Rekkuza

Calling All Heroes and Villains!

@ManyThings@Silver Carrot

Location: Gold Pavilion, 48th floor

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Doc threw a mild glare in Sir Arcticus' way. The icy knight might've been towering over him, but he didn't back down or cower. "I don't 'lack the will' to help. There's a practical reason for why I don't take a side in your fights. Not all of us can be strong, tall and young, 'ready to fight!'."

He crossed his arms defiantly. " I've chosen a different path, that's all. Someone has to make sure the people you heroes beat up don't die from their injuries."

Though Wireframe did have a point. He was already here, and that intel could be useful. Jackie and the few others who sometimes brought him news from the underworld were coming up empty, probably because of everything going down here in Nova. Which meant things would be calm enough for a few days back home. If he called in sick at the hospital, he could get a couple of days off from work, and get Jackie to hold down the fort at his place... It would still be risky, he wasn't exactly established here like back in Ironclad, but...

The doctor sighed, his posture relaxing into something a bit less defensive. "...Fine, fine. Let me see what's written on those." He reached for a random file, which turned out to be about some kind of mad researcher styling himself after a plague doctor, and quickly flipped through it, before leaning over and reading the Dragon's file still in Wireframe's hands. Just from a cursary glance, he could tell that these people were bad news, not just for Nova, but for all neighbouring cities, too.

"...Just. Tell me before you start a raid or anything. I'll set up a first aid area. Bring me the injured and I'll take of them. And I do mean all injured." His tone became sharper. He had to make sure they understood how serious he was, that he would not bend his will on this particular matter. "Medical care is a human right. I won't tolerate anyone trying to leave people behind because they're criminals, no matter how heinous the crime. Understood?"

"If I have any doubts you're neglecting anyone, I won't hesitate to run in, and I won't care if I get in your way. Human life comes first." With his piece now said, he picked a seat and settled down, waiting for this meeting to continue.

Through a Wayward Glimmer -- to a Faraway Place [Closed]

Arthur winced a bit as he finally reached the inscription table. Here was the bane of his existence: written contracts. He'd always preferred oral contracts with the implicit threat of him simply taking his due by force if his employer ever tried to go back on their word... but that wouldn't exactly fly with a noble.

Luckily this one was more of a list of names than anything else, and his name was one of the things he'd made sure to memorize how to spell correctly, so he wouldn't have to ask the soldier for help. Thank goodness for that; so many people didn't realize that not everyone had the luxury of getting an education and learning their letters at a young age, and were rather rude about his need for assistance.

Quickly, Arthur Mercier's own name was added to the ledger in wonky, scratchy letters.

The mercenary went to nose around the offered gear, but quickly decided to not take any. His own armor, shield and sword were just as good in quality, and having to get used to new gear right before a potentially dangerous outing would be rather foolish. Though it seemed not everyone had that luxury. The man who had woken him up the previous evening had scurried away with nothing but some arrows, for some reason, and the young man from Second Chance seemed puzzled by his leather armor.

He... probably should offer some help. Hopefully most of the others would know their way around the equipment. He wasn't exactly keen on fighting surrounded by inexperienced, potentially dangerous amateurs.

"Ya need some help with that armor, lad? I could give ya a hand." He said, not unkindly, as he approached Robert. "Bit heavier and stiffer than what I use, but if yer gonna use that axe there, then I guess it's a good choice. Don't need to move as quick as me, one good wack in the neck or head and yer done. Handy on horseback too."

1x1 search: seeking someone willing to play a priest

Hi! This picked my interest and I'd be interested to learn more :)
Maybe you could PM me some more details and we could chat?

Hi!

Welcome to the guild!

Greetings (from the now dead Roleplaygateway)

Welcome to the guild! I'm sorry about your old site, but we're glad to have you here :)

Local moth saying hello

Welcome to the guild!

Hello world!

Welcome to the guild!

The Symphony: Modern Magic

_{13 Mourningdove Lane - April 15th 00:10-ish}

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Mathias rolled his eyes at the Archivist's comment on their (barely) late arrival. Anyone who ever had to schedule meeting between multiple parties before knew you had to set the meeting at least 30 minutes before the actual planned starting time. People inevitably ended up late after all, and dealing with that fact was a skill he'd had to develop very early in his professional career.

He certainly wasn't a fan of the elf's attitude. He clearly was the kind of man who expected respect and authority without ever doing anything to earn it, who did not realize their success were all too often built on the back of other people's hard work. The kind of man he unfortunately had to constantly deal with in the corporate world.

But here, he wasn't at work. Here, he had no obligations, no fears of being fired. And he knew exactly what these types disliked and how to best strike at their overinflated egos.

Mathias leaned back against the closest wall, and waited for a bit, feeling his power, the power to change and mold, boil under his skin. An itch grew in his teeth and nails as he felt them slowly start to shift. They lengthened and strengthened, they were sharpened to a point, just as he had ordered them to be. Soon, his new fangs were too long to be fully contained by his still human jaw, his lips no longer fully able to cover them. His expression was forced into a kind of permanent half-snarl as he casually looked over his new claws, examining them for any defects. In the span of about 15 seconds, he'd gone from a tired office worker to a tired office worker who could rip out someone's throat.

Step 1. Do not show weakness or deference. Put yourself on the same level as them, by force if necessary. The fact that his transformation also doubles as a way to defend himself against this weird old Brit is a welcome bonus too.

He fished his pack of smokes and his cheap gas station lighter from his back pocket, delicately picking a cigarette between his claws, putting it between his teeth and lighting it up in only a few tries. First a deep inhale, and then a exhale which spreads a smoke cloud through the room. He casually, yet very deliberately, ashed his cigarette on the ground.

Step 2. Act disrespectful, but in a casual way, as if he did not even deserve you considering respecting him. Act low class, and dirty his stuff if possible.

And last, but not least, time to get some answers.

"So, how'd you know about my little hunting accident?" Mathias asked, tone irritated. "I got rid of all evidence, and it took place in Missouri, far from here. Got a crystal ball in this place of yours? Or some other kind of magical gizmo?"

"Because that's really the only reason I'm even here, you know. I already had my freak out about me turning into a monster, so your little speeches about magic and what-not don't interest me none." He blew out another cloud of smoke. "I just want to know how you found out, and who else might also know about this. And make it quick, I've got work tomorrow."

Step 3. Be disinterested. Have them realize that you don't believe they deserve your time, that they do not interest you. Show them that you would rather be anywhere else than here listening to them prattle on.

Mathias fought back a smile as he watched and waited for the Archivist's reaction, idly tapping his claws on the wall. Maybe vicariously getting revenge on his boss through annoying this old man wasn't the healthiest thing to do, but damn it, he'd wanted to do this for literal years, and he was going to enjoy every little bit of it.

Calling All Heroes and Villains!

Location: Gold Pavilion, 48th floor

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Doc frowned under his mask. He looked around at the various heroes gathered here, these young people in all of their various costumes and gleaming gear, and he simply couldn't understand why he was called here alongside them. He definitively clashed, in his old, patched up white doctor's coat, a red cross hand-sewn on the back and a balaclava hiding his face. He'd chosen not to wear his kevlar vest: he doubted these heroes would try to stab or shoot him. Right now, he looked practically civilian.

"You'll have to pardon me," he said, his eyes narrowing at Aurealis, "but I don't see why I was called here alongside you heroes." He raised a hand to his neck, toying with the small silver crucifix dangling from it. "I'm not exactly one of you. I don't fight crime. I'm not a hero."

And that fact had been the whole reason he'd made the trek from Ironclad to here, when he'd gotten that message. He had to make them understand that they couldn't, shouldn't involve him. Because if they did... then his work could quickly become impossible.

He knew not every hero agreed with him caring for civilians and criminals alike, but surely they'd respect his wishes anyway?

"I can't... I can't really get involved in this whole mess." He huffed. "I'm a doctor and a first responder. A neutral party. Always have been. And I'm not looking to change that. I can't afford to."

"It's not like I can fight either. I can maybe offer some first aid, but you people don't need to go to me to get care. You've got hospitals for that. You can afford it." He started tapping his foot, getting a bit agitated. "So why, pray tell, knowing all this, was I called here? Please, enlighten me."

"And please don't bring me messages through my patients," he pleads, thinking back to the panicked woman who had brought him Aurealis' words. She had been nearly passed out in sheer fright, and he had to give her something to help calm her nerves. "The poor girl was just selling weed in an alleyway. I won't get involved in your hero-ing business, but descending upon her in all of your... incandescence was just too much. It's marijuana, not murder."

Calling All Heroes and Villains!

@Estylwen Quick question! Would my character, as an Ironclad-based vigilante, have gotten a message from Aurealis, and if so, by what means? I don't believe his phone number would have been public knowledge, since he keeps his identity a secret. Maybe it could have gotten through one of his patients?