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"Pyrrhic" A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy RP

I like how there's a little preempt just in case people don't actually want to read anything, lol.

_{I'm gonna read everything}

"Pyrrhic" A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy RP

_Hype

"Pyrrhic" A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy RP

If you ever need a co-GM, just remember...

I work at 25$CA an hour.

"Pyrrhic" A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy RP

@Tawny Swan I feel like half the cast is going to be privy to a frosty reception less than a page in.

"Pyrrhic" A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy RP

Any orders that don't bode well with Moro will be met with a swift and delegated series of Punches.

"Pyrrhic" A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy RP

Not it

A Hero Tale {Complete}

Yzeira's eyes flickered as he approached. That that gigantic paperweight out of the picture, his unparalleled focus had a much easier time dealing with Oz's counterattack. The sphere that was struck exploded in a small display of erratic pulsing energy, fading away in only a moment while Yzeira dashed past it and scattered the remains like smoke. The oncoming shards of veil didn't reach his barrier, instead burning away in mid-air despite their speed and focused energy. Though, while this happened, one of the two remaining orbs that circled Yzeira faded away as if to be consumed. The chaotic man left a trail of reddened footprints in his wake as he approached Oz, but instead of directly clashing with him, he swept his left hand side-ways and launched a slicing wave of red energy towards the center of his torso, expending the power in his left hand, and dashing around Oswald in the same motion to flank his left side. Yzeira skid across the ground for a split second before rising back to his feet, looking away from Oz as he began to circle him. His eyes instead moved up, towards the sky. He grunted to himself.

"I shouldn't have wasted so much time here," The man said calmly, barely audible through the hectic scene. His eyes moved towards the tower.

A Hero Tale {Complete}

The two orbs that headed for Atlas reacted differently to being concealed. The lighter orb moved fast, and struck the edge of its bubble, disappearing and sending lightning-like tendrils through the rim of the bubble, destroying it in its entirety. The slower, darker sphere concealed in the opposite bubble, stopped, and began to pull the surrounding veil towards it like a miniature black hole, almost in an identical fashion to Oz's own technique. The only difference, is that it was also throwing bolts of energy towards the shrinking bubble, slowly peeling away at its shell.

Yzeira had 5 orbs surrounding him now. While all of this was going on, he released a sixth, which joined the rest in revolving around their creator. He looked toward the incoming wheel cautiously, but instead of taking the brunt of the attack, Yzeira began to run width-wise, around the saw blade, and towards Oz's location. His speed wasn't all too formidable, but with the ground flattening and morphing around him, it was as if he was controlling the earth. That wasn't the case. It was once again a series of underground cuts and implosions which he used to manipulate the battlefield on a whim. He now had a straight path for Oz, and sent two of here spheres forwards. They began to spiral, leaving streaks of red energy behind them that formed into a double helix as they picked up speed in both their forward momentum, and rotation. The red gravity well in Atlas' bubble began to crack its edges, and the two lasers that had converged earlier, far behind Atlas and a long ways away from Oz's new position, finally fired another beam of devastating energy towards Atlas, expending themselves with the attack.

Now Yzeira was closing the distance between himself and Oz. Had he given up on a long range battle plan? Or was he better in close combat than he let on? Perhaps it was a bluff? Or maybe he was just trying to pull Oz's attention away from the converging beams that grazed him earlier? The man's coat fluttered behind him, and two more of his spheres moved towards his hands, enveloping them in darkened red energy that hid his skin, and sharpened to two points like knives.

"Pyrrhic" A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy RP

Done and done.

"Pyrrhic" A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy RP

Moro Kahale

"Aye, there's a bit mo' than fire behind these punches, brother!"

| NAME: |
Moro "Moe" Kahale

|AGE: |
Age Appearance: 27
Actual Age: 32

| MAGIC ABILITIES/AUGMENTOR: |
~School of Magic~
>Augmentation<
Nearly every physical aspect of the body can be augmented through the proper means, including but not limited to muscle fibres, brain chemistry, the five senses, and natural healing capabilities. Although more costly and dangerous than most forms of magic, augmentation can grant a human abilities that would put them on par with some of the most deadly animals of the wild.

~Augmentor~
>Feather Earring<
Loosely dangling from his left ear is a small white and brown feather, attached by a worn chain. Moro created this with his parents when he was a boy and ultimate re-purposed it to channel his magical energy.

~Skills~

Moro uses his magic through a series of buffs that amplify the abilities of him, or anyone he can put his hands on.

>Overclock<
Moro's primary method of augmentation wherein he amplifies his physical strength by a significant degree. A visible change in muscle mass presents itself while he continues to channel his newfound strength. There are risks that follow if Moro tries to overclock his body for too long, or by too wide a margin, including muscle tears, crippling fatigue, paralysis, and death. This ability is only limited by the consequences after the fact. The threshold for free use without negative effects increases with repeated use, but will reset if Moro does not religiously train both his magic and body. Using this ability on other people is even more dangerous if Moro doesn't already have a feel for their limitations.

>Skin Graft<
Moro can heal wounds by expending large amounts of stamina. In the same fashion, he can increase the density of his skin to the point where it can deflect knives for short periods of time. Liberal use of skin graft can force Moro into a state of unconsciousness very quickly.

>Sensory Overload<
Moro is capable of increasing the limits of his senses vastly while concentrating. This allows him to mimic the abilities of animals, to put it simply. He cannot amplify his senses while using any of his other abilities, making his sensory capabilities better suited for light-combat or reconnaissance.

>Ki Expulsion<
This is possibly his most taxing ability if not moderated. Moro is capable of expelling raw Mana from his body to inflict damage that surpasses physical limitations. These short-range bursts of magical energy are invisible to the naked eye and possess a great deal of power that surpass Moro's limitations as a martial artist.

| PERSONALITY: |
A lot might classify Moro as obnoxious, which isn't too far from the truth. As an outspoken meat-head who's biggest values in life are his muscles, Moro makes a name for himself by punching his way out of trouble. He isn't all that bright or considerate even if he tries his best to come across as a likeable fellow. Rather than listen to the commentary of his peers, he'd rather interject with his own take on things, while politely acknowledging the efforts of others as a nice sentiment. Despite the fact that a lot of people don't acknowledge him as anything more than a walking punch factory, Moro keeps a positive disposition in the face of people purposely mispronouncing his name as Moron.

| SAMPLE POST: |

Oh ye?

The river bank's wall was cracking under the repeated pressure of his fists. One two, one two, one two three. Another line shot downwards like a lightning bolt. It reached the ground and split into two, chipping a triangular shard of rock out and on to the floor. Moro panted heavily and wiped his brow free of sweat. "Woo!" he hooted, glancing at the path that lead down to the riverside. His voice was ripe with pride, and echoed upwards into the highest reaches of Helia Tower. "Stone's breakin' and who's to blame? Moro's the name, fists are his..." Moro paused and leaned over, panting heavily with both hands clasping his kneecaps. He gasped the last word, 'game', while pushing himself back up with a loud series of pats against his thighs. "Aye, aye," the words, barely distinguishable from the roaring water that encompassed his training area, marked a time of rest. Moro thrust his head into the nearby waterfall and washed out his thick, muddy hair. Today was going to be a good day. That's what he told himself every day, but today was different. Today he had been expecting somebody to come down to his secluded little spot and train with him. He pulled his head free of the downwards current and shook himself dry like an excited dog.

He'd been there for two hours already. She was supposed to have met him at dawn. Moro wiped his face and focused intently on the path leading up the cliff's edge, towards Helia. His smile twitched and he jerked his head away. He let out a small chuckle and shook his head, placing his thumbs and index fingers on the sides of his shorts. "Aye.." Moro looked down at the small chip of stone that he'd dislodged from the wall, and then down the long corridor of mud, rock and hanging vines. One... Two... Forty sections of cracked rock wall. At this rate, the entire grotto would collapse on top of him. "Aye..." He spun towards the wall again and hardened the skin around his knuckles. One two, one two. His eyes peered to the right for the briefest moment. One two, one two. Again. One two. Nobody was coming.