@Lugubrious
So what kinds of units are we looking at? I see an archer, but ate there any other particular classes to watch for?
So what kinds of units are we looking at? I see an archer, but ate there any other particular classes to watch for?
- Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 568 (0.14 / day)
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Username history
- ToadRopes 11 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
10 yrs ago
Current
Diggersby tho!
11 yrs ago
I STAND WITH AHMED!
1
like
11 yrs ago
Rest in peace, Satoru Iwata
3
likes
11 yrs ago
Out for most of the day; job training and rehearsal
11 yrs ago
Diggersby, tho?
Bio
Hi I like to draw stuff and write.
Most Recent Posts
Injae Park
@Mr Allen J
"I'm going to level with you here, though. I... never wanted to be a Metahuman. I'm not a superhero, and I don't want to be - I just want a normal life." She looked up at Ratchet with her blue eyes, "Can you keep this a secret - our secret?" Jennifer asked.
Ratchet smirked. "Of course, Jen. I think you've got every right to keep it to yourself especially with Meta Gestapo running around."
Ratchet, upon returning from the doorway, saw the vulture descend from the night and perch eerily next to Jen. W.T.F.? she thought. The bird let out a screech, before flying off, as Jen backed away from the railing.
Jen accompanied Ratchet back into the house.
"Some metahumans do live normal lives, you know," Ratchet said as she contemplated drawing her notepad from her tool belt. "Of course, they might use their powers to go about their business."
As Ratchet unflipped the latch to her pouch using the edge of her wheel-hand, she explained, "For instance, in my dad's auto shop, I sometimes use my power to move, like, engine blocks and dollies and stuff." Ratchet winced a bit. "Oh, sorry, I haven't told you about my ability, haven't I," she muttered. "If that came as a bit of a shock, I apologize... To put it simply, I'm a mover. I move things using a transfer of kinetic energy."
Ratchet absently pulled out her notepad and flipped to a blank page, sitting on the couch. "Uh, but anyway, I do sometimes get the stink-eye back in Pennsylvania from people who, you know, don't like metahumans, but thankfully I don't have to be in close contact with them in the shop," she continued. "That being said, I still think it's possible to live a normal life, even with the metahuman powers thrown in."
Ratchet began doing gesture studies on the drunk folk, before looking up at Jennifer. She then looked around. "I don't see Meifeng," Ratchet said.
@ToadRopes Heeeeeeeeeeey.... I wanted to do something with Meifeng real quick that will be relevant (at least later), can you not have Ratchet immediately spot her?
Gotcha.
Lucina
Lucina rolled her eyes at Marisa's question.
As Aleister answered both their questions and explained his terms-of-agreement, Lucina fiddled with the electronic contract, her eyebrows arching in more and more consternation as she struggled to figure out how to use the !?$#@ thing. "I don't mean to be rude, sir," Lucina said politely, "but I'm not quite sure how to work this contraption. Where I come from, we haven't got anything like it. Do you mind briefly explaining how to operate it so I can read your terms?"
Injae Park
@Mr Allen J
Wow.
Jen was a regenerator.
That certainly explained the woundless bloody hole in her shirt that day.
"Why, you have every right to be afraid, what with what you told me about the metahuman Ku Klux Klan running around this place," Ratchet said. "You know what we need? We need another Civil Rights Movement for metahumans," she declared softly. "I'm no politician, but anybody can see the de facto shackles that people put on metahumans."
Oh, the irony; the people who fear the powered folk are the ones who oppress the powered folk so. Perhaps it was that way for every civil rights battle from the 1950's to the 2010's.
Ratchet sighed. "It'd be nice if something like that could start from the metahuman grassroots. But again, I'm no politician. Still, we can't wait around for a movement to start. This isn't the kind of thing that people should shrug off."
Ratchet heard some pretty violent-sounding noises from inside the house. "Oh, boy. Looks like Kate's getting her fight after all," she muttered. "Jen, I'm starting to feel a bit out-of-place. I haven't touched a drink, and I'm pretty sure you and I are one of the endangered non-sober human beings, displaced from their natural habitat. That being said, I don't like the way that those noises are sounding. Especially since I heard a couple curse words in there," Ratchet added, upon hearing one of the girls call Meifeng a "bitch."
Ratchet whirled around and walked right in just as the fight ended, feeling exactly like she hopped out of the pages of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. Ratchet spun right back around and with a deadpan expression said, "Meifeng got into a fight and wound up with a boob hanging out of her dress."
Ratchet realized that she should've probably confided her power to Jen; then again, that probably wasn't fair since just that day, Meifeng had already broken the news to Jen about her waterbending, and Jen didn't need more shock. She'll tell her later.
"Ah, why don't we go back inside? Whole thing's boiled over," Ratchet suggested, pointing back to the doorway. "As comparatively nice as it is outside, we probably look weird and awkward just standing around like this." She adjusted her driver's cap and strode back into the house. Jen, a regenerator. How about that. Certainly explains why her liver hasn't gone ka-boom, Ratchet thought. Sucks that childhood fantasies like superpowers and whatnot turn out to be total nightmares for people who actually have 'em.
Ratchet sat on an empty couch (avoiding a stain to her right and stretched out her arms and legs, resting her sneakered feet on the Ottoman. Hey, people were standing on tables and dancing in a drunken stupor; what was a couple sneakers on an Ottoman to a bunch of tipsy wealthy folk?
Ratchet casually folded her arms behind her and simply watched her fellow guests. She had brought a little notepad and pencil in her tool belt. She smirked at the thought of doing gesture studies on drunk people. She nonchalantly flipped open a pouch on her tool belt and drew her notepad and pencil, doing quick sketches of the fella with the lampshade on his head.
<Snipped quote by ToadRopes>
No
you disappoint me too
Aw man
Injae Park
"Hey, Ratchet, I, uh, need to speak to you."
Ratchet pulled herself off the railing and turned around to address the shorter girl. "Hey, Jen," Ratchet replied, putting the backs of her elbows on the railing. "Glad to see you're not completely dead from pulling that stunt. What's up?"
Clearly Jennifer was faking her drunken stupor; otherwise she would likely be talking in that same addled state as before.
"I... It's clear that I was faking it back there. All of it."
Called it.
"Hey, hey, it's OK," Ratchet said. "That's not what I'm concerned with. I'd probably do the same if I had drunk a bottle of vodka and three (right?) shots and still come out with my mind in one piece. Just... uh, don't make it a habit. That's how bad things happen." Ratchet got off the railing.
"I kind of like it better out here," Ratchet remarked. "Fewer crazed drunk folks running around. Granted, I came with a wrench and screwdriver so I can clonk some heads if a pecking party starts up, but I'm not sure if I want to witness a scene like that in Brave New World. You know, 'Orgy-porgy, Ford and fun?'" Ratchet exhaled and rolled her eyes, before looking out to the side.
Ratchet turned back towards Jen. "Just asking," she inquired, "but why aren't you drunk?"
Come to think of it, Ratchet had witnessed two other bodily damages to Jen that ended with her coming inexplicably out all right. (Well, maybe she didn't witness the dog biting Jen, but that definitely sounded like a piercing scream of pain.)
Did I hear dongs?
The night before...
Jeanne perked up as she heard someone humming a familiar melody, a lilting 12/8-rhythm jig that she often heard in the forests in which she lived.
Jeanne, intrigued, followed the source of the hums, cupping her hand to her ear every so often.
Jeanne's stealth was a force of habit; back in the forests through which she chased the caravans of the pretentious wealthy, she would fly through treetops silently and undetected. It was a practice of hers that wove into her way of life.
Jeanne eventually found the source of the humming. She came across Habeen, who, sitting cross-legged by candlelight, was carving some kind of small totem while humming the melody. With short, swift motions, Habeen turned the totem in her hand and flicked shavings of wood off the totem.
"Hey," Jeanne said.
Apparently she had totally startled Habeen, who flailed her arms in surprise, letting both the carving knife she was using and the wooden totem fly into the air. With a THWOCK-CLUNK, the knife and totem landed in her lap and on her head, respectively.
"I totally meant to do that," Habeen joked, completely ignoring the fact that she was nearly impaled.
"Oh, yes, I'm absolutely sure that nearly knifing your noggin is TOTALLY what you want to do while whittling your wooden totem," Jeanne replied. "So, what's that song you were humming?" she asked.
"Just something I heard on my travels while staying in a forest village," Habeen replied. The dark-skinned Mage simply picked up her knife and totem once more and continued to whittle. "It was a lovely melody so I decided to pick it up. I think there were words, but I don't remember them."
Jeanne nodded. Habeen restarted the song, humming through the intro. It struck Jeanne: it was an old folk song that she herself knew in her childhood, that stuck with her for her life.
Habeen's humming entered the first verse, and that's where Jeanne opened her mouth and:
"'Neath the ole wooden towers
That do scrape across the sky
Lying underneath the bowers
We the forest-dwellers lie
With the verdant grass a-staining
Leaves a-whirling, swirling; why,
The forest is our home, a humble home, for you and I."
Habeen turned around. "Is that what the words are?" Habeen asked. "That was bothering me for a while. You know that feeling you get when you have a song in your head that you don't completely know the words to?"
"That's when you resort to, well, simply singing the merry melody," Jeanne replied.
"So you know that song?" Habeen asked.
"Of course! Everybody in my home in the woods knew that song. We were a small community, and every week we would gather at night and sing the song. Within the woods, the townsfolk were in tune with the trees and flowers."
Jeanne sat down next to Habeen and wrapped her arms around her own knees. "That song helped solidify the idea within the forest village of living in harmony with nature instead of conquering it," she said. "Like the birds and the flowers, we were a part of the forest habitat. Granted, we had houses and such, but still..."
Jeanne looked up. "Hey, when did you learn this song?"
"Fairly recently, actually; I passed through the village in which I heard this about a month ago."
Jeanne nodded. "You're certainly well-traveled," she remarked.
"Oh, I ought to tell you all about it," Habeen said, her smile growing wider.
Jeanne chuckled. "We can talk later, it's getting pretty late," she said.
"Alright, I'll just go back to cutting up my wood," Habeen replied.
Jeanne and Habeen reached support level C.
Jeanne wasn't stupid. She realized that juxtaposing an infamous thief and a whole lot of blood didn't do a lot of good. (In fact, quite the opposite.) As such, Jeanne made a mental note to refrain from thieving unless necessary (not difficult given her normal fare).
Jeanne heard the moans of pain and winced. "I'm just wondering," she said to no one in particular, "but what kind of vile violence just ravaged this field?"
Jeanne and Habeen--C-support
Jeanne perked up as she heard someone humming a familiar melody, a lilting 12/8-rhythm jig that she often heard in the forests in which she lived.
Jeanne, intrigued, followed the source of the hums, cupping her hand to her ear every so often.
Jeanne's stealth was a force of habit; back in the forests through which she chased the caravans of the pretentious wealthy, she would fly through treetops silently and undetected. It was a practice of hers that wove into her way of life.
Jeanne eventually found the source of the humming. She came across Habeen, who, sitting cross-legged by candlelight, was carving some kind of small totem while humming the melody. With short, swift motions, Habeen turned the totem in her hand and flicked shavings of wood off the totem.
"Hey," Jeanne said.
Apparently she had totally startled Habeen, who flailed her arms in surprise, letting both the carving knife she was using and the wooden totem fly into the air. With a THWOCK-CLUNK, the knife and totem landed in her lap and on her head, respectively.
"I totally meant to do that," Habeen joked, completely ignoring the fact that she was nearly impaled.
"Oh, yes, I'm absolutely sure that nearly knifing your noggin is TOTALLY what you want to do while whittling your wooden totem," Jeanne replied. "So, what's that song you were humming?" she asked.
"Just something I heard on my travels while staying in a forest village," Habeen replied. The dark-skinned Mage simply picked up her knife and totem once more and continued to whittle. "It was a lovely melody so I decided to pick it up. I think there were words, but I don't remember them."
Jeanne nodded. Habeen restarted the song, humming through the intro. It struck Jeanne: it was an old folk song that she herself knew in her childhood, that stuck with her for her life.
Habeen's humming entered the first verse, and that's where Jeanne opened her mouth and:
"'Neath the ole wooden towers
That do scrape across the sky
Lying underneath the bowers
We the forest-dwellers lie
With the verdant grass a-staining
Leaves a-whirling, swirling; why,
The forest is our home, a humble home, for you and I."
Habeen turned around. "Is that what the words are?" Habeen asked. "That was bothering me for a while. You know that feeling you get when you have a song in your head that you don't completely know the words to?"
"That's when you resort to, well, simply singing the merry melody," Jeanne replied.
"So you know that song?" Habeen asked.
"Of course! Everybody in my home in the woods knew that song. We were a small community, and every week we would gather at night and sing the song. Within the woods, the townsfolk were in tune with the trees and flowers."
Jeanne sat down next to Habeen and wrapped her arms around her own knees. "That song helped solidify the idea within the forest village of living in harmony with nature instead of conquering it," she said. "Like the birds and the flowers, we were a part of the forest habitat. Granted, we had houses and such, but still..."
Jeanne looked up. "Hey, when did you learn this song?"
"Fairly recently, actually; I passed through the village in which I heard this about a month ago."
Jeanne nodded. "You're certainly well-traveled," she remarked.
"Oh, I ought to tell you all about it," Habeen said, her smile growing wider.
Jeanne chuckled. "We can talk later, it's getting pretty late," she said.
"Alright, I'll just go back to cutting up my wood," Habeen replied.
Jeanne and Habeen reached support level C.
Jeanne Robina--Bloodstained Field
Jeanne wasn't stupid. She realized that juxtaposing an infamous thief and a whole lot of blood didn't do a lot of good. (In fact, quite the opposite.) As such, Jeanne made a mental note to refrain from thieving unless necessary (not difficult given her normal fare).
Jeanne heard the moans of pain and winced. "I'm just wondering," she said to no one in particular, "but what kind of vile violence just ravaged this field?"
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