Leaves@Crusader Lord@Shizuochan Both your characters are fully reviewed, and approved. I like them. Move them on over to the character tab and you can join in. :)
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Pierce the Heavens with your spoon!
STATUS: Starting new YouTube show, Hell Yeah Gaming! Lots of work to do still, but getting me to 100 subs for a custom URL would be of tremendous help! youtube.com/user/DarthGlamd… 7 yrs ago
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Starting new YouTube show, Hell Yeah Gaming! Lots of work to do still, but getting me to 100 subs for a custom URL would be of tremendous help! youtube.com/user/DarthGlamd…
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Hachirou landed with an audible thud, then stood up from a crouched position to take a standard boxing stance. His opponent, Irons Greave, grinned and put up his own defense. The two were ready to begin duking it out, when the two pirate referees from before reappeared. Both had multiple amusing injuries, including black eyes, bloody noses, and bandaids slapped haphazardly all over their faces.
“The second contest is about to begin! In the red corner we have the Buccaneer Pirate’s top fighter! Hailing from Clock Town in the South Blue, the shirtless wonder, Irooooooons ‘Knockout’ Greeeeeeave!” The announcement was met with much applause, whistling, and cheering.
“In the blue corner,” began the second ref, “Some muscular guy nobody really cares about-” A loud, sassy “Blow it out your asshole!” could be heard coming from Trickshot Jo’. “-Navigator of the Krunch Pirates, it’s Hachirou H. Hachirou!” Just as Greave’s announcement was met with praise and adulation, Hachirou’s was met with boos and hisses.
“Last call for betting! Place your bets now, window is closing!”
“Peanuts! Popcorn! Don’t miss out on the fight because you had to get a snack in the middle of it!”
“Llllllllllet’s get ready to rumbllllllle!” Three clacks on the bell sounded off the first round.
Neither opponent wasted any time in jumping straight in for a brawl. The two fighters met at the center of the ring and let loose their fists of fury. The strength and speed of both men quickly proved intense. Their arms appeared to completely vanish into a blur, while the force of the blows blew Hachirou’s hair back by the sheer air force. Yet neither showed any signs of taking any hits yet. A keen eye could make out the individual movements, and would notice that not a single blow had been landed in several seconds of the fight so far. Every punch, every strike was countered, parried, dodged, or otherwise negated.
“Oh wow,” commented one of the Buccaneers. “I can’t even follow this! Did their arms just turn invisible?”
“No, Greave is just that fast,” said another. “But to see another boxer be able to match him blow for blow? It’s unreal.”
”Hachish ish-hic!-holding back,” slurred the drunken voice of Wutong Ken, eyes completely closed. He appeared to not be paying any sort of attention to the match at all.
”Omnomnom! He does like gauging his opponents! But really, to limit himself this much?” Runch stood up and cupped his hands over his mouth to cry out, ”Mr. Hachirou! It’s time to stop behaving like a kid playing with his spoon! We can’t waste any extra energy on this!”
“What? Pfft, quit kidding around,” waved off one of the pirates sitting nearby. “There’s no way he could be holding back. I mean look, he’s barely keeping up with our prize fighter! Yeah! Heheheh.”
Runch only gave the man a knowing smirk, taking his seat back. In the ring, the fight kept going with tremendous intensity. Each fighter glared knives at the other, looking for that one opening to take advantage. Without hesitation, Hachirou broke off from his opponent. ”Understood, cap’n.” He then addressed his opponent. ”I apologize if I have offended you by holding back. That won’t be a problem anymore.”
Greave kept his guard up. ”No worries. I’ve been holding back too. Let’s see what you’ve got!”
Hachirou grinned, a rare showing of emotion for the normally stoic man. ”Don’t feel too bad when you wind up on the floor… For that is where all go when they kneel before the king!” His final words were not so much shouted as roared, echoing with a beastly guttural tone. Hachirou’s muscles rippled, growing intensely in size, bulging! Golden fur grew from his skin, as his black hair changed color, looking more like a mane than before. His irises compressed vertically, like a cat’s, and claws grew from his hands. The man had completely transformed before everyone’s eyes, becoming a lion man.
Hachirou let loose another roar which shook the boxing area, and even the stands everyone sat upon. The pirates looked on in fear and awe. Many blinked and missed what came next, as the lion man shot forward like a bullet, his bulking clawed feet tearing up the mat behind him. His fist planted hard in Greave’s gut. ”UGH!” Greave shot back to the ropes, doubled over from the sudden blow. His saliva covered a good portion of Hachirou’s arm, and the floor as well, launched right from his mouth. But the other boxer didn’t throw in the towel yet. No, he was far from done.
Hachirou launched forward for another strike, aiming right for his opponent’s head. Just before making contact, the attack was caught by Greave’s left hand. ”Heh. Strong.” He squeezed, clenching down on Hachirou’s fist. The lion man grit his teeth in pain. ”But not strong enough.” Greave raised his head up, back into stance. His face was dominated by a wide grin as he lifted up his right fist. Then he slammed it hard into Hachirou’s gut.
”BUGH!” The air was knocked out of him, but Greave wasn’t done yet. He punched again, slamming his knuckles into the lion man’s face. Then again, in the chest, then the gut, the face, he kept slamming his fist hard into the Krunch pirate. Hachirou couldn’t back away with his hand gripped and pinned the way that it was, but retreat never crossed his mind. He had had enough. He raised his left arm through the assault, and thrust it forward with incredible force!
”Slow!” Greave pulled back his fighting hand, and knocked aside Hachi’s attack with an open palm, never actually making contact with the lion man’s skin.
Hachirou was surprised, but only for a fraction of a second. His eyes narrowed in determination, and he opened his mouth to release a powerful roar! Greave grit his teeth to fight through it, but after five seconds he was forced to release Hachirou and cover his ears. The mighty roar had drawn blood.
”Cheap,” he commented, reeling back and hearing only a ringing sensation.
”If it works, it works.”
”What did you sa-OOMPH!” With feline reflexes and speed befitting the king of the jungle, Hachirou wasted no time in taking advantage of his opponent’s handicap. He powered through the pain of his own bruises to unleash a flurry of tremendous punches directly to Greave’s face, chest, and gut. Blows struck like machinegun fire, knocking the smaller man around like a rag doll. Up and down, left to right, back and forth.
Greave was a bloodied mess by the time he recovered enough to roll off the side and put up his fists again. He spat a large amount of blood over the side of the ring, then glared. ”Now you’ve really pissed me off.” Despite being several feet away, Greave threw a punch. No projectile was emitted, no contact had been made, but Hachi was knocked back all the same. This time it was Hachi’s turn to glare. He took a step forward to close the distance, but was thrown back by another long distance punch. Hachi grunted, then took another step. Again he was knocked back by some invisible force from Greave’s punch.
”Impressive, huh? My punches don’t lose any of their power over a minimum of eight meters. Those close up hits are my Second Hand punches. Now you’re experiencing my Minute Hand strike.” He threw a double punch with both arms, the force of which bowled Hachi over. The Krunch pirate nearly tumbled out of the arena, saving himself by grabbing hold of the ropes and swinging back into place.
”Hrm. You fight by shaping the air with the force of your fists.” He held up his right hand, and clenched it. ”You aren’t the only one. But yours pales when compared to my mastery.”
”Then let’s put that to the test.” The Buccaneer widened his stance, and swept his left hand forward in a circle, performing a form of kata.
”You are a gazelle.” Hachi widened his stance as well, planting both fists at his side. ”I am the king of beasts!”
Both thrust their fists forward at the same time, displaying different techniques. ”Ultimate Minute Hand!” ”Juuōken!”
Hachi roared loud as he unleashed his attack. Greave’s strike shot forward as a shapeless ball of air. Hachi’s vocalized roar sent ripples and vibrations through the air to match with his own fist strike. The two complimented one another, forming together seamlessly, creating an entirely new shape for the entire audience to witness.
”Is that a… Lion?! No! No! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO
The lion swallowed Greave’s own attack whole, blasting forward for its master. It struck Greave head on, maw gaping wide, and sent the man rocketing back. He snapped straight through the ropes around the boxing arena, right into the solid rock wall, and even straight through that!
“Uh… Well, we can’t confirm that ‘Knockout’ Greave has lost consciousness, but…”
“Yeah, uh… I think that we can safely say that, uh…”
“The winner is Hachirou of the Krunch Pirates!”
Hachi grunted, spitting out a small amount of blood. ”Looks like I used too much power. I said he’d be kneeling on the floor.”
“The second contest is about to begin! In the red corner we have the Buccaneer Pirate’s top fighter! Hailing from Clock Town in the South Blue, the shirtless wonder, Irooooooons ‘Knockout’ Greeeeeeave!” The announcement was met with much applause, whistling, and cheering.
“In the blue corner,” began the second ref, “Some muscular guy nobody really cares about-” A loud, sassy “Blow it out your asshole!” could be heard coming from Trickshot Jo’. “-Navigator of the Krunch Pirates, it’s Hachirou H. Hachirou!” Just as Greave’s announcement was met with praise and adulation, Hachirou’s was met with boos and hisses.
“Last call for betting! Place your bets now, window is closing!”
“Peanuts! Popcorn! Don’t miss out on the fight because you had to get a snack in the middle of it!”
“Llllllllllet’s get ready to rumbllllllle!” Three clacks on the bell sounded off the first round.
Neither opponent wasted any time in jumping straight in for a brawl. The two fighters met at the center of the ring and let loose their fists of fury. The strength and speed of both men quickly proved intense. Their arms appeared to completely vanish into a blur, while the force of the blows blew Hachirou’s hair back by the sheer air force. Yet neither showed any signs of taking any hits yet. A keen eye could make out the individual movements, and would notice that not a single blow had been landed in several seconds of the fight so far. Every punch, every strike was countered, parried, dodged, or otherwise negated.
“Oh wow,” commented one of the Buccaneers. “I can’t even follow this! Did their arms just turn invisible?”
“No, Greave is just that fast,” said another. “But to see another boxer be able to match him blow for blow? It’s unreal.”
”Hachish ish-hic!-holding back,” slurred the drunken voice of Wutong Ken, eyes completely closed. He appeared to not be paying any sort of attention to the match at all.
”Omnomnom! He does like gauging his opponents! But really, to limit himself this much?” Runch stood up and cupped his hands over his mouth to cry out, ”Mr. Hachirou! It’s time to stop behaving like a kid playing with his spoon! We can’t waste any extra energy on this!”
“What? Pfft, quit kidding around,” waved off one of the pirates sitting nearby. “There’s no way he could be holding back. I mean look, he’s barely keeping up with our prize fighter! Yeah! Heheheh.”
Runch only gave the man a knowing smirk, taking his seat back. In the ring, the fight kept going with tremendous intensity. Each fighter glared knives at the other, looking for that one opening to take advantage. Without hesitation, Hachirou broke off from his opponent. ”Understood, cap’n.” He then addressed his opponent. ”I apologize if I have offended you by holding back. That won’t be a problem anymore.”
Greave kept his guard up. ”No worries. I’ve been holding back too. Let’s see what you’ve got!”
Hachirou grinned, a rare showing of emotion for the normally stoic man. ”Don’t feel too bad when you wind up on the floor… For that is where all go when they kneel before the king!” His final words were not so much shouted as roared, echoing with a beastly guttural tone. Hachirou’s muscles rippled, growing intensely in size, bulging! Golden fur grew from his skin, as his black hair changed color, looking more like a mane than before. His irises compressed vertically, like a cat’s, and claws grew from his hands. The man had completely transformed before everyone’s eyes, becoming a lion man.
Hachirou let loose another roar which shook the boxing area, and even the stands everyone sat upon. The pirates looked on in fear and awe. Many blinked and missed what came next, as the lion man shot forward like a bullet, his bulking clawed feet tearing up the mat behind him. His fist planted hard in Greave’s gut. ”UGH!” Greave shot back to the ropes, doubled over from the sudden blow. His saliva covered a good portion of Hachirou’s arm, and the floor as well, launched right from his mouth. But the other boxer didn’t throw in the towel yet. No, he was far from done.
Hachirou launched forward for another strike, aiming right for his opponent’s head. Just before making contact, the attack was caught by Greave’s left hand. ”Heh. Strong.” He squeezed, clenching down on Hachirou’s fist. The lion man grit his teeth in pain. ”But not strong enough.” Greave raised his head up, back into stance. His face was dominated by a wide grin as he lifted up his right fist. Then he slammed it hard into Hachirou’s gut.
”BUGH!” The air was knocked out of him, but Greave wasn’t done yet. He punched again, slamming his knuckles into the lion man’s face. Then again, in the chest, then the gut, the face, he kept slamming his fist hard into the Krunch pirate. Hachirou couldn’t back away with his hand gripped and pinned the way that it was, but retreat never crossed his mind. He had had enough. He raised his left arm through the assault, and thrust it forward with incredible force!
”Slow!” Greave pulled back his fighting hand, and knocked aside Hachi’s attack with an open palm, never actually making contact with the lion man’s skin.
Hachirou was surprised, but only for a fraction of a second. His eyes narrowed in determination, and he opened his mouth to release a powerful roar! Greave grit his teeth to fight through it, but after five seconds he was forced to release Hachirou and cover his ears. The mighty roar had drawn blood.
”Cheap,” he commented, reeling back and hearing only a ringing sensation.
”If it works, it works.”
”What did you sa-OOMPH!” With feline reflexes and speed befitting the king of the jungle, Hachirou wasted no time in taking advantage of his opponent’s handicap. He powered through the pain of his own bruises to unleash a flurry of tremendous punches directly to Greave’s face, chest, and gut. Blows struck like machinegun fire, knocking the smaller man around like a rag doll. Up and down, left to right, back and forth.
Greave was a bloodied mess by the time he recovered enough to roll off the side and put up his fists again. He spat a large amount of blood over the side of the ring, then glared. ”Now you’ve really pissed me off.” Despite being several feet away, Greave threw a punch. No projectile was emitted, no contact had been made, but Hachi was knocked back all the same. This time it was Hachi’s turn to glare. He took a step forward to close the distance, but was thrown back by another long distance punch. Hachi grunted, then took another step. Again he was knocked back by some invisible force from Greave’s punch.
”Impressive, huh? My punches don’t lose any of their power over a minimum of eight meters. Those close up hits are my Second Hand punches. Now you’re experiencing my Minute Hand strike.” He threw a double punch with both arms, the force of which bowled Hachi over. The Krunch pirate nearly tumbled out of the arena, saving himself by grabbing hold of the ropes and swinging back into place.
”Hrm. You fight by shaping the air with the force of your fists.” He held up his right hand, and clenched it. ”You aren’t the only one. But yours pales when compared to my mastery.”
”Then let’s put that to the test.” The Buccaneer widened his stance, and swept his left hand forward in a circle, performing a form of kata.
”You are a gazelle.” Hachi widened his stance as well, planting both fists at his side. ”I am the king of beasts!”
Both thrust their fists forward at the same time, displaying different techniques. ”Ultimate Minute Hand!” ”Juuōken!”
Hachi roared loud as he unleashed his attack. Greave’s strike shot forward as a shapeless ball of air. Hachi’s vocalized roar sent ripples and vibrations through the air to match with his own fist strike. The two complimented one another, forming together seamlessly, creating an entirely new shape for the entire audience to witness.
”Is that a… Lion?! No! No! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
The lion swallowed Greave’s own attack whole, blasting forward for its master. It struck Greave head on, maw gaping wide, and sent the man rocketing back. He snapped straight through the ropes around the boxing arena, right into the solid rock wall, and even straight through that!
”AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!”
The Buccaneer fighter fell hundreds of feet into the ocean. The entire pirate collective sat in utter shock, jaws literally on the floor. Several seconds passed by before the referees remembered to say something.“Uh… Well, we can’t confirm that ‘Knockout’ Greave has lost consciousness, but…”
“Yeah, uh… I think that we can safely say that, uh…”
“The winner is Hachirou of the Krunch Pirates!”
Hachi grunted, spitting out a small amount of blood. ”Looks like I used too much power. I said he’d be kneeling on the floor.”
@ProPro Is the player base here still rather active too?
Though i gotta say Jotaro and Joseph are my fav's. An odd counterbalance to each other, our tastes are. XD
And where would i go to ask about potential ideas for powers, were i to want to discuss such a thing?
Yes, the player base is quite active. This game has some lulls here and there but make no mistake. It is going strong. As for discussing power ideas, I strongly encourage you to hop into the discord server, where we can give you a guest role. Then you can discuss to your heart's content with myself, my coGMs, and the player base about your ideas and bounce them around.
And Jotaro is awful I cannot stand him I do not understand why he is so popular.
Samuel's stomach lurched as soon as he saw what he had just pulled from his pocket. Not because of the disgust he held for the thing itself, but for what it meant that he was holding it in the palm of his hand. Somehow this filthy person, this thing could recognize and manifest the Murder. But how was such a thing possible? Samuel could not detect anything supernatural about the man. Cautious amusement rot away almost instantaneously, becoming something putrid. The disgust Sam had was for this bizarre merchant. He could not bring himself to trust this cretin. Not under these circumstances. Samuel placed the Murder back into his pocket, where hopefully it would take its rightful place.
"I don't know who the fuck you are," Sam spat, "But you are asking me to give you my soul. I don't want to be a monster, but without my soul I'm a husk. You disgusting, filthy demon, I shall not be the victim of your Faustian pact today!" He made sure to maintain eye contact the entire time, calling forth the primal fears from the souls of all mankind. Whatever this creature was, Samuel was going to ensure that he felt the guilt of thousands. He would ensure this merchant understood that he Deserves This.
@ProPro This place looks cool, reminds me of a superhero RP i was involved with on fanfiction(dot)net a long time ago. Ah, nostalgia.
Er, but right now i've simply come by to ask questions, if that's ok. :)
1. What the plot up to this point, if...there is a brief enough summary for things anywho. XD
2. What sort of tech-related powers/OC's are there currently involved in things?
3. *strikes a manly pose* "Your next line is: 'Joseph is best jojo!'."
Well hey there, good to see a new face! I’d be happy to address your questions.
1) There are 2 main storylines following the Wards and the Jacks (villain group), which occasionally touch and will eventually converge into a big main story involving everyone. Everyone not part of these two groups have their own individual storylines. Thus far the major events can be summed up by reading the “media” reports listed on the 0th post in the IC tab.
2) Most tech related powers can be found by purusing the approved characters. The only tinker that isn’t listed there is the NPC Named Decoy, who specializes in communications technology and interfaces. Other examples I can think of off the top of my head are copying videogame tech, and cybernetic weapon prosthetics.
3) Joseph is the best JoJo-wait, how did he know what I was going to say?! NOOOO!
But I’m all seriousness, Jonathan and Josuke are my favorites, not counting my OC JoJo.
Launcher returned to her seat in the stands, while her associates booed and jeered at Slick's victory. It seemed that while she could do no wrong and they held her on a pedestal regardless of circumstances, the same was not afforded to the man that beat her at her own game. The booing grew louder and louder, followed by a throwing of popcorn and peanuts. Just when it looked like a fight was about to break out...
BOOM!
The deafening roar of a cannon swept the hall, and a hole was torn through the ceiling. Everyone immediately turned their attention to the island's master, captain AR-36 "Bullet" Bill. For some strange reason his mouth seemed to be expelling smoke. "That's enough! Now this attitude is completely unacceptable! If'n yer so pissed on account a' our loss, then let's see one o'you step up an' do better! Anybody? Di'nt think so. Remember, findin' strong pirates is the whole reason we put together this competition. Now anybody have a problem with that?" Not a single soul uttered a sound. None, that is, except for the man in the dark coat and top hat, who snickered in a raspy voice. Evidently this was hilarious.
"Good. Now then..." The Buccaneer's captain scanned the stands for the next of his officers, before resting his gaze on the shirtless man with the clock tattoo. "Alright, yer up, Greave." A silence filled the room as each of the Buccaneers exchanged looks, followed by slowly escalating whispers. The tattooed man stood up,popped his neck, rolled his shoulders, then gave a polite bow to his captain. Unlike his crewmate, Greave did not give a flashy entrance as he descended the stairs into the main hall. He did not signal the mooks with a word or fingersnap as Launcher did. They simply knew what to do and went to work, cleaning up the dodgeball court and replacing it with a large matted ring, cordoned off by a series of ropes. It was a boxing ring.
Greave turned to everyone on the stands and addressed them, speaking barely a whisper, yet the intensity of his face seemed to imply that he was in fact yelling. "Who is brave enough to get in the ring with me for a boxing match? No blows below the belt, no points, victory on knockout!"
Bonekid had already volunteered for the next bout, but before he could rise to the challenge Hachirou stood up. "Apologies, kid, but you're a swordsman. If we're going to box..." He dramatically tore off his coat, throwing it up into the air where it was quickly caught by Runch. "Then we need a strong fist fighter. Besides, we can't let you Red Rums have all the fun. I've got my own pride as a Krunch. Right, cap'n?"
Runch could only respond with happy blubbering tears and a thumbs up, which gave the Krunch Krew's navigator all the validation he needed to hop over the railing to land directly in the boxing ring.
Smith seemed to contemplate Dirk's words for a moment as he moved the bodies of the two unconscious guards. Their legs dragged comically along the stone ground as the ninja stashed them around the corner, just off to the side of one of the castle's towers. "Probably a bad idea. If these jokers find that we've killed some of them they'll blow apart the ships for sure. Then it won't matter how long it takes to log this island on the log pose, because we couldn't leave." Either he completely missed that it was a joke, or Dirk didn't sound like he was joking. Either way, the idea was shot down.
"Let's take a look in here," he suggested, gesturing to the wooden door leading inside the tower. He opened it slowly, cautiously, but one look inside revealed that the caution was unwarranted, for the room was empty. It appeared to be some manner of observation post. Inside was a telescope pointed toward the ocean, and a radio station setup with a large den den mushi. Several logbooks were stacked on a nearby bookshelf, while the back wall had been emblazoned with a large marine logo and the words G-12, both of which had black paint crossing them out.
"I guess they saw us coming long before we ever spotted this island," Smitth observed, noting the telescope's positioning.
BOOM!
The deafening roar of a cannon swept the hall, and a hole was torn through the ceiling. Everyone immediately turned their attention to the island's master, captain AR-36 "Bullet" Bill. For some strange reason his mouth seemed to be expelling smoke. "That's enough! Now this attitude is completely unacceptable! If'n yer so pissed on account a' our loss, then let's see one o'you step up an' do better! Anybody? Di'nt think so. Remember, findin' strong pirates is the whole reason we put together this competition. Now anybody have a problem with that?" Not a single soul uttered a sound. None, that is, except for the man in the dark coat and top hat, who snickered in a raspy voice. Evidently this was hilarious.
"Good. Now then..." The Buccaneer's captain scanned the stands for the next of his officers, before resting his gaze on the shirtless man with the clock tattoo. "Alright, yer up, Greave." A silence filled the room as each of the Buccaneers exchanged looks, followed by slowly escalating whispers. The tattooed man stood up,popped his neck, rolled his shoulders, then gave a polite bow to his captain. Unlike his crewmate, Greave did not give a flashy entrance as he descended the stairs into the main hall. He did not signal the mooks with a word or fingersnap as Launcher did. They simply knew what to do and went to work, cleaning up the dodgeball court and replacing it with a large matted ring, cordoned off by a series of ropes. It was a boxing ring.
Greave turned to everyone on the stands and addressed them, speaking barely a whisper, yet the intensity of his face seemed to imply that he was in fact yelling. "Who is brave enough to get in the ring with me for a boxing match? No blows below the belt, no points, victory on knockout!"
Bonekid had already volunteered for the next bout, but before he could rise to the challenge Hachirou stood up. "Apologies, kid, but you're a swordsman. If we're going to box..." He dramatically tore off his coat, throwing it up into the air where it was quickly caught by Runch. "Then we need a strong fist fighter. Besides, we can't let you Red Rums have all the fun. I've got my own pride as a Krunch. Right, cap'n?"
Runch could only respond with happy blubbering tears and a thumbs up, which gave the Krunch Krew's navigator all the validation he needed to hop over the railing to land directly in the boxing ring.
Smith seemed to contemplate Dirk's words for a moment as he moved the bodies of the two unconscious guards. Their legs dragged comically along the stone ground as the ninja stashed them around the corner, just off to the side of one of the castle's towers. "Probably a bad idea. If these jokers find that we've killed some of them they'll blow apart the ships for sure. Then it won't matter how long it takes to log this island on the log pose, because we couldn't leave." Either he completely missed that it was a joke, or Dirk didn't sound like he was joking. Either way, the idea was shot down.
"Let's take a look in here," he suggested, gesturing to the wooden door leading inside the tower. He opened it slowly, cautiously, but one look inside revealed that the caution was unwarranted, for the room was empty. It appeared to be some manner of observation post. Inside was a telescope pointed toward the ocean, and a radio station setup with a large den den mushi. Several logbooks were stacked on a nearby bookshelf, while the back wall had been emblazoned with a large marine logo and the words G-12, both of which had black paint crossing them out.
"I guess they saw us coming long before we ever spotted this island," Smitth observed, noting the telescope's positioning.
Marque de Bourdeaux
The danger was immediate and credible. Marque had to admit to himself that these were larger and more ferocious than any wolves he had come to know! Could tale and story have been true? Word of the Wolfborn had been but legend as far as the wordsmith was previously concerned, but one tended to question legend once one could stare it in the eye. The legend stayed back, for a time, cautious of the actor's chosen armament. Amusing, in a way, the creature needn't have been so cautious had it known that the weapon's wielder had no great skill with it beyond flailing as a young babe with his rattle. Inexperienced though he was, Marque could not afford to let it show, and thus put forth a brave face. For it was his great talent to be that which he was not, and in this moment he needed to appear strong and great.
Another of the wolf creatures engaged the knight, but Marque daren't take attention from his own primal problem, lest his flesh become intimately acquainted with fang. Once a third creature made an entrance, Marque could no longer focus on his own, for it hath wrought chaos upon the lame and his physician. "Mister Lorenzo!" Marque gave up ground to take a position new, keeping his own beast in sight whilst moving to protect his fallen comrade, lest the beasts feed upon the weakest of the pack.
Wards and Other Heroes: Charity Event Begin
@Old Amsterdam@Gardevoiran@Lugubrious@solokolos@yoshua171@BCTheEntity@t2wave@LemonZest1337
Epsilon only muttered out a small, “thanks” in regards to Inkscape’s compliment. The Protectorate leader would have liked to continue the conversation, but he didn’t want to make the young girl any more uncomfortable than she already was. ”Keep up the good work.” He pat her back with a slimy tentacle, though the gesture felt warm and had weight behind it, like a real human hand. Inkscape then wandered off to have a conversation with Noble, which could hardly be called surprising. The two were well known to be dating.
Meanwhile, Furnace was still rubbing his wrist, destressing from the carpal tunnel, next to Hermes. The new Protectorate member still felt a bit taken aback by the famous hero’s comment. “Just between you and me, I used to work the beat,” he said.
“No kidding?” Furnace replied, genuinely interested. “Then you’ve been a hero for a while. I know I could never have done that before I got my powers.”
Hermes shook his head. “Seeing you do what you do, from the perspective of a cop on the street? It really… Affected me.”
Furnace chuckled nervously. “I’m glad I could inspire, even though I’ll never get used to hearing anybody say things like that. Always feels like I don’t deserve it, you know?”
In that moment, everyone was interrupted as a lone voice cried out over the small crowd of heroes. It was Overlook, one of the Protectorate’s newer heroes, and a precognitive thinker class. “Everyone take cover! Something big is about to happen! Get away from the middle of the floor!”
The few remaining fans took heed of the thinker’s words and ran for the walls. No sooner had they cleared the way did everyone feel a mighty rumble through the floor as a tremor surged across the ground. The ground cracked in fissure, then spread all around the room from its center until the ground and floor violently burst upward, sending stone shard shrapnel in all directions. Some of the less physically capable heroes took cover by upending their tables and stands, while others could dodge or tank through the spray of earth material. Noble remained untouched as the stones bounced off a cushion of air focused around her body, while the debris heading toward Furnace vaporized nanoseconds before making contact.
The remaining civilians cowered, crying out in fear, but the deadly spray of rock and stone never touched them. Inkscape had jumped into action, taking the ink and dyes from all the tables, stands, banners, and even the carpet itself and created a curtain-like shield, catching all the debris before it could hit them. ”Looks like today is one of my good days,” he commented, feeling relief.
The danger was not yet over, however. A large stone hand gripped the edge of the new hole, and with a mighty heave the being connected to that arm emerged from below ground. A mighty stone warrior, nearly twenty-five feet tall, stood before the gathered heroes of the fundraiser. Perched on the stone goliath’s shoulders, arms, and legs were a number of brutish looking thugs wielding pickaxes. At the top, situated in the head, stuck out the shoulders and head of a single individual. Though he was more known in the city of Boulder, his men had madea presence in Denver over the last several weeks. The big boss of the Rockers, Ceramix, had officially crashed the party.
The Jacks and Other Less-Than-Legal Individuals
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The villains listened patiently as Thunderbolt explained the reason they had all been called together. Taking out Patriarch was something just about everyone could get on board with. Even if the rumors of his mind control proved to be false, he still controlled the largest criminal enterprise in the entire state, and he was well known for not playing well with others. Chatterbox called for those against the idea to speak out, while Headhunter gave input as to his own lethal intentions. The first to speak up was Farce. Or was it Sparce? Keeping those two straight always proved to be a troublesome task.
”The vigilante brings up a good point,” said Sabotage, so far the most vocal of the villains gathered. ”What’s the point in bringing down Patriarch’s organization if he can turn us into his puppets? I don’t much care for the idea.”
”That’s bullcrap and you know it,” interjected Retcon. ”You don’t want to lose your biggest cash cow. Everyone knows that the Community is your biggest client, thief.”
”I’m not exactly hurting for cash. If they go, yeah I’ll take a hit, but there’s only so much money I need to live comfortably. Not that I need to justify myself to you, bitch.” The cat burglar raised her middle finger at the androgynous jester, who merely shrugged in response. Retcon had no interest in further getting a rise out of her.
”If we are to steer this ship back on topic,” insisted Purge from his booth. ”My organization and our allies would like nothing more than to see the Community cleansed from our streets. They have no respect, cannot be reasoned with, and they escalate matters to an unsafe point for the remainder of us. For this charter, you have my full backing and all resources available to my mafia.”
Sabotage scoffed. ”Right, like we’re even going to make a dent in the Community. Look, if we’re going to do this, fine, but I need some sort of assurance that you all have got my back. I’m not getting left high and dry to get tossed in the Birdcage, or worse brainwashed.”
”I believe I can offer you that very assurance!” All heads turned toward the newest voice in the room, looking to see a man dressed in a rather expensive tuxedo entering the room. He was tall and fairly muscular, with white skin, and well groomed hair. He carried with him a briefcase, and spoke in an English accent. Probably Liverpool.
The various villains in the room immediately went on their guard, with the quickest to react being Purge’s right hand man, Benito, who pulled out a gun. ”Now now, put that silly little thing away. Don’t worry, I’ll show myself to my seat. Invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail, but no worries! I haven’t taken any offense!”
The mystery man took a seat at the bar, a few spots down from where the majority of the Jacks were sitting. The bartender continued cleaning glasses, pretending not to be noticing any of this, like a fly on the wall.
”And who might you be, most… Esteemed guest?” Purged inquired, cautious but curious.
”Oh, I’m nobody, really. Just a whisper of a shadow in the corner of your eye. Been setting things up for some time and decided it was finally time to reveal myself, to start building trust.” He set the briefcase down on top of the bar, and signalled for the bartender, who proceeded to get him a rum and coke.
”Cut the shit. Who are you?”
The man in the tuxedo began drinking from his glass, unable to answer until he had downed the entire thing. Once he set the glass back on the bar top, he turned to face Sabotage, as well as the rest of the villains in the bar. ”I’m who you go to when things aren’t quite working out in your favor. I’m the man who you make a deal with to turn your fortune around and your whole world upside down. You can call me the Broker-” He snapped open the briefcase, revealing its contents: the six vials the Jacks had successfully stolen from the Community warehouse. ”And today, my good mates, I’m selling superpowers.”
Juniper and Erina wandered the streets of the city mostly in silence, making their way back to where the battle of their partners had begun. In the distance the two could hear the grunts and yelling that signalled they were approaching ever closer. Erina was the first to break the silence. “So, have you always been able to see ghosts, or did you need training for that?”
Juniper considered the question for a moment, having to actually think it through. “Both, and neither, you could say. I was raised in my art from earliest memory, so there is no distinction of the two. Not in accordance with my past.”
“Huh. That’s… Kinda deep?” The kitsune wasn’t entirely certain herself, but it felt that way. “I’ve been able to see things nobody else could for as long as I have been alive, which is quite a considerable number of years.”
“And just how many is ‘considerable?’” the shrine maiden replied, stepping around a puddle of recent rainwater.
“I lost track of the exact number-” Erina gave pause long enough to hop over the same puddle. “-But it was a few hundred years ago. About two or three.”
“Surely you jest.” Juniper turned her head to raise an eyebrow at her walking companion. Erina only gave a playful smile back.
“Nope!”
Juniper’s lips slowly twitched up into a small smile of her own. “Then it would be in good form to apologize for the child comment I had made earlier. You may possess some genuine wisdom yet--despite the company you keep.”
“Thanks!”
I will remember to be offended at a more appropriate time, came the faint whisper of Bend’s words.
“I’m just glad we realized that there was no need to get into a fight,” Erina continued. “Let the meatheads duke it out; it’s not like we have anything else to los-Whaaaaaaaaat?” The two spiritualists stumbled to a stop as they rounded the street corner, the battle between their partners finally coming into view.
Juniper cocked her head. “Your partner has the ability to duplicate himself?” she asked with a more observational tone.
Erina shook her head. “No. These uh, they must be fakes. Made from… Cereal.”
“Hm? What’s that now?” Juniper prodded.
A little more loudly, but still somewhat sheepish, Erina answered, “Cereal.”
Juniper’s face scrunched up, the bizarre statement finally registering. “You said cereal?”
Erina could only nod her head. Runch, this is so ridiculously stupid. I love it!
Cyril tried to pinpoint where the voice had come from, listening intently. Frustratingly he could not determine which of the many pirates had spoken. Somehow his voice was echoing around the many duplicates, as though each of these “mascot surprises” was bouncing the sound around, making it nigh impossible to find the origin. This whole ordeal, this battle, it was a farce. A tremendous waste of time and energy, one great big joke. Cyril’s mustache curled with his lips, reflecting the absolute loathing he had for the situation.
The knight’s mind fought through his anger. Remain calm, observant, and calculative. Screw be damned, he was still a fine warrior with an excellent head for strategy. First, Runch wasn’t going to be in front of him. That would ruin any chance that his surprise attack could work, as being in plain sight meant Cyril would just be able to defend as normal. That meant the real Runch had to be behind him, or off to the side. The vanguard quickly pivoted around, glaive extended just in case the pirate was already creeping up behind.
The axe head of his weapon found itself lodged into a cereal duplicate, one which had its hands raised, sword in hand, mocking an overhead strike. With a grunt and a scoff, Cyril pulled his glaive from the statue, causing it to collapse in a heap of grain and gooey red insides. A fruity, flower-like scent wafted up. Pleasant though it was, he had no time to stop and smell the metaphorical roses. Second, the pirate realized very much that Cyril was superior in close-range combat. It would have been foolish to place himself so close, especially with the injuries already suffered. Therefore, the duplicates nearby he could afford to disregard.
Cyril focused his gaze on the pirates near the back. One of these had to be his real opponent, but which one? Third, Runch had to have a clear shot at him, some vantage point unobstructed by the duplicates. Only two in sight fit that description, so Runch had to be one of them. Fourth, Runch would have to attack with his pistol, or the outlandish cereal powers he possessed. Of the two candidates, one held his ridiculous sword forward in a fencing position. The second pointed a pistol right for Cyril’s position.
You thought you were clever, but I found you!
Cyril’s anger flared as he focused on his designated target. Not wanting to give Runch the chance to mount a defense in the time it would take to close in, the vanguard instead kicked up a loose stone from the ground and caught it in his right hand. He wound up his arm then hurled it straight for the target, aiming for center of mass. The stone collided with impressive force, knocking over… Not Runch. BOOM!
The cereal duplicate violently exploded soon as it struck the ground, blasting the nearby cereal statues to smithereens. For several meters around it rained grain and some sort of red jelly, the same that had been inside the first statue Cyril chopped apart. A fruity scent began to permeate the area, growing stronger. Damn him!
He wouldn’t have placed himself near an explosive duplicate… Which means-!
Sir Boniface wasted no time in pivoting around, performing his second one-eighty, his polearm at the ready. Behind him was… Nothing? Nothing had changed at all. The knight scanned each statue in turn, double checking his memory but each time he double checked the result was exactly the same: none of them had moved. Was this all a game to that pirate? Did he hope to psych Cyril out, to overcome the good knight with paranoia? Cyril seethed, overwhelmed with revulsion. This criminal seemed to have gained a great deal of information on him, but if he thought he could break Cyril’s iron will like this, then the pirate would be sorely mistaken.
It would have been easy to wade into the crowd and cut down the duplicates with impunity. Such a course was tempting, admittedly, but foolhardy. There was no telling how many were made with explosives, or what other kinds of traps lie in wait. This tactic was a cowardly one. So be it. If the pirate wanted to hide, then let him hide. He would meet the business end of Cyril’s glaive one way or another, and quite soon. The trick was to expose him.
Determining that he need only repeat his previous tactic, Cyril kicked up another stone. This one he hurled with even greater force, empowering its velocity with the sheen. It struck one of the Runch’s at the far end of the grouping, smashing the head clean off. It splattered to the ground, spilling out red jelly. No time to waste in contemplation, he attacked the next, and the next, each of those splattering the strong-scented jelly as well. Then he struck a fourth, and it exploded with great force, causing more raining cereal. His opponent couldn’t have been any of them near that blast radius, so Cyril turned ninety degrees to repeat the process.
Jelly. Jelly. Explosion. Not on this side. Opposite direction, go. Jelly. Explosion. Wait, what? That covered all four cardinal directions around him and Runch was nowhere to be found! Did that pirate really take the place of a duplicate close enough to engage in melee? No, that would have been an idiotic move on his part. That left only one possibility.
“Reveal yourself! I’ve figured out your trick, and none of these are you! I hadn’t taken you for a coward!” The knight braced himself for combat, eyes scanning all around for where his opponent could come from. One of the buildings nearby? Hidden behind a corner? This infernal scent wafting through the air was making it difficult to concentrate! Smell! That’s when epiphany struck! Cyril had been looking in all the wrong places! He lowered his gaze to a nearby manhole cover.
Certain he had guessed correctly, the knight spun his glaive around to pry open the portal with the tip of his weapon’s shaft. With a mighty heave, he tossed the large iron disk aside. No sooner had it struck the ground with a mighty CLANG did Runch emerge from his hiding place, like a spider leaping up from its hole. The cereal killer was covered in muck and grime, adorned in a jacket of sewage detritus. He landed with the manhole between the two of them, but chose to skip back a few extra steps regardless.
“Omnomnom! Oh well! I guess you found out my plan!” He gave a shrug in a manner that seemed to say “oh well” before drawing the spoonsaber and holding it forward. “En garde!”
Cyril wasted no time charging forward, accelerating with the sheen. His rage, his frustration, he was simply over this foolish battle. He aimed the tip of his blade for Runch’s midsection for a lethal wound. This enemy had already proven supernaturally resilient, and his arsenal of tricks could no longer be underestimated. If he died, he died.
But he didn’t die. Clang! Runch caught the glaive with his spoonsaber, locking the weapons together. Unexpected, but not too troublesome. The vanguard pulled his weapon back, then thrust forward with all his strength! Clang! What? Runch parried the attack again? Cyril forcibly regained his composure and pulled back in order to let loose a flurry thrusts, each one empowered by his sheen to supernatural speeds! Yet one by one each blow was parried aside or dodged by Runch, who had somehow gained a tremendous acceleration himself!
Runch smiled joyously as he weaved around Cyril’s attacks. He was not a violent man by nature, but if pressed he had to admit he was enjoying the thrill and adrenaline of this bout.
Even when he uses his sheen, his movements are quite sluggish compared to what they were before being exposed to my PM Relaxation recipe! It’s a good thing this sewage is blocking the sleep-inducing scent, or I’d already be hankering for a nap myself!
There is no way he has gained enough speed to overtake me! What treachery has unfolded here?
In order to remain vigilant, Cyril had to forcibly stifle a yawn. Wait, a yawn? In the middle of battle?! Just like that, it clicked in the knight’s head, not working as sluggish as his own body. Runch had not become any faster; he had become slower. Tired. Drowsy, more specifically. The knight decided that he needed to take a moment to fall back, leaping a few meters away.
“You’ve spent too much time in the aroma of my PM Relaxation, Sir Boniface,” Runch posited, holding his weapon forward. “Like a child wanting to stay awake all night, you cannot help the feeling of sleep that shall overtake you. There is no dishonor in surrender now that I can best you even in melee combat.”
Those words of surrender stung the knight’s pride, but they wouldn’t hurt nearly as much as what he was about to do. Cyril detached his shield from where it locked in place on his arm and revved the engine within. Small metal teeth along the edge began to spin at an alarming rate, reflecting the light in a brilliant display of colors, which shined on through the thin red mist of Runch’s PM Relaxation. He locked eyes with the pirate, determination welling up within like a dam ready to burst.
“Never surrender.”
His next words were unintelligible, as the knight swiped the whirling chainsaw shield across an exposed portion of his armor, the teeth biting into the flesh, shredding meat and skin to pieces. A jolt of pain roused the vanguard from his lethargy, adrenaline surging like it hadn’t before. Then he charged forward, sheen and all.
Runch’s mouth was open and agape, his eyes practically bulging out from their sockets. He could not believe what he was seeing! The amount of raw will and conviction held by his opponent could scarcely be compared! And due to his own wonder, Runch found himself caught off guard at the reawakened onslaught of his opponent. Pain rippled through his body like his own blood, the saw teeth tearing across his chest and leaving a deep, gaping wound. On the upswing Cyril even managed to slice off an inch and a half of Runch’s left-side mustache.
“URK!” The pirate stumbled back, blood draining from the wound, but Cyril refused to let up and swung his halberd from the right side. “Bori bori grenade!” A single small pellet escaped the Cereal Killer’s open palm, colliding with the ground between both combatants milliseconds before the polearm made contact. The explosion was fast, kicking up great amounts of dust...
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