Stanifly

◈ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒 | Κάθαρσις ◈

<Snipped quote by Stanifly>

Really!? lol

@Tlazolteotl

yeh, Teresa's got some recent complicated history with the roles of heroes and villains in her city. I'm just hoping I can write her well w/o overcomplicating things too much, but that's why she's here anw: to get that char development! muhahah

so far I'm loving the keeper posts! it's giving spec fic vibes. tbh I almost had Teresa see 'em as a creature too but then I realised you didn't actually specify anything weird besides the keeper being a figure too big for Catharsis' space that somehow still fit, so I kept it vague.

thanks for the clarification 🔥

◈ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒 | Κάθαρσις ◈

:O are you a telepath? bc that response from the server was perfect heheh

and yes, I'm excited for our chars to mingle 🤗

◈ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒 | Κάθαρσις ◈

I throweth my hat in the ring... sorry for interrupting your calm atmosphere sirpa 😔

◈ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒 | Κάθαρσις ◈

The pivotal moment. It was a thing of inevitability in every hero’s life. That moment when everything fell into place, when the right choice bled into clarity, when the person in that moment knew exactly what needed to be done.

That moment for Teresa was now. Or–it had been. Teresa stumbled to a stop, sword in hand, breaths hot and heavy. She blinked once. Twice.

The bar around her didn’t go away. The wood beneath the soles of her boots remained. The faint scent of fireplace smoke tickled her nose. The soft chatter of other patrons drifted around her. None of them seemed particularly bothered at her sudden appearance.

She knew this place, but it was... off. For one, it didn’t usually have a fireplace. For two, she didn’t recognise anyone here. Not the bartender, not the patrons, not the server wandering through the space. Her mind raced with questions – what happened how did I get here who did this – only to settle on the most important thing: she needed to get back.

Now, if anyone were looking at her, they would be greeted with a sorry sight indeed. Her silver costume coated in soot and dust; the fringe of her turquoise hair plastered to her face with sweat; and a cut slashed across her right bicep, splitting flesh and fabric alike. Clearly, she had come from somewhere far from the idyllic nature of this apparent bar she found herself in the middle of now.

Despite the panic racing in her veins, Teresa allowed a tense, neutral expression to slide over her face as she sheathed her sword into the hilt hanging off her belt. No matter where she had been before, there were civilians here. She couldn’t cause a fuss. She just needed to leave, get back to where she needed to be and everything would be okay. They had to be. It was with this thought in mind that she strode over to the bar’s entrance and pulled open the wooden door.

Cosmic colours greeted her. Not space, exactly. It was more akin to an abyss, a deep, gaping maw of black lit up by ethereal trails of hot and cold hues. There wasn’t much else Teresa picked up; hard to do that when she immediately slammed the door shut. She looked out the windows. They showed nothing but the same street she’d always seen. She looked around the bar, wary. Nothing had changed since she had appeared here. She was in a place that she should know – and yet, everything felt off-kilter. Her gaze fixed onto the server by the fireplace, drawn by their jarring solidity. In a few quick steps, Teresa approached them and drew her sword, pointing its tip at their neck. She paid no mind to the patron they were addressing. There was no need to.

‘Your illusion,’ she says, voice low. ‘Undo it. Now.’

For what else could this be than a distraction?

◈ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒 | Κάθαρσις ◈

Silver Blade

(known to some as Teresa)

Appearance
Hero Costume | Standing at 1.7 metres, Silver Blade finds her advantage in height a useful tool indeed, especially when she needs to loom over villains in a menacing manner. Her hero costume consists of a long-sleeved high-low dress with a turtleneck collar, skintight pants, and a white lens mask, all woven with plexifibre (a tough, durable fabric). The dress and pants are silver, and the dress is accented by sea green details along the hem. She has olive skin and her hair is a natural turquoise, cut in a chin-length bob.

Age | 27
Gender | Female
Occupation | Superhero. Yes, that is an unironic job title on her home world.

Abilities
| Swordfighting. Teresa is trained in the ways of the sword and specialises in longswords, glaives and polearms.
| Self-healing. Teresa is capable of healing her own injuries at will, to the extent of growing new organs or limbs to replace lost ones. A fatal strike to the brain or heart will still kill her, though.

This sheet may be updated as the RP goes on.

◈ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒 | Κάθαρσις ◈

oh yay that's a fun answer >:) thanks! will probs have my post + cs up by some time today

◈ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒 | Κάθαρσις ◈

@Stanifly, if you need any help just let me know!

@Tlazolteotl

oop good timing, I've got a question. what happens if a character tries to leave through the front door? do they just... actually leave Catharsis?

◈ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒 | Κάθαρσις ◈

holy moly I haven't seen a sandbox rp that was immediately up my alley in ages :O just checking, do we literally just jump in/out any point in time with any character (so long as it makes narrative sense)? no need for character sheet submissions and the like?

Ex Nihilo

HAILA

When breath ghosted over her scales, Haila stilled once more. The Arist was here. Here! With her! Who would've thought she'd be privy to such an encounter in her lifetime, much less than a day into her Wander?

Then the nature of his question registered.

'Nothing! Nothing. Sir. Just observing. Sir.' Slowly, she lowered her head, her mane flattening against her neck in deference.

Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised. The Arist had reached out to her, despite the distance between them; but even then, she hadn't expected him to approach her directly. Why would she? She'd been doing nothing but watching the scene in the human village play out.

'Why did you help them?' she sent, in a fleeting moment of boldness. 'You killed a traitor to protect the human hatchling.'

---

🄴🅁🄸🅂🄴🄳

'English, Wurld, whatever, it's the same to me,' said Erised, ''S'long as I understand it.'

The only human who she could understand and it was a kid. Typical. At least the kid hadn't broken down crying because of her swearing. Or freaked out about her wings. That would've been annoying.

Actually, the kid seemed to be calmer than she'd expected, considering everything that had happened. Not to say that Erised wasn't glad the kid wasn't in hysterics, but that was a quick recovery. The perks of being a protagonist, she supposed. Or maybe the human kids around here were just plain weird. Who the hell knew with this place?

'Nature,' she said, in response to the kid's question. The desires of the people around them rumbled - and not in a pleasant manner. Ungrateful bunch. Erised was not in the mood for running, or flying in a hurry, out of this village. Maybe if the horse hadn't decided that swallowing her whole was a great pastime, she wouldn't have minded. As it was, the kid and the oaf would be the ones enjoying a nice ride on good ol' Bessie while Erised worked her wings. Irritation flickered through her. She didn't even need to run.

'Hey, you speak their language, right?' said Erised to the kid, gesturing to the townspeople lingering around. 'And you're real good at being demanding, screaming left and right. Do me a favour and translate for me to the good people here, will ya?' Turning to their audience, she lifted a fist to her mouth and cleared her throat, dramatically loud.

'Right, she's a kid. Gotta keep it PG. Wait, shit, I always get long-winded with these things, does she have the attention span to keep up? Better keep it short. Two sentences then. Maybe three? ...This is gonna get real awkward if I don't say something soon.'

'Piss off,' she announced. With a flick of her fingers, desire popped into the physical plane - long, thin spikes that hovered in the air between them and the townspeople, wavering threateningly. 'Or die. Ungrateful shits.'

A little too short for her taste, but it'd be a waste of breath to launch into a spiel of intimidation when they couldn't understand half the things she said. Or all of it, in this case.

Movement caught her attention and she glanced over at the big oaf, who was scribbling away in what apparently passed as a notepad here.

'Is now seriously the time? Unbelievable.'

---

CHERYL LUSBY

& PIPER

While Cheryl wasn't known for her expressiveness, she reasoned that much of her reaction could be blamed on extreme exhaustion. That, and the fact that she genuinely hadn't expected Jack to be this much of an arrogant dumbass. She stared, wide-eyed, as he practically blew his top, spewing enough illogic that she considered sensitively, for just one second, that perhaps he was brain-dead. Then he drew his sword and Cheryl - again, she was blaming her tiredness - furrowed her brows in disbelief. What in the fire...? Was that an Arist-based sword? Jack was off before she could take a proper second look, presumably to do something stupid.

With a sigh, Cheryl took hold of Guinea's reigns.

'Come on, girl,' she cooed, petting her along the chin. 'You'd bite a dumbass like him, wouldn't you? Yes, you would.' Guinea choked and snapped her incisors at Cheryl's hand in a show of affection. 'I know, I know, you're a good girl.'

Screams rang out from the shack, male and female alike. Two sole voices - both had that cracking, warbling tone that came with age. They rang clear through the thin, deteriorating walls of the shack.

'Oh, mercy, have mercy!'

'Don't hurt us! Take what you want!'

Ignoring the noise, Cheryl lead Guinea to the side of the shack, instructed her to stay, then fetched her bedroll from the back of the saddle. She placed a hand on the saddlebag, then hesitated.

See, she wasn't a fan of carrying this much money on her. Folks who knew what to look for would easily paint her a target to rob or whatever, and she was not in the mood to deal with more idiots. After a few moments of thinking it over, she made her decision and opened the saddlebag. Once she was done, she closed it and then whistled, a short, familiar ditty.

'Dun wanna,' grumbled Piper. His mental voice was faint, garbling slightly with the weak connection.

'You got to sleep. You take watch.' He shifted once, twice, and then got up, claws digging slightly into her shoulders as his back bunched up into a stretch. His jaws opened wide and his ears folded back, the top of his head flattening into a huge yawn.

'Whatever.' Even as he sent it, he was already hopping onto Guinea's back. He circled, sat, then started gnawing at something between his toes. Satisfied, Cheryl walked to the shack's front opening, her bedroll tucked under her arm. Coming to a stop behind Jack, she peered around his arm. A thoroughly unsurprising scene greeted her, illuminated by Beckon Season's moonlight filtering softly through the gaps in the roof.

The inside of the shack was in no better condition than the outside. Mould spread across the floor in wide swatches and crawled up the walls. Some of the floorboards had fallen through, rotting on damp soil. On the left, there was a stool with a broken leg in the corner nearest to them and a small bookshelf with collapsed shelves along the wall. A half-assed guard post that had been abandoned halfway, Cheryl guessed. The lack of windows was a glaring sign. There were only gaps in the walls where parts of the boards had rotted through.

At first glance it seemed like the one square room took up the entirety of the shack, but there was another opening at the back, barely hidden in the shadows. Seemed like a storage room, big enough for a child to sit in, legs drawn up, but not enough to sleep in, unfortunately.

Resigned, Cheryl returned her gaze to the spectacle in the first room. A crude, unlit campfire was in the middle of the space, sticks neatly arranged on a ring of stones. That was about the only thing neat here. A pile of clothes and knick-knacks seemed to have been tossed against the bookshelf and two thick burlap bedrolls were haphazardly strewn in the back left corner. One old woman sat on one of the bedrolls, sobbing in a faded nightie.

'Please spare us,' she blubbered through tears. 'Oh Lord, we was just trying to provide for ourselves, young man, please.'

'Take what you want!' the old man said for what was probably the fifth time. He was on his knees in front of Jack, hands clutched together in a death grip as he shook them at Jack's feet. 'We have, we have food, we have lots of it, we have money, oh for fire's sake, take the donkey-'

'How will we travel, Rennard?' wailed the woman.

'It's better we live than die over a donkey!'

Other than the random shit scattered about the room, it was pretty clear there was nothing around that could mean ill intent. Having had enough, Cheryl elbowed past Jack.

'Shut. Up.' She did not shout, but she said it with enough meaning that the old couple fell silent. 'We're not here to rob you.' She turned on her heel, squinting up at Jack with utter condescension.

'Turns out that there isn't anyone here moronic enough to camp out in this filthy place-' she pointed to the floor '-across a flaming dragon grove-' she pointed at said grove across the path '-in the slightest chance that they'd get to jump two idiots like us who'd stop right here during Beckon Season. What a flaming surprise.' She dropped her arm. 'Maybe listen to the local next time.' She turned away, not giving one slice of meat what Jack had to say, and looked down at the old man.

'Get up, Rennard,' she said, not unkindly. He scrambled to his feet, but hunched, half-bowing in an act of submission. Cheryl sighed again. 'It's a misunderstanding. Sleep with your wife, we're just here to camp.'

'Oh, thank you, thank you, young 'un, thank ye kindly-'

She tuned out the response. Between the couple's bedrolls taking up a good half of the shack; the bookshelf and the pile of clothes on the left; the campfire in the middle; the broken stool in the left corner nearest the entrance; and all the damned rotting floorboards, the only place stable enough to lie on was right where they stood and the corner on their right. They could throw out the broken stool and have them each take a corner but even then, it wasn't the most spacious situation.

Regardless, she was the one with her bedroll at hand. Quickly - and perhaps irrationally - she tossed it into the corner before Jack could call dibs.

'Piper's keeping watch outside, if you care,' she said over her shoulder. She bent down to untie the bedroll, then hesitated.

She didn't care about his situation. At all. It was an inconvenience and an annoyance, and frankly if it wasn't for all the threats looming over her and Piper, she'd be very happy to leave him. But if she'd connected the dots right...

She was no parent, but the notion of one missing out on their child growing up entirely only reminded her of who she'd lost tonight.

'Think of it this way,' she said, gruffly, without looking at him. Mildly aware of the two other people in the room, she chose her words carefully. 'At least she became someone powerful. She's safe.' Then, because she couldn't resist, ''Course, doesn't mean I'm safe. She could kill me any time I'm no longer useful. Great stuff.'

Awkwardly, the bedroll was rolled out; a sad, lumpy thing. Something else from Jack's earlier rant floated into her thoughts. She frowned.

'Who's Sherlock?'

Ex Nihilo

🄴🅁🄸🅂🄴🄳

Erised hadn't been expecting a response from the duo, so it was unsurprising when the big oaf stared dumbly at her and the kid shied away. Desire shifted behind her. She looked over her shoulder, only turning around when she realised the dragon sitting on a human-siding dragon carcass had moved towards her. The show of power that followed...surprised her. She refused to be intimidated.

It had felt like restraint, a lingering, disgusting taste of suppression washing over her. Gross. It didn't burn, however, so she could assume that the dragon couldn't manipulate restraint itself.

Then it spoke. Of all the creatures that could've spoken her language, it was a dragon. Weirdly too. Kind of like when she spoke to souls in the sixth plane. Could he do that too? Was that how she knew her name? Also who the hell did he think he was, nicknaming her the second they met? The questions were quickly discarded when the dragon's words registered. Her expression twisted into ugly fury; her wings flared up, bristling.

'Gre-' she started, only to shut her mouth when the dragon had the audacity to talk over her, turning his gaze to the kid. Some exposition followed - seriously, what kind of cliche Chosen One shit was this - and a beat after the kid yelled at the dragon to stop, Erised yelled out, 'I'm not grey, y'bitch lizard! You're the one who tastes like it!'

Grey. Grey. Grey meant restraint. Grey was the robot. Grey wasn't Erised. Erised burned a fiery, hot red and she wore the damn colour like a badge. This stupid dragon must've been colourblind. What, was he hit in the head as a child-baby dragon-whatever. The only being to actually understand her in this place and it was some dipshit, colourblind prick!

'And I can still see you,' she said. 'Think you magically disappeared like some cool, wise-ass magical beast? Jokes on you, you're just walking away like a loser!'

By seeing him, she did not mean visually, but his desire burned bright as day just as everyone else's did. In a moment of spite, she took a better look at his more base desires - to move, to breathe - and the desire she sensed vaguely resembled his silhouette. Not that anyone would know what exactly she saw, so it ended up being a slightly pathetic, petty show of power for herself.

'Dick,' she muttered under her breath for good measure. Slowly, she took in a deep breath, crossed her arms and then exhaled. Right then, out of the corner of the eye, she noticed a pair of watery, wide eyes staring at her. She looked at the kid.

'Please, help me... I don't know where I am...'

Oh, hell no.

'Kid, I don't know where the hell I am. You get used to it.' When the kid only continued to cry, discomfort crept over Erised and she turned on her heel, shoving gloved hands into her pant pockets. 'Big guy here will take care of ya. See you around never.'

She meant it. Just, what the hell? She'd only just got here and the dimension was already trying to get rid of her. Magic: big, fat red flag. She could deal with random powers, genetic mutations, sci-fi bullshit, weird ass phenomenons - but specific magic with witches who knew how to use said specific magic was very, very bad. There wasn't any reason to add to the pile by associating with who was obviously a main protagonist. She stomped back towards the stables, ignoring the gawking townspeople. Let them stare. Any plans of blending into the background was shot to bits at this point, thanks very much, lizard. She was booking it out of here. Her horse was stood in its stall, calm - right, hadn't the dragon done...something? - but as Erised neared, it snorted, shifting its hooves uneasily.

'Come on, Bessie,' said Erised placatingly. She reached out to the horse, slowly. 'It's-'

It bit her. To clarify, it jerked its head forward, not unalike how a snake would strike, and clamped its teeth down on her hand, right up to her wrist. Erised shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

Then howled, with a few pleasant profanities peppered in.

She stomped back out the stables, shaking her arm as her gloved hand reformed itself (it had been a lot easier to replicate a new one than to pry open the horse's mouth).

'Fine!' she grit out to the kid and the oaf. The dimension was already treating her like shit - might as well kick its timeline's ass sideways. 'You wanna know where you are, kid? Then let's find out. You can take the damn horse-' Her words stuttered to a stop. 'Wait, did you just speak Wurld?'

---

HAILA

An Arist was in the village and Secor had said nothing about it. Haila released an indignant chuff from where she sat in the branches of another sturdy tree. An Arist sighting was a big deal, not something to be skimmed over!

Then again, they had been in somewhat of a hurry to get the clan ready for everything unbelievable that was happening right now, so maybe there hadn't been enough time to stop and tell her. Still.

'Could you warn me about the return of an extinct species next time?' she sent to Secor.

'We're not involved. Keep your head down and don't attract attention. Status update on the winged human?'

'Yes, she's landed.' Haila dipped her head. 'It's a human hatchling.'

'That makes it worse. Human hatchlings wouldn't know how to wield that kind of power.'

'I-Secor, they're talking.'

'Who are?'

'The Arist, with the winged human hatchling and the other two humans the traitors were chasing. They-'

Another voice broke into the conversation, rumbling in the space she resided in.

'Don’t be foolish, Haila. Listen to your brethren. Stay back. Humans cannot be trusted. Only family.'

She stilled. Her body didn't move. Not a single twitch in her wings or tail. A distant part of her laughed at her state. How ridiculous, a dragon scared into submission. The wyvern stayed quiet, even as she relaxed with every passing second.

There had been no creature nearby, human or dragon.

'Haila? Haila!'

'I think the Arist spoke to me.' She cocked her head. 'He...gave me advice?'

'Haila,' and oh no, there was a warning tone to Secor's voice now, 'steer clear. Don't get any ideas.'

'Me? Never. I'll send you updates if there are any more.' She tuned out of the long-distance channel. Then, eyes still on the winged human hatchling, she sought out the Arist's mind. Should she achieve this, she planned to ask, 'I've been told of the untrustworthiness and inherent evil of humans many times, but no dragon seems to want to explain why they are so. Will you?'

In the meantime, she watched the three different humans of interest. Her heart ached at the thought of the next steps her clan may take.

The winged human was only a hatchling.

---

CHERYL LUSBY

The ride so far had proven to be surprisingly peaceful. Even when Jack finally spoke up, his first few sentences were reasonable. Relatable, even. Then he decided to unload more weird alien meat, except this time what he was chattering on about wasn't quite so alien.

'And there was a dragon being referred to as… uh, Artist? Arist? Something like that. If that means anything to you as well?'

Cheryl sucked in a breath. Blew it out. Then jammed her elbow back into his direction.

'Yes, that does mean something to me,' she said airily, as if nothing had happened between question and answer. 'It means you're somehow connected to one of the most powerful dragon breeds in Nihilo. One that can kill all three of us quite easily. Thanks for that.'

The night just kept getting better, didn't it?

She mulled over his words, trying to make sense of them with a bleary mind. As such, the girl they passed by was disregarded completely. Shortly after, the forest on their right thinned out into untamed fields that stretched into the distance, while the one on their left thickened. The trees there became taller, their trunks thicker, and the gaps between them wider. A monstrous forest to hide monstrous creatures indeed.

There was no end to Jack's strange nature. Perhaps Cheryl would have dismissed his vision as a part of his alien abilities, if it weren't for the fact that elements of his story sounded familiar indeed. A dragon attack in Sonarlis... His daughter... The Arist. One Arist.

The inklings of a suspicion stirred.

'There was a dragon attack in Sonarlis,' she said, after a while. 'A long time ago. Before I was around, anyway. You never mentioned how old your daughter is - or did you? Whatever, I don't care - but I remember that there was a kid caught up in all that ruckus.' She shook her head. 'Don't really know what happened to her but lotsa folks say that she came back as the most feared witch around. Buncha dragon meat, if you ask me. Nobody survives an Arist. But that doesn't matter.' She pulled on the reigns and Guinea trotted to a stop with an agreeable gurgle. Without further chat, she slid off the saddle, then pinned Jack with a tired look.

'The Old Hag's connected to that witch. So I'd say we're all in the dragon-damned fire. Again, thanks for that.'

So that was who the cloaked figure in her house had come from. Jack had mentioned that Piper's life, specifically, was in danger too, hadn't he? Danger, danger. There was always danger. Finding money, danger. Surviving, danger. Mourning, danger. It felt like someone was constantly breathing down her neck, waiting for the moment she let her guard down to snap it.

...She really needed to sleep. Luckily, they'd arrived at their destination. That was to say, a stopover on the way to their destination. A little ways away from them stood a rundown wooden shack, with flimsy, mouldy boar skin covering the opening that served as its front door. The grass around it was no less untamed than the rest of the wild fields, wiggling irrationally as the tips of each grass blade gravitated to the bugs in the soil. She'd passed the structure in all her visits back home and it only seemed to look worse every time she saw it.

'We'll camp in there for the night,' she said. 'It's been abandoned for a long time so don't expect anything too comfy. But this close to a dragon grove, some shelter is better than none at all.'

The dragon grove mentioned was the forest on the left side of the path which had been steadily thickening and growing taller in the last ten minutes of their ride. At this point, the trees stretched up to a good 50 metres. A few steps beyond the tree line, foliage glinted in the moons' light, but the yawning gaps between trees remained pitch black. Cheryl spared it no glance; looking into dragon groves at night just wasn't a healthy practice.

Once again, Cheryl was thankful for Beckon Season - a cloudless night almost guaranteed no rain. The many holes in the shack's roof wouldn't have been kind in wet weather. It wasn't terribly big, but it was enough to fit the two of them with plenty of space apart. Having always travelled to Sonarlis in daylight, Cheryl had never seen a use for it but it would come in handy now. Good thing nobody lived here.

'Why, 'ello, young 'un!' said an old man as he stepped out of the shack. He had a cheery, tooth-gapped grin, with only a ragged union suit on. His scalp was bare, save for the few strands of long, grey hair plastered against it. 'Come to spend the night here?'

Cheryl took a very deep breath.

'I thought nobody lived here,' she said, and very politely did not say, 'Why the horse dung would you pick such a shitty place to live in?'

'Why, it's such a lovely place t'stay in, young 'un! Plenty'a space, plenty'a food-'

'Plenty near a dragon grove.'

'Exactly!'

A nutcase, then. She was attracting every single one of them tonight, it seemed.

'Ah, but where are my manners? Y'must'a travelled a long way, young 'un. That mountain village's a pain in the neck, ain't it? Me wife's asleep, but I'm sure she won't mind a bit!' The old man beckoned, taking small steps back to the shack as he did. 'We got the space!'

'You most definitely do not,' she muttered, but the old man was already disappearing back into the shack. A beat later, he poked his head out again.

'Me name's Rennard! Two Ns,' he stressed, then disappeared once more.

Well. At the very least Rennard didn't seem averse to Piper, who was practically a beacon of white wrapped around her neck. Cheryl glanced at Jack.

'You don't like sharing, you can sleep outside,' she said, matter-of-fact. She didn't mind if he chose to do just that. Actually, she hoped he would. Maybe something big and hungry would eat him up and he wouldn't be her problem anymore.