Rilla

Post Your Pikcha

@Xandrya This is true, I would kill for my son's hair, tbh. Got that good mix of white people and black people hair.

Post Your Pikcha

The community every time a girl posts a selfie:

@Mattchstick

She posted! Quick!

Post Your Pikcha

https://imgur.com/a/3TZzO

Because it wouldn't show me.

But sometimes, you just gotta take a picture in your future kitchen.

The Return North, Beast King and Beast Queen meet once more.

A heavy sigh parted the lips of Kei'taro, this day would truly not be one of joy and happiness. Only twice before had he seen her in any combination of her present state, and he knew which he feared more. Already a formidable opponent, she was outright unbeatable in this state. Pikatok was a specimen of bestial authority, slightly different than himself. This was the most powerful state he had seen her in, a near complete amalgamation of her powers. What made it worse, in the eyes if Kei'taro, was that she brought along that impossible weapon of hers. The anchor. It was heavy, he could never lift it, but she swung it with finesse and control, like he had once done Kusanagi.

His right hand increased his grip on Wukong, a subtle glow hidden beneath his shirt. In her current state, this battle would need to conclude shortly, though he could see no other way for it. Their engagements never lasted much longer than a couple of minutes, often with him on the losing side.

Pikatok, today is not the day for either of us. My brother is here, I felt the arrival of Yggdrasil, do you know of that transdimensional transport? She had to know what this meant, but he wouldn't reveal it. Not what his brother had done, not what he failed to stop. Not the chain of events that had led them here today, or what other atrocities his brother would commit.

Separated by twenty feet, he was silently glad his eye was covered, so she couldn't see the sadness in it - nor the difference. Perhaps she would think it were just missing.

Pikatok, whatever sadness had befallen you, let it not control you this day. Whatever pain you wish to inflict, allow it to subside. He knew it would not, it would never until her anger was abated.

He kept himself loose and limber, Wukong feeling almost weightless in his hands. He could see each breath, but his eye never left the woman apart from him. Two powers in the animal kingdom, destined to stay locked in battle, until one is the Victor. The woman who was almost all creature or the man who was covered by animal motifs.

Persistent World

Move it down and create a fantasy one and I'll be happy. Otherwise top, bottom, middle, I don't really care. It doesn't stop me from getting to the Arena or Advanced when need be.

TheZones Roleplay (TZRP. Persistent-Freeform roleplay)

bitchyouknew

I'm interested in getting started, seeing how things pan out and if thereisa1000dollarprizefoewhoevertakesovereverything

Way of the Warrior

@Tasuke if you aren't brought in, you can feel free to enter the viewing room and watching from there for a story aspect.

Way of the Warrior

The Lobby

The entirely muted footsteps that echoed along the hall were the only sounds that persisted in the impossibly dark construction. How long had it been since the place had been in use? Surely not since the last scheduled maintenance check and upgrade. The Warrior had little to worry about being here, despite the darkness and unfathomably long time out of use; only one could enter here, and he had gained that permission.

It was not long before another pair of footsteps, accompanied by the in time tapping of a came, joined him. The Master of the Lobby had arrived.

I assume then it was just as expected, Liaison asked, peering to his left at his bodyguard. Alphonse had grown accustomed his role, and played it well - protecting the man he had sworn to kill. Well, let there be no delay, the man said as he snapped his fingers, turning the dark Lobby, into a well-lit space of magnificence. The Sterling white walls flashed as the technology embedded within came to life. At the same time, the place was almost instantly full of staff, in the midst of work as though they had been there the entire time. Alphonse wouldn't have put it past Liaison of that being the case; the previous darkness being no more than a powerful ruse concocted by someone who owed a favor.

Liaison moved swiftly and purposely, taking care to read through and sign various papers presented to him. He ran the Lobby as though it were a business, similar to how he ran his earth space based company, the Raeym Corporation, through the use of two very important families - the Tsh'Raels and Seraphics. The workforce was populated with a variety of beings, from a multitude of hyper universes, some willing and some not so much.

A portly woman, or at least as far as Liaison and Alphonse could tell, approached them with an open laptop of off world make, likely from the hyper universe of Hyrut II, where technology was the master and had many times over surpassed what the milky way universe, where earth was featured, was capable of. Mr. Liaison, the letters are ready to go, whenever you wish to send them.

Liaison flashed a friendly smile and punched in his codes, a series of keys that changed almost by the minute, that would send off the invitations. This was among his favorite piece of business, the writers often tried hard to convey the seriousness of the tournament and how it changed not only those who failed, but the one who won moreso. None, to date, had ever heeded the words - and in fact, his bodyguard had entered twice.

Invitation

You're not going to listen to me, but I have to try anyways.

The name you may know me by is El Chappo, Champion of the Ring. That's not my name anymore, but it might carry some weight with you anyways. I've been where you are now, holding this very letter. Bright-eyed and determined, convinced of my own invincibility, convinced that I was the best there was and that Liaison - may the Diablo take his poxy soul - would shortly be granting me the prize he'd so richly offered to the strongest arm and keenest mind of his thrice-be-damned tournament.

I got one of these letters, too. A letter warning me to stay away, that Liaison can't be trusted, and that there was no joy to be had in winning the contest I'd set my sights on. I didn't listen. No one did. No one ever does. But I still have to try.

Attached to this message is a map highlighting key locations you'll need to know how to find if you insist on trying your hand against Liaison's competition. If you enter, don't lose it. The medical ward will ensure you're back to fighting strength between bouts. The lobby areas might seem like so much superfluous fluff, but don't be fooled - the best warriors are the ones who can learn much and give away little in the time between matches, and they'll know anyone who doesn't show has much to hide. Keep your secrets, learn theirs, and perhaps even win allies.
You'll need them. There's a food court as well to nourish yourself, off the lobby areas. I do not recommend the Mexican - it gives you gas like you would not believe, and I've eaten real Mexicana.

Lastly there are the preparation rooms, which lead out onto the tournament grounds proper. You can use those rooms to arm yourself, warm up, and prepare for the battles ahead if you must compete. I would advise that you spend some time praying to whatever deity guides you for forgiveness. I wasted my time praying for victory, instead. I know not what sins I committed to offend the Saints, and if I did I would spend the rest of my life atoning for them, for they must have been black indeed. My Saints heard my prayers, you see. They gave me the victory I so desired, and when I had that victory in my hands I learned the truth of what Liaison is, what this 'Way of the Warrior' farce's true purpose is, and what my victory had 'earned' me.

I don't fight anymore. I can't fight anymore. My mask is gone - I tore it off myself, cast it away. I'll not don another. My days of championship are behind me. My days of glory are behind me. 'Glory'. I don't even know what the word means anymore - all it is, is ash in my mouth now. Once, when I was El Chappo - when I was a champion - I proudly swore that I would never beg another for anything. I would earn what I took, took what I had earned, and would never stoop to such lowly, cowardly behavior as pleading with another.

Here and now, I cast aside that oath. I am low, I am a coward, and I beg of you, my unwary successors - heed my message. This is no place of glory, no champion's grounds. This place is a den of snakes, and if you accept that Diablo's invitation, you will be bitten.

There will be other battles, my young friends. Other chances to prove yourselves and earn glory. I pray to the Saints that you will listen, though they do not hear my words anymore.

Fortunate favor you...however you may choose.

The invitations would cross through both time and space, traverse universes, all to reach their intended targets.

Task completed the woman turned on her heels and scurried off, leaving Liaison and Alphonse to attend to their business. For Alphonse, that was to return to the veil, a hidden mirror world that allowed him to protect Liaison from a place deeper than shadows and other elements.

Liaison, on the other hand, vanished and reappeared in an upper area, restricted to personnel of sufficient clearance. There were things and people that appeared in this room that warranted the removal of unneeded eyeballs. He looked over the equipment, and inputted another code, one that would grant him almost unilateral control of the Lobby and all functions therein. He set the parameters that would guide those who came to the proper location. Non combatants would be shifted to this very room, while those marked for the tournament would land in the lobby, near a receptionist who had seen it all, and continued to show.

Already his Lobby picked up trace amounts of incoming energies, both magical, natural, and tech based. The call for the upper levels players had been sent out eons ago, this was a highly anticipated event. In fact, for the first year, he was expecting an analyst from a budding agency that specialized in this type of thing. Later they would work out an agreement, more work, for a favor. Always a favor.

All there was to do now was wait, and so, the well dressed Man that held the cane, and couldn't be touched, waited.

TheZones Roleplay (TZRP. Persistent-Freeform roleplay)

@Mobius

how fucking dare you miss me?

Why I oughta

TheZones Roleplay (TZRP. Persistent-Freeform roleplay)

Lemme run some numbers and see.