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World of Light

Waiting before my next post, wanted to see if @thedman has anything important to throw in between Michael and 6 before I totally walk away from that situation.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Wards: Protean, the Protectorate's Strongest

@Old Amsterdam@yoshua171@Gardevoiran@BCTheEntity@Lugubrious

As Messiah gave the order, Collin's eyes reacted in a quick change of indignant rage, to resigned sadness. Tulpa's projection took him out just as planned, and from there Tiger Lily went to work binding him in the words of his own game systems to ensure that he couldn't get away if he woke up early. Once the former Ward came to no doubt he would be in a rather desperate situation. Still, they couldn't worry about that right now. Protean was their new target, one of the senior Protectorate heroes and physically by far the most impressive. It was commonly accepted knowledge around the HQ that only Inkscape could take him in a fight, and only on one of Ink's good days. The man could unleash any combination of animal traits leading to an unpredictable foe, and boasted something akin to a regeneration factor on top of that. Stack on how he was their primary trainer, teaching them most of what they knew, and it would certainly be an uphill battle, damned that the Wards outnumbered him five to one.

The teens took off, Tulpa remaining behind to battle from afar with her powers, guided through the building by Decoy who kept a close eye on everything with the installed surveillance equipment. Protean was in a hurry himself, no doubt reacting to the emergency all hands on deck situation. If they lost him here, there might not be a second chance... But lose him they did not. At the bottom floor in the hall adjacent to the main lobby, just exiting the stairwell was Protean, running with gazelle legs on a largely human torso.

"Good to see you, Wards. Skipping school? There's an emergency situatio-" He stopped, both mid-sentence and in his tracks. Something felt terribly off about the whole circumstance. His eyes darted to the direction they had just been coming from: the same direction as Collin's room. Noticeably, the man took a massive whiff of the air around him, presumably using the olfactory senses of some animal that wasn't immediately visible in his current form. "I see. Well that is sad, isn't it?" His human arms began to melt before the Wards' very eyes, transforming into a primordial goo, a protein slop, before reshaping and solidifying into a set of colorful crustacean claws. Similarly, antennae grew out from his forehead.

"I'm guessing I don't get the benefit of the doubt here, so I won't bother to ask you let me pass. But I can't risk holding back on you either. Run away or go down and I won't follow. Stay standing and..." Just like that Protean had already crossed the majority of the distance between himself and the group. He threw a punch at completely imperceptible speeds with his claw arm, quite literally impossible to see. The air instantly heated up by the sheer friction, and a vacuum was created that pushed against each of the Wards with an impressive force. There could be absolutely no question that if any of them took such a punch directly they would be completely torn apart.

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The Jacks: Dr. Dean

@yoshua171@BCTheEntity@Eklispe@Old Amsterdam@Crusader Lord

Doctor Dean largely ignored the sudden assault on his person from two separate sources, mostly because it didn't mean anything to him. Alloy's electric shock passed right through his translucent form, while Thunderbolt's attempt of brute force was met with equal effect. If the villain had even noticed the assault on his person he certainly did not acknowledge it. Such things were, as it appeared, too far beneath him. However it became clear that he was getting at least somewhat annoyed when the large swathes of people surrounded him, drowning him out with their inane chatter. Thankfully the green clad menace had already armed himself with the solution for this problem. Without a single beat of hesitation he fired the high-tech blaster into the crowd. Instead of a single beam of blast, it projected a large constant stream of rainbow colored light. Every individual the beam struck was silenced in the worst possible way, as the Jacks would witness the innocent civilians ripped apart before their very eyes and turned to dust.

"That is much better," he said, rather calmly considering he had just murdered dozens of people. "I do so dislike being interrupted. Am I to understand that this is your declination of my offer, then?" That's when Doctor Dean changed focus as he noticed something new and interesting. The lenses in his armor's mask visibly zeroed in on Whimsy, adjusting and shifting. The lenses even changed color at one point. "Ah, fascinating! Your power is not dissimilar to my own, separating that I am what this world classifies as a tinker. Reality string vibrational shifting, brought on by... A trigger. Let's see, and by my analysis this trigger would be... The closing of your eyes? A bit inconvenient I would think, but certainly a speedy trigger in the event of an emergency. Little one, I must study your power in greater detail."

The villain reached for his belt, pulling out what looked to be a metal hilt with nothing else attached. Then a small beam of light emitted from the hilt, giving the appearance of a lightsaber from the film franchise Star Wars, only much smaller. Like a scalpel.

World of Light

Woo! Friendship hearts!

World of Light

Courier 6

Level 3 - (7/30) EXP
Location: Scrapyard - Start
Word Count: 675

Everything about Michael rubbed 6 the wrong way, from his use of a reckless weapon endangering allies to the delusions that winners couldn’t fuck up in the process. Not to mention his indignant tone when talking to the Courier, the sort of smarmy “I know better than you” attitude that ultimately led to 6 killing Robert House to liberate New Vegas. He had half a mind to shoot Michael in the back then and there and remove the problem from the future, but then something off in the distance caught his eye.

A figure stood alone among the scrap wreckage, surrounded by the floating spirits of rabbid and robot alike. A muscular bipedal humanoid figure in armor, with a helmet completely obscuring its face. It seemed to be staring the Courier directly in the eye from a distance of about 200 meters away. Upon closer inspection, that piece of metal it was standing on… Looked a lot newer than the rest of the scrapyard by comparison. Nobody else happened to be looking in that direction at the time, so the Courier spoke up.

”What do you reckon his deal is?” 6 asked, gesturing to the lone figure. Just then, with a rippling of air distortion, the person vanished completely from sight as the spirits also timed out, leaving no trace as to his presence. The Courier never looked away, but just as any of his companions ceased paying attention to the area, the large hunk of metal began to rise up, then take off through the air. A spaceship! He thought intensely. Damn aliens! How many times were they going to plague the Courier in his lifetime?!

”Damn, it’s gone,” he muttered. That’s when the Courier turned back to Michael, though his intense anger had severely deflated from the strange encounter. ”We would’ve won with allies if you hadn’t fucked up. An army stands a better chance than a ragtag posse for this sort of mission, mole rat breath. And unless your world somehow doesn’t have the concept of air sheer your .50 cal anti-material rifle poses way more fucking risk than the benefits it gives when you’re shooting at people engaged in battle. If you want to wreck an oncoming army then that’s one thing, but it’s a god damn miracle you didn’t kill Kirby, or any of the rest of us, with those risky shots. I’d reconsider how you use it in the future, or you’ll find out why I’m sometimes called the Ghost of the Mojave.”

The Courier holstered his magnum, as well as strapped the pickaxe to his back, then turned away from Michael. He took two steps before stopping to give him one last piece of advice, back to the sniper’s face. ”And if you try to take me out first, just a warning. Bullets don’t work.” Yeah, that was suitably badass enough. Hell yeah! He kept up his walk, a large giddy smile spreading across his face. That definitely had to sound cool! Not too fast, don’t skip, can’t let him know that you’re happy. Ok, ok, breathe, calm down, yeeeeah. Let him stew on that for a bit.

The Courier came face to face with the Master of Masters, or as he only knew the guy, “black hooded weirdo,” seeing as he was not present for the Master’s introduction or explanation of various uses for the spirits. With a shrug and a noncommitted gesture, the Courier turned to catch up with King Bowser and the rest, while attempting to strike up a conversation. ”So, you’re an odd one. Kirby didn’t save you like he saved the rest of us, unless something happened I wasn’t aware of at your little camp site. What’s your story, and why aren’t you all crazed as a cazadore like everyone else we’ve seen so far?”

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

7 day callout time and wooow, only 1 post by a main story team member. Either fate conspired to make this a slow progression round, or people are struggling to come up with responses and therefore I failed you all. Regardless, try to keep me in the loop please.

Wards: @Old Amsterdam@yoshua171@Gardevoiran@BCTheEntity@Lugubrious

Jacks: @yoshua171@BCTheEntity@Old Amsterdam@Crusader Lord

I know Alice has been sick and Yosh has been working every day nonstop. Even so, you've all got 5 days now, friends.

World of Light

Courier 6

Level 3 - (6/30) EXP
Location: Scrapyard - Start
Word Count: 639

Huff. Huff. Huff. The Courier ran as fast as his fleet feet could take up, heading back up the original hill they had started on. How had his shots landed? He honestly didn’t know. If the sniper was in trouble, then the rest of the group that had been guarding Michael was surely in trouble too, allies he couldn’t see much less protect from his vantage point down lower. He just had to hope things would be alright once he got up there, and that the spirits he had crushed would turn into something more useful for the situation.

The two objects solidified in his hands: some sort of purple box that didn’t appear to be immediately threatening or useful (and thus would need a bit of observation later, when no longer in the heat of the moment) and a pickaxe of all things. A pickaxe? Really? Really? That soldier robot turned into a god damn pickaxe?! Not a rifle or a machine gun or kevlar armor or Hell, even a combat knife,but a friggin’ pickaxe?! What, was that a repurposed mining robot?!

The Courier didn’t have the opportunity to muse on his apparent misfortune anymore, as just as his vision rose above the crest of the hill, the sight of the Master of Masters, the centurion, the dancer, and Michael came into full view. His shots had apparently done enough damage to that Omnic that Michael was able to recover, and finished the job himself. A large number of the robots were being handily defeated and frozen over by Din (did that rod of hers have a miniature cryolator installed?), and the Master… Well, he was having a grand ol’ time defying the laws of gravity, as 6 saw it. The centurion, however, had things in a much more difficult situation.

That’s when the party was crashed by none other than Zer0 and… Hey, did he look different? A sniper round tore through a bunch of downed robots, then the assassin vanished from sight, but his presence could still be seen by the sudden large gashes appearing in the robots clumped together by the Master’s power. Once Zer0 reappeared, spouting off one of his weird ass poems, the Courier couldn’t help but notice that his visor was a different color. And his legs, were they more mechanical now? ”What in tarnation happened to you?” he asked, almost completely forgetting about the centurion.

”Oh. Right. YEEHAW!” The Mojave courier moved in, pickaxe in hand, and took a wild swing at the Omnic that had pinned down the Roman legionnaire, hoping this weapon carried with it some sort of bonus effect or special traits. Alas, that did not seem to be the case as the metal slammed into the robot and pierced its hull with only minor effect. The Courier had more skill in hand to hand weapons like knuckle dusters and the power fist than he had with melee weapons. Factor in the odd shape of the pick and he wasn’t able to swing it with full strength, creating a rather sloppy technique with sloppy results. Still, it had at the very least the effect of knocking the robot off of Magnumus Agoston, even if it was still in perfect working order.

”Aw fuck this,” he sighed, pulling off his best Indiana Jones impression as he simply drew his magnum and placed a round straight into the Omnic’s processing center. ”Y’all owe me,” he commented to the Roman and Michael, before focusing his gaze on Michael specifically. ”And you owe me double for fucking up and shooting those rabbits when I convinced them to help us. I ought to feed you brahmin pie for that.”

World of Light

If everyone is ok with it (and feel free to contest me, I love a good competition) I’d like to call dibs on the Omnic mini boss perched up with the engineer, to use as a striker. >:]

World of Light

<Snipped quote by Archmage MC>

Subspace

@Lugubrious

Oh. Oh dear.

I do believe that you've just hinted that we'll have to battle Tabou. Oh dear.

World of Light

Of course he is. How would he not be? Galeem's influence (not possession) affected all beings in existence.

@Lugubrious

Except, apparently, the Master of Masters. Unless there's some amount of influence going on there that I missed, which I suppose could be possible. Thinking back on it, did he explain why he's not all crazed like everyone else?

World of Light

Playa ain’t here to play, dawg.