ProPro

Chaos Theory

Dang. Burrrrrrned. Well tough, bitch, Gwyn is still going so deal with it!

Chaos Theory

@Rune_Alchemist Best to avoid the one that will eat her. Just sayin'. :P

Chaos Theory

@Blu Very nice additions.

Worm - The Malfesant Throne

<Snipped quote by ProPro>

That is what I was referring to, and Vector since she seems like she wouldn't be compromised unless the right lever was used. Knight is on the maybe end of the spectrum.... we will see.

Also, @ProPro@Old Amsterdam I have seen some toxic relationships in my day but this.... this is scary. This relationship should be classified as a Class S threat, in 100% seriousness. This is about as scary as learning that Valkyrie is taking an interest in men at the end of worm. I can't wait to see how Praetor reacts to all this.

@SkinnyTy

#BestCompliment

Worm - The Malfesant Throne

<Snipped quote by SkinnyTy>

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

@Sickle-cell

Hey now, Hubert is very committed due to his personality! He's also just really nuts...

One Piece: New Horizons!

Aboard the King Crab

Things were not going fantastic on the King Crab. John Krabbe had managed to separate himself from the insane woman long enough to try to alert them as to the intense danger they were all in at that moment, but of the two women that had boarded his ship only one seemed to be the least bit reasonable about it. Could they not see the monster that Saban had become, causing havoc on their own ship?! That's when the bounty hunter was caught unaware. A large wrench flew from on high, clocking him square in the jaw and pinning him to the wall. Glancing up, he saw the culprit, that damned pirate he had stuffed away in the brig. Damn it all, he must have gotten out of his cage in all the commotion! Just how much damage had these bastards done to his glorious ship?!

That was no matter. Krabbe was only bruised by the attack. Compared to the insane woman, the wrench to his face was like a playground bully kicking sand. He reached up with his clawed arm, took hold of the giant engineering tool, and forced it off his face and out of the wall. "Dammit you idiots, I'm telling you there's no time! He will see us all as criminals to be killed with extreme prejudi-STOP DEFILING MY SHIP!" His words fell on deaf ears, as Krabbe was forced to defend himself against another of Feya's attacks. Using the big wrench he had appropriated as a baseball bat, he knocked the railing aside and harmlessly into the ocean. Then he took careful aim for Wafer D. Kite and hurled the wrench back at the pirate. "Here! You'll need this!" The wrench flew true, right back to its owner, but not with the sort of force you'd use to attack someone. It was being given back.

"Men, lower the Shell Shield, expose the cannons! Take aim for Saban and fire immediately!" What few remaining conscious crew members had been left did their best to limp and scatter around the ship, heading for the engineering controls. By the time the first one had gotten there, the console was already being manned by Shrimp Brigade Pink.

"Mon capitaine, the controls are damaged! We cannot lower the Shell Shield!" the sixth Brigade member cried out, fruitlessly banging on the console.

Grumbling, Krabbe pulled up a den den mushi to his mouth, the one he had been using to accidentally project himself over the loudspeaker the entire battle. "Dammit! Alright pirates, I don't like you and you don't like me, but here's the deal! Saban was born and raised deep in the Grand Line. He only ended up in the South Blue by a fluke accident! His original form is utterly insane, drunk on power and with the ego of a battle-crazy deity! I was able to convince him that by keeping himself split into a team using his devil fruit powers, that he could cover more ground and dispense more justice that way, but when he splits a piece of himself all his properties are split too. Intelligence, power, even his craziness. That's how I kept him under control! But now that you've forced him to reclaim his pieces into one body, he'll blindly kill everything in sight! We take him out, and we part ways, no questio-GURK!"

Krabbe's speech was cut off as he was knee'd in the back of the head by a Shrimp Brigade Red. A whole mess of Shrimp Brigade warriors had swung over to the King Crab and instantly reformed back into Shotaro Saban's original body. The hulking behemoth laughed a deep chuckle, splitting into his Vishnu form. Laughing the entire time, he began gunning down the sailors with impunity, swung his ball and chain down toward Feya, and thrust his trident so that one prong would hit Kite and another would strike Liliana.

---

Aboard the Rum Runner

The beast known as Shrimp Brigade Prime, Shotaro Saban, laughed a guttural roar as he attacked and defended himself from the crew of the Rum Runner. Oilburn Slick hadn't so much as moved, continuing to spew forth flames only for them to get put out by the vacuum strong forces of Saban's chainball. He could no longer continue firing his pistols at Boone, having run out of ammunition. That was a quick and easy fix, even if it left him open to the sharpshooting captain for a moment. Two more arms split off from the existing ones. The hands went to work grabbing the ammunition from his armored belt, refilled the guns, then the arms were recalled back into the others. As this was going on, the Rum Runners quickly went to work on a strategy that should hopefully defeat this massively powerful foe.

Caesar recovered from his experience as a human baseball long enough to begin hurling electro shocks at Saban with his Omnislash technique. The devil fruit freak found this amusing. If one of his weak split-selves could defend against it, then why would the idiot mink think it would work on him at full power? The two arms wielding the trident changed focus to intercept the shocks, neutralizing them using the rubber grip just as it had been when Caesar had battled Green earlier. All he had to do was defend himself perfectly until his guns reloaded, then they would all die. That's when Bonesword came flying through the air. Saban's many eyes easily spotted the skelekid coming at him, and even picked up on the extension to the sword. As with Caesar's assault he chuckled. It was pointless! The two arms covered in spiked knuckles rose up to intercept the sword slash. Just one arm would have been enough to grab all the way around the blade and toss the little pissant, but he used both arms. The two forces met head on as two of Saban's eyes narrowed on Bonesword with sadistic glee.

Without warning the ship began to list. Saban clearly hadn't anticipated this, being taken completely by surprise. Even so, his Anansi Form kept balance on the deck of the ship. The change in leverage put Bonesword at more of an advantage, but Saban was still strongest of all! "EVERYONE, GET AWAY FROM IT!" What?

BOOOOOOM!

Boone's explosive shot hit between many of Saban's legs, scorching his skin painfully. He reeled back at the force, completely losing his defense. The chainball faltered and for the first time flames struck Saban's body. The trident was thrown off and so multiple electros shocked him. Bonesword's strike powered through his defenses. Coupled with the force of the explosion and the listing ship, Anansi-Vishnu Saban was tossed backward over the railing! He had been excised from the Rum Runner, finally!

"Waru waru Monkey Barrel!" The huge man began to shrink in size as he fell back. One copy split from him, holding one another by the wrist. Another split, holding that one by the wrist. Another and another and another, they kept splitting into a long human chain! The last one manifested at the top of the Rum Runner's mast, taking hold of the ship. Their descent suddenly shifted into a swinging motion, one with only one possible destination: The King Crab.

"We take him out, and we part ways, no questio-GURK!" One of the Shrimp Brigade copies struck John Krabbe in the back of the head, then all were recalled back into a single fighter once again. Saban was still very much an active threat, only now he was terrorizing Feya and Lilliana.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

A bit late on my callouts right now, but everyone will still have the full 5 days to get a response up or to let me know why that's not viable. For the Wards, @solokolos@Lugubrious, and for The Jacks just @yoshua171 whom I understand was waiting for BC to post with Headhunter, which happened 2 days ago. For the Wards, just let me know if you'd rather be skipped since there's not a lot happening at this precise moment and you're just going over the final plan before showing up. If you'd like you can buff a potential post with their before-mission preparations too. Just a suggestion.

Worm - The Malfesant Throne

Replicant began breathing more heavily as Alice went on and on. His finger slipped on the needle, dribbling out small droplets of her blood. He had to literally shake his head to get himself back in the moment, to find the words he needed to address this woman properly. Wait, no, not a woman. Him. She was him now. She could manipulate microbes by will and was a shifter to boot? That's just plain unfair. He felt a hint of jealousy mixing into his infatuation. He had to actively work at manipulating the world's smallest living organisms, and here she was able to do some by instinct with more on top of that. Well, she couldn't possibly have the same depth of understanding that he did. At least that remasculated him, in his mind.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard of me. As I said in my introduction, I'm Replicant, tinker hero of the Protectorate. Every tinker has a focus, and mine is microbiology. I can see micro organisms with my naked eyes, which is how I could immediately spot how beautiful you are. The possibilities if we put our minds together, designing together, with my tinkering perfection and you duplicating and growing them exponentially... The breakthroughs we could accomplish. The milestones we could achieve, unimagined by science before this day!" Replicant stood up so fast his chair fell over, and thrust his fist into the air. "... It's a shame you've committed some serious crimes. I saw what you planted on the employees here. You supplanted the director and took control of this government establishment using your powers. You and I? We've got the kind of abilities that could easily get a kill order in situations like this."

Replicant appeared somber, saddened, and disheartened. Yes, all three, for just as with everything else this was acted out with intense drama. He had such a flair for putting on airs. "I'd be happy to discuss everything I've made. I would love nothing more than to collude together. But... You'll have to come with me. Either as a prisoner... Or seeking redemption as a HERO!" The tinker kicked up his fallen chair, flipping the piece of furniture through the air as it spun around no less than three times. With his left hand he clutched the top of the back support and swung it up as though it were some sort of bizarre four pronged polearm. Truly if this pose and that speech did not inspire the wom-er, man?-in front of him, than nothing would!

@Old Amsterdam

Worm - The Malfesant Throne

@ProProOh, and before I forget, which of us is actually controlling Anon's destination, here? =P

@Sickle-cell

Got me. He's just cruising around aimlessly until he hears something interesting. ;D

Chaos Theory

Gwyn Thatcher

Subject #: 64913755
Threat Level: 3⛥⛥⛥

Name: Gwyn Thatcher
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Date of Birth: August 4
Blood Type: AB+
Eye Color: Brown
Height/Weight: 5’9”/160lbs
Occupation: Student/Amatuer Photographer
Physical Description: Gwyn is a skinny white kid that almost looks malnourished. His brown hair is somewhat long and rather unkempt, dirty and messy at all times. While he dresses well, his mannerisms and physical behaviors don’t reflect the same level of formal appearance, with a poor slouch, awkward facial expressions, and general fidgeting. His cheekbones are very well defined, one could even argue attractive were they not connected to the rest of him. Everything about Gwyn’s appearance screams “loner.”

Personality: Gwyn Thatcher is not the young man he once was. His past experiences have led to heavy trauma, creating an incredibly awkward young adult. He speaks mostly in mumbles and keeps his words short unless absolutely necessary, and avoids contact with others. Group projects are the worst as he tries to contribute, but is inevitably pushed aside by stronger personalities who then later blame him for not pulling his own weight. However in situations of fight or flight, interestingly he almost always chooses to fight, despite not being built or trained for a skirmish. This is because of his PTSD, which can also cause him to freeze up in certain nervous situations, or drive him into a red rage.

While he used to be confident, outgoing, and have a love for nature and the outdoors, Gwyn now fears being alone for too long too far away from society. He’s replaced life experiences with facsimiles of experiences by way of his photography. Now he prefers to take snapshots of the nature he used to explore, and the people he would have easily conversed with. Most of the time he doesn’t ask them in advance. Most of the time he’s hiding. When it’s discovered, this comes off as extremely creepy.

Background: Born in the Great Lakes State of Michigan, Gwyn grew up with some heavy and harsh winters, but gorgeous scenery. He matured from a young age and was a very independent sort of kid, wanting to do everything himself and rush the process of growing up. His parents were proud that he developed so quickly, but also remained somewhat disappointed. They had wanted to feel the joy of raising their only child for a while longer, yet he wanted nothing to do that. By the time he was seven he was baiting his own fishing line and cleaning his catches. Once he was ten he shot and killed his first deer. His academics remained mostly average during this time, not for lack of trying. While in terms of personal development and survival skills he excelled, the only area in school he seemed to have any real aptitude for was making friends. Unfortunately it were these very same friends that would get him into the biggest trouble of his life.

During winter break when Gwyn was fifteen, some of his older friends and he decided to go on a surprise camping trip. Without telling anybody where they were going, and with only a goodbye note on the refridgerator door for his parents, they were off to the untamed wilderness! The group of friends crossed a lake to get to the island they had decided to have their awesome week, and things were going pretty great. After a few days though, a coldsnap hit the area and froze the lake. They couldn’t row back to shore, and the ice was too thin to walk across, so they were effectively stuck on the island. Another few days passed, and food was running low. They searched all around, but the island was too small to support enough of an ecosystem to sustain them. Days turned to weeks as the frigid air gave no sign of warming. Cold, hungry, desperate and delirious, that’s when it happened. That’s when the most important moment of Gwyn’s life struck. All he remembers is the horrific howling of some terrible beast on the wind, and blacking out from hunger. When he came to, all that remained of his friends were bones and the tatters of clothing. Warm blood had splattered all around their camp ground, melting the snow and coloring the ice. When he was finally found by a rescue team, he had been alone with the remains for nearly another week, and this horror took its toll on his mind.

What he does not remember is that in his desperation, Gwyn turned to cannibalism. He led one of his friends away from camp under the impression that they would look for a bird or hibernating squirrel to eat, then killed him. In accordance with the old Native American myths, those who turn to cannibalism in the presence of the wendigo spirit become possessed by the demon, and so he transformed. In his hunger induced rage he killed and devoured every single one of his friends until there was nothing left, and then… Nothing. He remembered none of this, perhaps a blessing, and was alone.

Gwyn required psychiatric help for many months afterward, and he still sees a professional therapist even now. In order to get away from the media presence, as well as to give Gwyn a new environment that wouldn’t remind him of the horrible ordeal he had suffered, the family decided together to move out of state and ultimately ended up in Innsmouth. Once they arrived, they found that their son was not the same young man he was before. He had trouble socializing anymore, he simply couldn’t relate to people and the trauma always seemed fresh on his mind. He refused to spend extensive time outdoors anymore and took up a new hobby instead: photography. The Thatchers, urged by Gwyn’s therapist, encouraged his new hobby and bought him the best camera they could afford after the move.

It’s been about a year and a half since Gwyn Thatcher first came to live in Innsmouth, and sad to say he hasn’t improved a significant deal. Occasionally he has relapses and falls into a gibbering wreck after experiencing a total memory blackout. His parents have yet to catch on that these episodes only happen after he has been exposed to human blood. About two months ago Gwyn had a, shall we call it, an altercation with Suzanne Moore. She was leading cheer practice and he was photographing it. Without consent. Hidden behind the bleachers. He was simply afraid of coming out to be part of the event, but when her boyfriend and her friends discovered him there, well let’s just say everyone was less than thrilled. They called him a creep, a pervert, a psycho, and threatened to break his camera. Gwyn was pushed too hard, literally, and bit back. He punched the jerk jock right in the face, cutting his lip a bit and drawing blood. Suddenly Gwyn gave pause, not knowing why. Suzie’s boyfriend didn’t exactly give let the opportunity slip by and so he wailed on Gwyn.

Gwyn took the blows, then let out an ear-splitting roar of a scream before running away. They let him go, figuring he got what he deserved and chasing after him wasn’t worth the effort. It was this same callous apathy that saved their lives, though local news reported the school’s mascot had gone missing that day… In any case, Suzie herself went missing not too long after that. While nobody really knows for sure who or why or how, a lot of people are pointing fingers at the weird kid, citing just how strange he is and remembering what had happened between them so recently.


Possessions: Nikon D3400 Camera with multiple accessories
2003 Volkswagon Jetta
Backpack
Swiss Army Knife
Compass

Mundane Skills: Skilled hiker/explorer/survivalist
Good sprinter
Amatuer photographer
Excels at being socially awkward and creepy
Special Traits: Spirit of the Wendigo: Gwyn is possessed by the essence of the mythological beast the wendigo, the spirit of cannibalism. When he is exposed to the smell or sight of human blood (other than his own) the beast takes hold and comes out, physically transforming his body and coming out to hunt. His form as the wendigo is a truly monstrous being, standing at around ten feet tall, discounting the antlers. It looks like a horrific emaciated cross of man and elk, with skin pulled taut across bone and muscle, and leaving bloodied entrails exposed for the world to see. This form is driven entirely by the need to devour flesh and meat, and comes with some powerful abilities, not the least of which being its sharp claws and large horns, but also animal like senses for tracking, stealth, and camouflage. He will remain in this state until he feeds, devouring the meat of another living creature, after which he returns to normal with absolutely no memories of the events that transpired. To him these transformations are total blackouts.
Spirit of Winter Night: The wendigo is a winter spirit, and known to hunt at night. As such, Gwyn’s monstrous form’s power is tied directly to the season and Day cycles, at its most powerful in the winter night and weakest on a summer day.
Strength of the Beast: The wendigo is an incredibly strong monster. On an average day it is capable of tearing a car door clean off the vehicle and, with some significant effort, chuck it like a discuss. At its weakest, it performs slightly above what a peak human athlete is capable of, but at its most powerful it rends steel with its claws, though not without some serious effort.
Winter Wind: Some stories depict the wendigo as moving as swiftly as the winter wind. These stories are true, though only when it is at its peak power. At its weakest it can outrun any mortal man, and on average is able to keep pace with most vehicles.
Human Intelligence: The beast is driven by hunger and hunts on instinct and primal urge, but mistake its intellect as equal a common animal to your own peril. The wendigo spirit represents cannibalism, and so it holds all the intelligence of a human being, including the ability to speak.
Bottomless Hunger: Everytime the wendigo takes hold of Gwyn, the beast’s hunger grows. However should it kill prey larger than its current hunger, it won't mind and shall consume until nothing remains. There is no limit to how much meat a wendigo can devour.
Icy Chill of Death: Wherever the wendigo goes, it carries with it a cold air. It leaves frost in its footsteps and chills everything around it, as though it were devouring the warmth of life just by existing. This usually isn't a problem for its prey unless it touches them. But then they're probably already dead.