen he was, it made him happy. This evolved into him getting into a small band (Simply called 'The Spark') with some friends, dividing his time between his online content and pulling off small gigs across town with his pals. It was a life worth living, and he appreciated it to no end.

On occasion, he would feel chest pains, or shortness of breath. Where others showed concern, he insisted he was fine and that nothing was wrong. He was simply tired from the performances they put on, is all. But uncertainty kept in his mind when it also happened around his home, his ever-older growing grandmother expressing her own worries. Feeling fine, or at least insisting to himself he was, he ignored such concerns to instead press on with his gigs.

This all started going downhill, unfortunately. A moment of pride, Dakota getting wound up over some words that lead to a competition with an opposing band. Not a huge event by any means, but to the groups involved it was serious business. He put his heart into his vocals, but was never intended to finish the event: The pain in his chest had been bad from the start, and only got worse the further in they got. Immense fatigue brought him to the ground, an ambulance being called, and thankfully responding in time to take in the boy and save his life.

The doctor said it was 'primary spontaneous pneumothorax', a lung puncture that they couldn't identify the exact cause of. It took 8 weeks of recovery for him to leave with instructions that hurt his soul. His singing career was on hold indefinitely, as too much work on his lungs after the incident could cause damage to his heart, or another puncture. He'd never sing again, at least in such a loud and vigorous fashion as he was passionate about. It was devastating, and left him feeling quite empty. He only hoped to find some sort of comfort once he was out of the hospital, though nothing of the sort happened.

His band left him behind. A subtle guise of him needing rest trying to block the louder fact that a low-performance vocalist was useless to them. Word traveled fast and nobody else wanted him, either. Growing frustrated, he's tried to keep his content online flowing smoothly along, but even that began to hit a snag as his condition keeps him from delivering on his usual schedule, finding his comments littered with numerous insults and complaints that only killed his energy further, making it hard to find any sort of comeback. Trapped between thinking of himself as weak and cowardly for not pushing himself harder, and being afraid of the effects of pushing him self in such a way, he hasn't yet found any sort of reprieve from these events.

He's come to Waterfront University in the hope of finding something else to do with his life, or at least be distracted by classes as to not waste his life just sitting around. He's been unable to focus since arriving, and doesn't seem to be making much progress on discovering an alternate lifepath for himself. Some might wonder if this was a waste of what resources he had, and that by the end he'd be just as lost as when he started. He could definitely see it as a possibility.

Scars: Check the literal scars on his torso. It's a reminder that what's under there is worthless to achieve his goals, and that he'll never amount to a singing star like he wanted to. Not able to do a full song cover or jog too far without nearly falling over from a need for air has lead him to losing the small popularity he had, and he now sits in the shadow of his former self, envious and upset at himself for being weak enough to let this happen. Especially since there's no fixing it back to pristine condition, meaning there's no road back to where he was.

Been hit with the approval button, so I figured I'd toss up the human portion of my CS here for peeps to see.

Without spoiling too much, my Persona will have Wind as it's element/resistance and be weak to Elec!

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Already know I'm here. Almost done with my Star Arcana submission, too, so I'll send that to you sooner than later.

World of Light

LOCATION:The Maw - The Depths, Underwater
WORD COUNT:614(+1 EXP)
MENTIONS: Bowser Jr

---

Though it'd taken some effort, they were finally able to begin their war path towards the flow controls. All the talk around him about this 'big monster thing' was getting him kind of concerned, some of the group seeming to leave as well, or at least Blazermate's heavier steps seemed to imply such. It made him realize that, despite the effort here, he wasn't really in much danger, was he? He wasn't exactly sticking his neck out at the moment, though honestly with the strength he currently had just thinking straight was just about too much to handle. There was a bit of respect for the others who remained action oriented even in these conditions. Though, if roles were reversed, he'd try his best too, he figured. Or, maybe hoped?

Regardless, he couldn't do a whole lot to respond to Junior once he picked up his signals on the BULL's camera. A gestured pincer his way as a sign he noticed, at the very least. But before long it was time to go. Mirage had no hesitation in diving into the depths, the BULL fully disappearing from view along with Duerage who offered a hammy salute like he was on a sinking ship, before being left with nothing but dark, murky water to deal with.

Mirage hardly noticed when the Mockingbird took the dive: He figured it'd stay atop the BULL but rather, it seemed to have it's own objective, or wanted to be alone. It quickly sank out of view for him, and left him mostly alone, though he tried to keep around Junior in case something went down. Unfortunately it was difficult, the BULL having to navigate the debris while the smaller submarine had a much easier time going about it. The BULL's light was a necessity to see under here, noting that if this water wasn't 'cursed' or something, then drinking it would probably kill you anyways, because of how damn dirty it had to be. The thought of water caused Mirage to bite at his dried lips, a little ping of desperation making him thirstier, despite the grossout.

Mirage caught something in his lights to distract from that: Disturbingly enough there was a corpse in the water, just drifting. It was pale, the skin pruned from the water, which was gross enough when you got out of the shower, let alone on a corpse. Seems like we weren't the first ones down here. He speculated, but was caught off guard as it's face, or stretch of free real estate on it's head that was supposed to be a face, was just empty. The disturbing sight caused Mirage's actual body to recoil, stumbling as he nearly fell off his shoebox. He didn't want to know why it didn't have a face, and he wasn't looking to have any of his friends end up like that. So he set it aside with minor navigation troubles: The BULL shifting between some pipes, Mirage flashing back to look at the body again out of paranoia, only to find it was gone.

Cold sweat leaked out from the helmet, Mirage feeling genuinely unnerved by the fact it had disappeared in such a short amount of time. "It just drifted away." He told himself, not wanting to press the matter further. Rather, he pushed on: Light from the BULL dimming as it made turns, trying to not alert the giant fish to their location. It's descent was slow, but steady. It hoped to reach the bottom a bit faster, though navigating the mess underwater was proving to make that more difficult than he originally thought. But with persistence, he'd manage to get down there! Or at least he hoped.

Mockingbird 'Duerage'

LOCATION: The Maw - The Depths, Underwater
WORD COUNT: 508
MENTIONS:

---

Duerage had used it's time sinking to the bottom to think. The conversation it had with Sakura was helpful, but there were a lot of issues it had the more it thought about the situation, growing more sad than anything. Just because there were two Mirage's, didn't mean there were two Evelyn Witt's. Two moms. Two Ramya's. Two Renee's. Would it's friends still be it's friends, even if it wasn't the original Mirage? Maybe Renee could help, actually. She had that whole 'alternate universe traveler' thing going on. Maybe she could find a world where Evelyn lost her last son. A place that could be filled in, in some way. Was that disrespecting to it's deceased self? Wrong to do, in general? probably didn't matter. Whatever the situation was to get home, that was the first task. And with this ship, it seemed like a hefty one.

Least Path would treat me the same. It mused, finding a little happiness in the thought of his tin-can friend. He was sort of a tin-can too, now, so maybe they'd get along better! Find enthusiasm in the little things, that was how Elliot rolled! But as usual, that enthusiasm was finding itself acting as a shield rather than just a source of joy. it'd never been deep-sea diving before, so this was actually pretty fun aside from the paranoia instilled in it from the thought of a huge monster being around here.

Traversal was easy enough. With it's firm grip it could easily pull itself up most obstacles, at a slow but steady pace. With such a fast descent, it mused that this would be pretty fast and they could get on out of here. But it seemed the waters had other plans, as there was a strange, somewhat faint glow coming in Duerage's direction. Focusing on it came to show it wasn't Junior's sub, either. Rather, it seemed to be some sort of round fish with huge teeth.Tch, nuts... It tried to think fast, taking in the area for a moment before shutting it's light off. Slowly, it moved off the path it was on, reaching out to try and find anything solid: Hand coming into connection with some old scrap that served as a bit of an obstacle, but also a fair enough wall to hunker down against for a second.

If I leave it, it could go after the others, or come back to me once I have my light on. Duerage thought, reaching back to the scrap behind it to snatch up any piece of metal it could get it's hands on. It managed to grab the remnants of some smaller pipe, pulling it out of the pile thankfully without causing the rest to fall. It wielded the pipe with the intent to lash out and stab the creature as it floated by. Heh, it wondered how Bloodhound would respond to this. probably something along the lines of yadda yadda, Félagi Fighter, yadda, slátra.

It tried to not let it's amusement distract it from the task at hand.