SilverPaw

Underynth: The Light Below (What if everything was issekai'd?)

Would love to join, hope I'll have the time to.

Symphony of Espers

Jacqueline Leroux

“Got it,” Jacqueline offered a rushed acknowledgment of gratitude to the boss. It was good to know that disturbing the circle – which was clearly present, now that she knew to look for it – could work as well.

When Rottweiler said his movie-protagonist classic of ‘over my dead body!’, Jacqueline snorted. “Cute, but I can arrange that,” she drawled. Then, they were close enough to clash, and there was no leave for bantering anymore. It was supremely annoying that her opponent knew about espers and was apparently trained what to look for; he could even guess that when it took more time, a melody would be more powerful. By that point, Jacqueline could only hope she’d still manage to apply the melody.

Perhaps it was luck, perhaps Rottweiler had been conditioned to think that whatever she was about to do would be damaging, but either way, using his hand to parry her weapon was his undoing. The moment he touched the war pick, the touch-based dispel melody took hold, and removed his enhancement. Just in time to, as he hit her with that baton across her left flank. Another injury; a blunt ache to accompany the sharp sting of the gash on her thigh and the scratches on her forearm. Nothing too debilitating yet, thankfully.

Rottweiler noticed soon enough that his power-up was gone. Although he complained, he didn’t seem too worried about it. Probably because the second blood spell was already in effect, and the remaining inmates were raging their way through anyone they encountered. Since she was facing Rottweiler, and thinking about how to bring him down, she was too distracted to notice that the bespelled inmates had gained on them by now. Thus, when two bodies suddenly jumped on her, she was brought down easily. Admittedly, even if she’d been prepared for it, she wouldn’t have been able to withstand that kind of weight.

“Hraargh,” she shouted when she fell, pinned to the ground. It was difficult to breathe the way she and her enemies were positioned. Squirming, she dropped her weapon with a clang – it was too unwieldy to handle just then. Instead, she began using her elbows and knees as she fought off the rabid men. She blocked the one who went for her eyes, but the other latched onto her shoulder, which…well, her armour did block some of it.

She was starting to get really pissed off, and was considering doing some biting of her own, when Breacher came to her rescue, and yanked one of the men off of her back. “Good!” she replied. She channeled spite, fury, and the feral joy of not having to deal with two people on top of her, and punched the other inmate in the chin.

While he was briefly dazed, she glanced at the blood mage. Rottweiler was no longer in front of her, protecting her. Now, there was a free path between her and the mage. Jacqueline locked eyes with Lada, and the latter realized the exact same thing in that moment; that she was vulnerable. However, that did not man she was without a way to protect herself; the other woman began gathering the blood on the floor. This was then swiftly sent towards Jacqueline in the form of spikes.

Thinking quickly, Leroux grabbed the inmate she’d been combating, restraining him at arm’s length as best she could. More importantly, he was directly in front of her, and if all went to plan, a human body would be enough to intercept all those spikes. If she saw the spikes going through him with enough force to extend towards her as well, she was prepared to jump backwards. Meanwhile, she prepared another melody, one that just might knock out the blood mage.

Jacqeuline thought that if Lada was in the middle of one spell, it wasn’t likely that she could get another one off, after all. However, if the damaging beam she’d send at her didn’t work, she’d pick up her war pick, and rush towards her cell to take care of her in melee.

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Havoc | Great Axe | Arcane | Pry
Eternal Knight | Perfectly polished
Forged Arsenal | Earth/Metal | Fissure
[Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), Rain (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Shield (4)

DAMAGE: B | SPEED: D | SENTINEL: D | 500

[Bronze Beam][Damage X] = - 72 Mana

PHYSICAL: E | ARCANE: C | CHAOS: D | 192

Dragonier (Medieval Fantasy, Dragon Riders, Magic, War)

After thinking about it for a while, I've decided that I'm going to shelve this idea for now. I haven't actually roleplayed in a while and I feel like I need to warm up a bit first before continuing this project. I'll return to it once I'm ready.

@TheMerlin

That's a shame tbh, I was looking forward to this. It seemed like this was pretty much ready for playing, besides the magic system you wanted to fiddle with (which looked fine as is, but then again, I don't know what you had in mind). Nevertheless, if you don't feel like GMing or want to put this on a hold for a while, that's entirely up to you.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Caelum Harrington

The Shadow reacted to his question by shouting at them to leave it alone. Which Caelum wouldn’t mind doing, but these things were dangerous. Who knew what consequences leaving them on their own would have? Besides, the more people in their group got their Persona, the better off they’d all be.

Nick immediately tried to placate his shadows, taking a moment to glare at him. Caelum merely shrugged a shoulder, smiling wryly. It wasn’t his fault that this dream-world worked by killing everything in your path – or risking being killed otherwise. Spindle was the one who actually knew something about the place, and she’d been the one to suggest Shadows needed killing, though Nick hadn’t been there for it.

Instead, the other student continued arguing with his Shadow, getting more and more heated as the child-thing criticized and baited him. Caelum stepped back slightly, determinedly not paying attention to what they were saying, though he got the gist of it. Shitty parents, shitty friends, it looked like, though what exactly had had happened to Nick was spoken about vaguely enough that Caelum could only guess at it. Which he had no reason nor desire to, frankly. As it was, he simply waited, letting the conversation progress as it would without any input from him.

Inevitably, the verbal spat culminated in the monster-transformation of the Shadow. It was the most humanoid of any Caelum had seen so far, a giant human-esque creature with multiple limbs and faces for it. The familiarity of its form being so warped made it all the more horrifying, however. Caelum uttered a brief startled shout as it thrashed the room purely due to its size, then threatened to collapse the room as it swung its bludgeon upwards.

Then Nick came barreling out of the room straight towards him. Caelum was grabbed by the hand, and his body twisted awkwardly. Stumbling, he turned the rest of the way around, running as he’d been physically urged to do so. “Al-right, going,” he gasped, shaking Nick’s hand off. He didn’t appreciate being dragged alongside, nor did he want to fall over because of a person who was panicking just as much as he was, if not more.

As they ran outside, Caelum was momentarily relieved to see that backup had already arrived. The feeling of being rescued was short lived, though, because just then the house exploded behind them. Caelum glanced back wildly, seeing a chaotic blast of materials being sent all around, and crouched as quick as he could behind the remains of a nearby wall. Yet that was not all – the monster issued a booming roar, and in that same moment, pools of bloody tar appeared around them. There would be no escape.

As if that was not enough, the Shadow sent something flying, and it clearly exploded with magical force upon impact. Caelum desperately looked around for a weapon. There were plenty of items that could serve as projectiles, but he’d learned the lesson on that from Barney’s Shadow. If he wanted to contribute to bringing the monster down asap, he’d have to find a melee weapon.

There was a lot of debris, glass, pieces of broken furniture…and there! A short piece of rebar. Running to it, Caelum grabbed it in both hands, then crouched behind a knocked over couch. While the others hopefully distracted or engaged the Shadow upfront, he’d sneak to its flank, and stab it with the rebar when the opportunity to do so was there.

Symphony of Espers

Jacqueline Leroux

When Rottweiler drew his pistol, Jacqueline’s whole body tensed, ready to try a last-minute save via a melody or an attempted dodge. However, the martial artist killed four of the prisoners. “Shit,” she hissed, already seeing where this’d go. The blood mage. Of course.

In the brief moment before all hell broke loose, Jacqueline had the presence of mind to send a brief notification through the comms. She’d heard others were dealing with hired espers, and though there was no way there were any other blood mages anywhere else in the building, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to let the others – especially the boss – know. “Engaging a blood mage. Useful tips are welcome,” she messaged her allies.

Then, the mage in question worked her magic, and the death empowered the remaining prisoners. Though she was unaffected by it, she could tell what the spell did, and the furious inmates advanced towards them. “He’s the one who killed those four, or did you already forget that little detail already?!” she shouted at the bespelled prisoners, indicating Rottweiler. She didn’t let Lada’s protector leave her sphere of vision, however, and was soon facing him again.

“You, get out of my way,” she scoffed, aiming another swing of her weapon at him. She didn’t know if an Esper’s dispel could work against a blood mage’s spell, but she was ready to try it out. Thus, she worked a subtle melody, one that would either undo Rottweiler’s blood-enchantment or turn out to be a waste. She just needed to make sure she’d hit him. Since it’d take a while to cast though, Jacqueline had no problem trying to get some mundane hits with her weapon in beforehand.

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Havoc | Great Axe | Arcane | Pry
Eternal Knight | Perfectly polished
Forged Arsenal | Earth/Metal | Fissure
[Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), Rain (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Shield (4)

DAMAGE: B | SPEED: D | SENTINEL: D | 500

[Bronze Touch][Powerful][Dispel] = - 60 Mana

PHYSICAL: E | ARCANE: C | CHAOS: D | 264

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Caelum Harrington

“Alright, let's make a detour then,” Caelum complied tiredly with a sigh. He had an inkling what this might be about, though he was hoping he was wrong. He followed along until they reached Nick’s house – or rather, a replica of its remains. He didn’t comment, but his nose crinkled it disgust; the building was in as much disrepair as any other.

When Nick entered, Caelum didn’t immediately follow, shifting on his feet in discomfort. If this was another encounter with a Shadow, he was not looking forward to it. But then Vincent opened his mouth needlessly, urging him to go. Caelum frowned at the man, who was the one panting now. “So, the healing didn’t help with stamina,” he commented. “Very well, I shall enter…but expect to be called on.” With that, he entered the small house.

There were not many rooms to it, and it was all desolate, abandoned. Finding a small bedroom in which Nick and his Shadow resided was not difficult either. By the time Caelum arrived, though, he caught only the tail end of their conversation. Grimacing, he stopped outside, peering at the duo within.

Their matter was obviously private, and if it were just up to him, he’d leave them to it. He had no idea what to say, or if anything should be said at all – as far as he knew, the Shadows were supposed to be killed. That was what Spindle had said, after all, and what Barney had down with his own double. Yet, Caelum was deeply uncomfortable at the idea of fighting a child, of all things. Of course, if things proceeded as they had so far, the human form was but a guise for the monster within – or they were one and the same, and the monster emerged in the presence of danger.

“Must we combat this one as well?” Caelum questioned, tone betraying his reluctance to do so. It wasn’t just out of sympathy either; he would prefer to avoid further confrontation if possible. He’d had plenty of monster-slaying for a good long while, as far as he was concerned. Perhaps, if he were not so powerless – if he had one of those Persona for himself, he’d feel differently. As it was, if there was a peaceful solution, he’d take it, but in the end, what to do with this Shadow was Nick’s decision.

Symphony of Espers

Jacqueline Leroux

“I'll be fine when these bastards are down,” Jacqueline quipped in response to Breacher’s worried question. As expected, the gun and knife guys were there to stall for time. Rather than backup from more gangers, though, Rottweiler had managed to unearth an actual damned blood mage. Then, the man started spouting off about the mage, how he wanted to free her, and turned to crime because of it, yadda yadda yadda. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” Jacqueline denied the request to let a criminal blood mage, same as Breacher had.

When Rottweiler charged her with a metal detector of all things. Jacqueline did notice his other weapons, but didn’t have the time to worry about whether he was going to use them later on or not. She swung her war pick, aiming to get it tangled with the lover-boy’s unconventional weapon. She was more than aware that whether she disarmed him fast enough or not, she’d have to get out of range of his no doubt superior techniques swiftly. Preparing to do so, she lifted a finger from her weapon mid-swing, aiming a melody at Rottweiler’s chest. Flecks of rust gathered around her finger, then shot in a straight line towards her enemy.

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Havoc | Great Axe | Arcane | Pry
Eternal Knight | Perfectly polished
Forged Arsenal | Earth/Metal | Fissure
[Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), Rain (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Shield (4)

DAMAGE: B | SPEED: D | SENTINEL: D | 500

[Bronze Beam][Damage X] = - 72 Mana

PHYSICAL: E | ARCANE: C | CHAOS: D | 324

Qualia: Mission Sub Rosa

Bothering Kalil

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Collab between @Psyker Landshark, [@Silver Paw], @Click This and @SgtEasy

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The plan was simple. Listen to Koni-something and gather some sort of information on her. Kalil was lucky, all things considered. He could have ended up with a worse target than a quiet-looking German princess. He could bank on the likelihood that whoever she was going to talk to was hopefully not German. And so there he was, conspicuous turban and all, munching on a few Turkish delights while trying to key into another person’s conversation. The greetings so far were German but surely he could pick up a few words. Life decided he couldn’t have it too easy when suddenly-

“I see someone else here cannot stand this...fruit juice either.” Kalil glanced to his side to see a diminutive Eastern Occidental girl in a beautiful dress. A smirk on a pretty face, a welcome sight at any other time. He schooled his features as she continued.

“Back home in Russia, this would be regarded as barely worth of being called alcohol. I take it your homeland also prefers stronger beverages? But where are my manners? Valeriya Zhukova. A pleasure.”

The merchant’s son inclined his head back, keeping his gaze levelled at emerald eyes. A polite smile crept on his face. “Ms. Zhukova, this ‘grape juice’ as you call it, would insult every reputable distillery I knew in Dhaka. We prefer our alcohol clear and fiery where I come from.” He winked and nearly offered a hand but was quickly sidelined by-

“Sorry to intrude, but I couldn’t pass up a conversation so close to my heart,” Another Occidental popped out of nowhere once again. They were multiplying! “When I heard you mention the poor selection,” The man nodded at Valeriya, “I thought…What if we brewed our own? Oh, and the name’s Kiran Agnarsson, from Iceland.”

Kalil kept his smile up and nodded to Kiran, laughing politely. How many people are going or hamper his stalking? “I think the faculty would quickly disapprove of such a venture but I am good at hiding such things.” He gestured to the pipe clipped to his side. “I know where to get privacy for forbidden ventures.” He let the insinuation hang in the air.

Kiran grinned at the easy agreement, and the offer to contribute. “Marvelous. As for the faculty...Well, I, or someone else, could subtly ask around at the adults’ compound...I betcha some of them are suffering for a good drink as much as we are. Could even use their help for cover up. Or just keep it among the students, I’m fine with either. As long as who the source and dealers are is hidden it’ll probably work out.”

Valeriya covered up an expression of mild surprise as someone she was more familiar with, if only by reputation, intruded on the conversation. Agnarsson, was it? The mobile suit inventor was something of an interest to her, if only because of his field of work. All other considerations aside, he was somewhat of a direct competitor to her own powered armor designs. In terms of reputation and competition, that was something she’d have to deal with eventually.

Still, it was something of a surprise she hadn’t encountered either of these gentlemen on the cruise over. For the duration of the previous month, Valeriya had been doing her best to blend in as an ordinary student while on the ship: socializing, establishing contacts, and working on her designs as best she could without a workshop. That, and getting other students into her bed, male and female alike. Not strictly within her mission parameters, but the fact of being independent without adult supervision for the first time plus teenage hormones meant that plenty of students on the ship had done the same. Of course, protection had been used. She’d been curious, not stupid.

“Already?” Valeriya quirked a brow in response to Kiran’s statement of privacy. “I’m impressed. Still, I would not mind going along with this. The ship alone already lacked proper alcohol. I know little of brewing, but some research should fix that. It would be an interesting...side project.”

That wasn’t a lie, either. While Valeriya wasn’t intending to get drunk, a shot of vodka or any other firewater to calm the nerves helped every once in a while. And alcohol on hand would be very helpful in plying other students for information or otherwise…

“I do know some of the how, at least for brennivín,” Kiran commented. He was also considering the cost of ingredients, whether it’d be suspicious to order them to be delivered at-bulk from the warehouse, and exactly how many stills they should set-up. He’d trust the Oriental fellow to handle the place and secrecy, while Valeriya was eager enough to refine the brewing so their product would be something worthwhile.

Kalil nodded along, keeping an ear still extended to listen to the conversation he was wanting to actually listen in on. He found it hard to pick out words in another language he was not fluent in. He decided he had some time, the night was young after all. A mercantile conversation like this one he could definitely chip in on.

“Start early enough and demand would be high. With the amount of teenagers here-” He gestured around the room with his sweet-filled hand “- they would be salivating at the chance for a quick way to get drunk. I have methods to keep this discreet, so as to avoid alerting any do-gooders or other entrepreneurs. Quick and easy money could be earned for those willing.”

His mind raced with possibilities already. They needed a brand, untraceable to themselves but recognisable as a way of advertisement. They had methods of production, they were all polymaths after all. Geniuses and prodigies willing to get money and booze. Method of transfer? Use of lockers, a new locker and combination released to the student populace by word of mouth. Weekly? Fortnightly? Who could be trusted? Kalil glanced around at his fellow schemers. You never knew when you would be roped into a bad business deal. He waved his hand in front of his face.

“Pah, but the night is young. And I did not get out of my father’s teachings just to waltz into another mercantile venture. This is school but we are at a party, we should relax, no?” His voice strained slightly at the mention of his father but he continued on. Best to divert conversation for now. He would continue but he felt another presence enter the conversation.
“Excuse me,” Another voice, this time in Latin, interjected itself. A finger was pointed towards Kalil’s sweet-filled hand. “I was looking to try some of those, but the kitchen ran out. May I have one?”

Before he could whirl around, another wild voice appeared then disappeared just as quick. "Hm? They didn't run out, there's a lot of those jelly-things all over the hall."

How many people would want to butt into the conversation? This was getting ridiculous. Kalil just stood there, darting his eyes between the Turkish sweets and the tan-skin girl now within the group.

Kiran raised an eyebrow at the intruder. Well, even if Gharbi hadn’t suggested they enjoy the festivities, this bafflingly forceful girl would have put an end to their previous conversation. It certainly couldn’t be true catering was so lacking - if one needed further evidence but their own eyes, a boy passing them by informed them that the unlikely scenario described by the girl was indeed untruthful. Then, she must have simply wished or needed to speak to Gharbi in particular. But why was the question. Kiran decided then and there that she, and perhaps some of the others as well, would require observation.

Nazca’s own forceful insertion into the conversation was hampered, but not thwarted by the unhelpful… help from the random passing student.

“False news. I will have to see it to believe it,” she replied, mostly to her target, rather than the passing man that was already long gone. She kept her hand out for a Turkish Delight. “May I?”

It would seem the tan-skinned girl had no shame. Nonetheless, she would force the conversation into Latin. Who spoke Chinese in the western hemisphere, anyway? Rude tourists?

The rudeness of the girl took him out of the atmosphere of the group and Kalil glanced around. Where was she? One second he had been hearing some far-off, vaguely familiar German nearby and now, nothing. He was supposed to take an easy stance but he could no do anything if he did not know where she was. He appraised this new tan-girl, seeing a way out, switching to Latin for her sake.

“Ah but how rude of me to hoard the sweets like this.” He placed all of the sweets into the outstretched hand and mock-bowed. “And thus the unknown lady has all the treasure I can give her. If I can be excused, I feel myself wanting to partake in a treat of my own.” He smiled, patting the pipe on his side.

“Ah, thank you.” Nazca graciously accepted the handful of sweets and proceeded to pop one in her mouth to enjoy on the spot. Yep, it was a Turkish Delight.

“Oh, but where are my manners? Nazca Whitehall. Sorry for the intrusion, consider it a favor owed,” she added, with a pleasant curtsy to accompany her apology, her eyes meeting Kalil’s, and then Valeriya and the Icelander. “Pleasant event, yes? Perhaps I can help you with that as a recompense?”

The Bengal pet smiled but shook his head. “Indeed it is a pleasant event but no need for favours at all. I am Kalil Gharbi, these are my fellow alcoholics Mr. Agnarsson and Ms. Zhukova. Pleasure to meet you Ms. Whitehall. Now if you’ll excuse me, I will have to take myself to a more private venue to relieve my throat. Good doctor recommended the vapour to soothe it. I will meet you all soon.” He bowed curtly and made to step out of the circle.

Well, well. What had him in such a rush? Valeriya noted Kalil had been looking around the room for something during the latter bit of that conversation. Interesting. Something to keep an eye on him for now if she could, and a mental note for later.

The newcomer...well, wasn’t exactly a newcomer to her. Valeriya and Nazca had already met on the ship. But this was something of a surprise, as well. Back on the ship, Nazca had been largely stoic. Well, the girl still seemed rather unfazed in appearance. She’d certainly never been that forceful before.

“Oh, don’t worry. Nazca and I are already somewhat acquainted. We’ve met on the ship.” Valeriya waved Kalil off, occasionally tracking him from the corner of her eye as she nodded to Nazca. “And how have you been, then?” She swapped to Latin, gesturing between the two still gathered with her.

“Nazca, Kiran. Kiran, Nazca. I’m somewhat acquainted with both your work in one fashion or another. Are you with each other’s?”

Nazca immediately moved to intercept Kalil as he left. “Mr. Gharbi, Mr. Agnarsson, Valeriya. A pleasure. Now, that is actually something I can help you with. You see, the cutting-edge doctors I know back in London recommend against ‘vapours’ to relieve the throat. In fact, throat lozenges are by far more effective.” She blocked his exit. “I must protest for your own health.”

The man sputtered, looking almost incredulous at the girl blocking his way. Alright. That did not go as planned. Time to bring the big guns. He leaned into Nazca, putting a hand on her shoulder as he did so, whispering in a low voice. “Ah, I must admit, despite myself wont for company as well and beautiful as yourself Ms. Whitehall, I do need to excuse myself. I’m afraid it’s a need for relief that is the reason for my leave. I’ve found myself eating much too many sweets today and my stomach is floundering like a dying elephant.”

Kalil leaned back and winked, making to step aside whilst turning around towards the other two, giving a short bow before turning to leave.

Kiran raised both brows at Nazca’s continued aggression. It was almost comedic, how she hounded Kalil, while he - for some unknown reason - desperately attempted to leave while making any kind of excuse he could seem to come up with. Kiran had no reason to force Kalil to stay here, and in a moment of sympathy attempted to maneuver himself in such a way that would prevent Nazca’s advance and possibly allow Kalil to escape. Meanwhile, he also picked up the previous thread of conversation offered by Valeriya. “While I am familiar with yours as well, Valeriya, I cannot say the same for Nazca’s,” Kiran admitted, switching to Latin.

“However, if we are to discuss our projects, I suggest we sit down to dine,” Kiran pointedly waved the untouched plate of meat he’d been holding in his left hand for the duration of the conversation.

Nazca only responded once she was confident she had Kalil boxed in. “No. But it’s a good suggestion. Why don’t we all sit together and talk? And I’m sure we can find a solution for that throat problem, too.”

“Ah, let the poor man smoke if he would,” Kiran said. “I’m sure he’ll return shortly in any case, and then you’ll have all the time you like to pursue him,” he attempted to placate the girl. Truthfully, if he were in Kalil’s place, he wouldn’t willingly go anywhere near such an unreasonable girl. Whether her motives were truly suspect or she simply lacked manners and possibly wished a more personal engagement with Kalil, Kiran thought he owed some assistance to a would-be-ally.

Nazca just tilted her head, feigning ignorance. “You’ve eaten too many sweets, so you must partake in the vapors? The practice originated in my homeland, and it will ruin your life if taken in excess. I must protest.”

Valeriya just looked amused as Nazca desperately moved to keep Kalli ensnared for whatever reason. Well, all things considered, this worked just fine for her. So she’d go along with it.

“Of course. Dinner does look good.” The blonde Russian looked upon the various international cuisines with interest, especially the Oriental dishes. “Let’s go find some seats, then.”

Kalil watched this all unfold with a sort of gobsmacked expression on his face but at least gave a face of thanks to Kiran. Alright, why can’t people take the hint? Were all foreign women so infuriating?

He let out a breath and stepped backwards. “I am going to leave to relieve myself in the men’s room, I will be back shortly. Thank you for your leave.” He quickly pivoted and nearly tripped on his own feet before hurrying out of there as much as his pride would allow him. That Nazca was someone to look out for. Now if only he could find his goal?

Nazca huffed as the Mughal man disappeared from view. She had come onto him hard, yes, but that was not a reaction she had expected at all. Was he just a pansy or was he hiding something? Probably the former, but duty meant she would have to continue investigating. Bluntly, if required.

“Well, that was a shame. Sorry, what was your name again, Mr. Icelandic?”

“That was eventful,” Kiran muttered to himself in his mother tongue. To Nazca, he replied in Latin, “It’s Kiran, miss-in-heat,” tone amused as he gave her a pointed questioning look. “Ah, but let’s take a seat,” he shook his head, an awkward smile still in place, as he proceeded to find them some empty seats. He’d intended to suggest they find some privacy upstairs, but with Nazca’s pugnacious advances, he preferred to remain in public, where it’d be easier to distract or elude her if needed. After he found an appropriate place, he set his plate down, laid his suitcase next to the chair, sat down, and proceeded to cut his meat into pieces.

Symphony of Espers

Jacqueline Leroux

The boss informed them they’d be left without support fire as Valkyrie engaged the boss. “Noted,” Jacqueline affirmed curtly.
Thankfully, Breacher had listened to her suggestion, and distracted the chain-wielder while she readied her melody. Unfortunately, despite being rooted to the spot due to Breacher’s work, another man appeared, saving the chain-wielder from death. “Tch,” Jacqueline complained, directing an ire filled gaze at the newcomer.

Rottweiler. And he’d immediately known they were espers – so, he had experience fighting them. “Me neither,” she agreed grimly with Breacher’s assessment. “We’ll have to be careful, can’t rely on overpowering them easily,” she noted. She was sure Breacher knew that already, but honestly, she could use the reminder. Because now, these gangsters were upgraded in her mind from ‘trash’ to ‘worth consideration’.

Jacqueline followed after Breacher, using her shield as a cover while they descended downstairs. In the basement were the prisoners – potential hostages or even enemies, depending on whether the mobsters would let them loose. If she knew that any of these would be willing to assist them in exchange for some money…No, she still wouldn’t do it, because that was definitely something she needed authorization for. Her inspection lingered slightly on the businessman – partially because he seemed the calmest, partially because of the suit.

She didn’t really get much time to contemplate whether and how she’d have to protect the jailed people. Two other men were acting here as backup while Rottweiler did who knew what – possibly contact some other people via his radio.

A man with knives taped to his wrists charged at her, which was all sorts of ridiculous. Jacqueline swung at him, the greater reach of her weapon allowing her to do so without worry. However, she managed to clip him at best, bruising his backside while he evaded, getting close to her with that move. As fast as he was crazy, then. She got slashed across her thigh in exchanged.

She whirled around to face the man, shifting her hold on the war pick. It was now parallel to the floor, held similarly to the spear. Leroux then drove the weapon forward, thumping into the man with the top part. The weapon wasn’t designed to be particularly damaging that way, but it hit the guy in the stomach, and winded him briefly.

While she readied for another hit, he recovered enough to charge her again. Tired of this game, Jacqueline sidestepped him just in time to dodge, and stuck a foot out to trip him. The knife-guy stumbled, but this time, she didn’t give him a chance for another charge. She turned quickly, using the movement to swing her weapon at him. Finally, it was a direct hit to the face. The man had been quick enough to raise his knives, and scratch up her left forearm, but not so swift to properly block. Thus, he was knocked out, his face rather messier for it.

All in all, the fight hadn’t been long. Still, Jacqueline knew that just as the two of them were finished with theirs, all other sorts of things could have happened in the meanwhile. Which is why she quickly faced where the remaining enemies had been previously, assessing the situation.

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Havoc | Great Axe | Arcane | Pry
Eternal Knight | Perfectly polished
Forged Arsenal | Earth/Metal | Fissure
[Quake (2), Mass (2)] Damage X (6), Rain (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Dispel (6), Shield (4)

DAMAGE: B | SPEED: D | SENTINEL: D | 500

PHYSICAL: E | ARCANE: C | CHAOS: D | 396

Star Wars: Shattered Galaxy Roleplay

The merchant square of Ostro reminded Jinaath of those early years living in the Eriadu slums. The mercantile-oriented nature, structure, and the species involved were wildly different, and yet…Back home, there too had been hastily constructed habitations, peddlers on the streets hawking their wares, would-be thieves slinking among the crowds searching for an opportunity to steal. Even the transitory nature was similar, though much more apparent here. Of course, there was also the fact that those people who knew each other stuck together.

Yet, he’d seen no group either as large nor as self-contained as the Miraluka community upon Eriadu had been. In fact, he had not come across any Miraluka, here. And what if he had? As he’d learned, though his ancestors might have once been a united people, as soon as the Miraluka fled Alpheridies in fragmented groups such an ideal had suffered a quiet death. No, despite the attempted intrusion of fond memories – playing with Vier, Mi’ik, Xer, Sumi, the calm teachings of Iolac, the companionship of Lanein, Eimeh, Xereey as they served the Houzran, his mother’s support, before… – he could not rely upon such ephemeral things.

Rather, he had engraved upon his mind the precise arc of his mother’s body as it was struck down, the deceptively gentle sway of her hair as she fell, her shrill scream, pleading, his name the last feeble whisper upon her unresponsive lips, a rictus of despair overtaking her…the blood, oh, the blood. It strengthened him, stoked his determination ablaze, and brought him as close as could be to that visceral reaction of excruciating wrath. But that power he’d felt back then eluded him, tauntingly remaining out of his grasp. Inevitably, his emotions would fluctuate towards grief, regret – or worse yet, his old mentor’s voice would suddenly infringe upon his psyche, espousing control, as if he were haunted by some sort of a ghost.

Some days, he didn’t even bother anymore, living simply as if he were one of the myriads of witless refugees who lacked any proper ambition. It fueled his self-loathing, whenever he emerged out of such a funk, but such was his life now. And as much as he itched for more, his lack of resources forced him to seek employment. Certainly, he could have resorted to petty theft – or even purposeless murder – yet neither appealed to him. Perhaps his intact morals were what prevented him access to the so-called dark side, however…if he lost himself in his search for dominion, what would the point of it all be? Is it truly losing yourself that you fear? Or that you may not have yet discovered who you are, beneath all these layers of self-deception? a different part of him whispered. Jinaath shook it off, however. He had work to do.

Work for Jin was being a hiree at a small-time yet stable merchant, who’d been there since a few months ago as far as he knew. The middle-aged man was a Chiss who went by Tisok, since his whole name wasn’t something most foreigners could pronounce. He ran an electronics and repair shop, repurposing scrap and junk into trinkets, fiddling with machinery people brought in to get it working, and so on. Since Jinaath had offered his services as a splicer, the mechanic’s customer had expended, but he insisted keeping a place near the edge of the square rather than moving towards the center. Which was just as well given that they offered questionably legal services.

Besides his hacking, and minor assistance to Tisok’s repairs, Jinaath was basically a glorified errand-boy. He bought parts they needed, went around selling whatever had stayed in the shop too long, and investigated (and subverted) the competition. Not that the latter mattered too much in a place like this. Currently, he was on a return trip, carrying a burlap sack with a few items he’d procured.

When he returned, an odd scene was unfolding at Tisok’s place. All the small screens he had, from computers, to televisions, to viewscreens had been interconnected hastily, and were currently displaying a video from the bridge. Jinaath arrived just in time to see the leader of the takeover, and hear his speech. Tisok let it run till the end, including the execution, which panicked the watchers. Jinaath could sense their fear, confusion, desire to flee.

Meanwhile, all he felt was a righteous fury. The fleet might not have been a decent place, all things considering, but these scum had crossed a line. Now, the anger came easily, eagerly, and would not be quelled by platitudes. “Are you really gonna let these bastards do as they please?” he shouted his frustration into the scattering crowd, slapping a palm upon the table full of not-quite-delicate machinery. The Chiss owner frowned at him reproachfully, but was more concerned with packing up.

As for the others…They were too shaken up by the real-time recording of a murder, Jinaath could tell. Scoffing, he turned to Tisok, handing over the items. The man grunted, then paused to study him seriously. With another species, they would have met gaze to gaze, but as it was, the Chiss would just get a really good look at his mask – in another circumstance, that would be amusing. Today, Jin merely waited impatiently for the man to get on with it.

“I ain’t waitin’ on ya to change yer mind, lad,” he finally uttered gruffly. Jin shrugged – he’d expected so much. “How ‘bout you give me some good stuff as a farewell gift?” Jinaath suggested dryly. Tisok shook his head, muttering something in Cheunh under his breath. Jinaath did receive something, though it was just a scramble key. It wasn’t a computer, but better than nothing. “Thanks,” he said, pocketing the lock picker into the inner side of his dark grey robe.

Then came his self-imposed ordeal of sifting through the emotions of all the ship-folk, finding those with sufficient anger, irritation, displeasure, or variation thereof. He approached each such person, exchanging quiet words, offering encouragement and co-operation, refining ideas for a counter-attack, and coordinating plans. His search eventually led him to a bar, full of riled up people. “Hey, hey!” he shouted to get attention. “Is this the meeting place for the resistance, or what? Might wanna relay that info to the others!”