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6 yrs ago
Current I like the night liiiiife, I like to ɮ օ օ ɢ ɨ ɛ
6 yrs ago
𝕊 𝕢 𝕦 𝕖 𝕖 𝕖 𝕖 𝕖 𝕫 𝕖
6 yrs ago
I feel a tremble in my temple
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6 yrs ago
He’s mastered the art of Simp Mode
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6 yrs ago
Jace haunts me dreams, blesses me nightmares, ye
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Bio

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SCORPIA

Faeries, who stand at an average of three inches tall, are small, armless humanoids with magical abilities including telepathy, telekinesis and blasts of energy. Imperator Scorpia was once a defender of the Skenandoa; a tribe of rogue fae-folk that were shunned from the lush faery city of Lesharo by the other tribes. With their exile forcing them to inhabit less bountiful environments, the Skenandoa adapted at a magically-accelerated rate in order to survive in the harsh climates of the bogs they now dwelled in. Their skin grew tough and spiny, and they developed an ability to survive without a respiratory system, as breathing the thick smog of the swamps proved detrimental to their health over time. Unlike their vegetarian kin, they developed a taste for flesh through necessity, feasting on what little life the swamp could habilitate. Their lives were a far cry from their idyllic roots in the Lesharo, but they survived.

That is, until the War of Supremacy, when their entire colony was wiped out by human hunters. Despite their combative magical skills, the defenders lead by Imperator Scorpia were no match for the comparatively huge humans. Scorpia was the only known survivor, and after roaming the world aimlessly for some years, she was offered sanctuary by the Engineers.


Good to go. Post her.
A Fifty-Eighter attack early in the morning, folks. Something for the battle-capable characters to have fun with.

Just remember not to take all the kills for yourself though, share in the fun.
Dane “Red Raider” Parish



November 19, 1:18 AM
Northeastern proximity

“C’mon! C’mon, keep it movin'!”

The whole of the party hurried up the mountainside, guns raised and lanterns lighting the way. The Fifty-Eighters were definitely not the most commonly well prepared of the three hunter factions, but among all of them loomed this sense of natural camaraderie. The will and want to track and destroy man’s common enemy, enjoying themselves in the process, making up the vast majority of the everyman in Europe, serving as beacons of a righteous, humanitarian existence.

“I said MOVE yer SHIT!”

Dane Parish was not a good example of this.

The party trudged over one last snowy hurdle, and Parish himself was the first to behold the sight ahead. A pause, and then he promptly announced, “What… the jammy fuck…” The leader and his men scanned the whole of Voldoa, assaulted with the notion that there was a city atop a mountain. Parish’s adjutant raised his rifle and scanned the interior of the city. “There’s…” He said, “There’s monsters in there… lots of them…”

“Un-fuckin’-real…” Parish replied, stepping forward. The adjutant continued, “Dane, I think we should be smart about this. We don’t know how many are in there, we should have some of the men scout the place while the rest of us report to Maude.”

“Yeah…” Dane replied, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds pre-”

He was interrupted by the nearby watchtower ringing its bells, with the many others dotting the city quickly copying the action. The alarms had been set off.

“SCRATCH THAT START SHOOTIN’.”

The men began to yell, raising their guns and running towards the city wall. Parish and his adjutant waved over a group of men hauling a load of explosives, sending them down to put them to good use. The adjutant followed them, but Dane stayed behind. As the last of his men passed him, he raised his rifle and propped up the magnifying lens, taking a look at the watchtower. Just think… a whole city of monsters…

His vision was quickly obscured by a figure rising up in front of him. Dane lowered his rifle and looked up at the tall, avian figure with the horrifying eyes.

None of his men heard his muffled panicking as he was taken away by the Lord of Owls.



Amelia Morley



November 19, 1:21 AM

“Fifty-Eighters are attacking the northeastern proximity! Initiate protocols twelve and thirteen!”


Protocol 12: All nearby Tier IIs and Flesh Golems must gravitate towards the hostile area and defend the city.
Protocol 13: A dispatch unit of Tier IIIs from the Undercity will surround the attacking party and cover all conceivable routes of retreat.

No survivors must be left throughout the conduction of either protocol.
@SepticGentleman Spat my drink out I hate you


Blame Tyler.

Blame Tyler for everything.
Tyler was kind enough to produce his own rendition of Zach.

Dane “Red Raider” Parish



November 19, 12:35 AM
Northeastern mountain base, Fifty-Eighter encampment

"I said no!" Parish called out to his subordinate, "I don't care how late or early it gets! We're stayin’ here ‘til mornin’, then we’re scoutin’ the mountain, and if nothin’ happens, then we'll leave!"

The unkempt man was dressed in an assortment of leather wear, with a ragged coat and several belts, all underneath a mangled red mantle. He wore a wide-brim cap, with a striking red feather pointing upward from the side. One of his hands held a bottle of whiskey, and the other held a rifle.

"What are we even waiting for?" The large, dark man in the fur coat retorted.

"I 'ave it on very good sources that people's been disappearin' 'round this mountain!" Parish replied, "What's more, Maude herself told me to take a looksee! So we're all here, and we're gonna wait and see if anythin' comes down! And if we hear so much as a squeak, we are marching up that mountain, ALL of us!"

"And what are you thinking even’s up this mountain?"

"Oh, bugger if I know!" Parish replied, sipping his whiskey. "But whatever it turns out to be, we got them noice gifts from the Silvers to help put 'em down for good." He pointed over to the campsite's rather large stockpile of weaponry, all of finer make than the blunderbusses and pistols they were formerly accustomed to. Indeed, the Silver Battalion had sold them some quality firearms.

"Now stop ya bitchin' an' get back to watchin'!"



Kantus and Baldwin



November 19, 12:37 AM
Northeastern mountain base

The two crouched atop a ledge, looking down at the barrels of fire dotting the rather large campsite down below. From this distance, they could see damn well every aspect of the party's offensive force. Dozens of men, all standing around, admiring their guns, chatting, watching the perimeter. Kantus craned his neck outward to get the best view he could. He retracted it, and pointed an arm forward.

"That one. In the feathered cap. Do you see him?"

"What of him?" Baldwin said, spite creeping into his tone.

"He is their leader and my target. He is not to be harmed. The rest, however, must not survive."

Baldwin tilted his head to gaze at Kantus. His expression was grim. The dark circles beneath his eyes accentuated by the firelight below. "And you need me to... get my hands dirty. Yes?"

"Not here." Kantus replied, "You must begin ascending the mountain towards Voldoa. I will draw their attention and lure them behind you. When they are at the wall, I will abduct the leader, and you will slaughter the rest. Absolutely none of them must survive, or the hunter factions will gain knowledge of Voldoa, and all hell will transpire."

With a slow movement, Baldwin slicked his hair down. He gave out a long sigh as he stood from his crouching stance. "Best that we do not dally, then. Dead men tell no tales." He looked back shortly to Kantus, a ghost of a smile on his face. "And how can hell transpire if we fill it?"

Kantus stood and looked straight at Baldwin. "I am working to ensure that such will be the future case." As Baldwin nodded and turned, Kantus laid a hand on his shoulder. He retracted his neck some and said, "I assure you that you will be rewarded for this. Not by me, but the Engineers. Defending Voldoa from a Fifty-Eighter attack will warrant a higher status, akin to my own. And that will be coming into play later, should you be willing."

Baldwin brushed some frost off the end of his nose, sniffling slightly. "Should the Engineers, or even worse, Hugo, catch wind of this collusion... Can you-... I don't want to imagine the ramifications."

"Not a soul will hear of this, Baldwin."

"I know you well enough to know that you've thought this through. Thorougly, if my instincts tell me anything. I will trust in you."

"And I you." Kantus replied, "Now go."

"Be safe," With that he turned, bending his legs before turning back, "And, the first mark of faith I see, I am tearing off and devouring." Not waiting for an answer, Baldwin bounded off up the mountain, back to the walls of Voldoa.

Kantus turned back to the camp. He waited a short while after Baldwin departed to give the Bergkonge ample time to prepare for the attack. This would be the largest group to ever besiege Voldoa thus far, out of the very few attacks they’d suffered in the past. But all they had to be was thorough, leaving absolutely no one to run away, and things would work out well in the end.

Kantus raised his neck, and the feathers below his beak began to split apart, revealing a gaping maw of jagged teeth. He let out a nightmarish shriek, one that would bring the Fifty-Eighters running up the mountain.

He unfurled his wings and began his ascent.

KOARIN IMHERA

Koarin is Draconian, more specifically a Drakaina. It is often assumed they were created by the interbreeding of human and dragon. Whatever their origin their numbers are even more scarce than that of dragons which are quite illusive in their own right. Before the advancements in technology there was little to fear from humans. Still most kept their distance as humans were prone to attack the "unholy" creatures.

When the War of Supremacy broke out most of her kind tried to defend themselves. Even with new weapons the main advantage that humans had over dragon kind was numbers. With each victory humanity grew bolder and eventually came for the den. In the battle Koarin's husband and child lost their lives with she barely escaping the same fate. Stricken by grief and rage there was a time when she would descend on unsuspecting soldiers and scorch the earth where they stood. In more recent years she has quelled her anger, having become weary of fighting.


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The spoops are real


Spoopy ghost.
Zachariah Bale



Zach opened the door to room 139 and stepped inside. He was immediately made subject to the lavish interior, with the modernized furniture and fixings, and the overall sense of comfort. And what was his response to the notion that he’d be living here for a while?

“Nnnggg…”

As he walked further in, his phone buzzed in his hoodie pocket. It was his dad. Had to be, he didn’t have any other contacts. He pulled it out and switched it on.

U there yet

Yes I am.


It was funny. Nearly opposite personalities, yet Zach was the one who employed proper spelling and grammar in his texts, while Keagan wrote like a goddamn child.

How is it

About what I expected. A bunch of kids with super powers in one place ready to blow up at any given moment.


Nothing after that. Zach put his phone away and proceeded to claim one of the available beds as his own, noticing the other was already situated with a few bags and trunks that obviously belonged to Mason. Looks like he had the common decency to leave him the bed closer to the bathroom; the more practical one over the more comfortable one. Eh, he didn’t really care enough to argue. A bed was a bed. He set all his stuff atop it – which wasn’t much – and took a seat. Boredom quickly set in, and he considered getting back out on the campus to do some exploring. Then he figured that’d be what was expected of him. Oh, but he wanted to get a feel of the place, so he decided on an alternative.

And God, it was a pretty bad alternative.

Zach got up and strolled on over to the bathroom. He stepped inside, locked the door, ignored the pleasant appearance, and proceeded to undress. Underneath his normal clothes was a slim, two-piece, shiny, silver jumpsuit. A Nomex fire-resistant uniform. Usually meant for fire fighters, but Keagan bought it online to solve the problem of Zach’s clothes getting torn and burnt whenever he utilized his abilities. He tossed aside his hoodie, jeans, gloves, shoes, and socks. All he was left in was the Nomex. He sat down on the toilet with both lids down and took his goggles off, revealing his swollen, irritated, pale-blue eyes. He set his goggles on the sink counter, leaned back, shut his eyes, and relaxed.

Complete, utter silence for nary a moment.

Twitching.

Sparks.

And suddenly, from Zach’s body jumped forth a humanoid being of bright, blue, pulsing energy. Thankfully, there wasn’t any big outward surge like there used to be, when he first discovered he could do this. He leapt forward and floated above the bathroom floor, taking caution not to accidently poke his clothes with his specter-feet.

He turned his head around the bathroom, noticing a wall socket across from the toilet. If he was going to explore, he might as well do it in his own unique manner. He hunched forward and began to dematerialize, the veins and energy making up his incorporeal form spiraling into the socket. Now, he was loose inside the school’s wiring. And he had an hour to do whatever until he had to get back to his organic body.

Maybe he’d have a little fun and start a rumor that there’s a spooky ghost running arou- oh nevermind who the hell would even buy that.
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