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2 yrs ago
3 yrs ago
@RumikoOhara That one's in like five months.
3 yrs ago
I beg to differ.
3 yrs ago
Zygote Equality.


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@TheLazarus Presente and ammounted four.
Not an inaccurate assessment. He'll have a real voice later. But for now, yeah. Except he can say "soy" without having a stroke.
As the door of the Atlesian airbus opened, the cool, conditioned air was quickly displaced, its manufactured feel leaving with it. What was left as the young man in green began to move was a tepid mixed air, falling away to dry heat others crossed the threshold before him. When a rather tall, broad girl in white left, the young man lifted his rather large duffel bag and hard traveling case, and removed himself from his former position- having been leaned against the metallic back wall of the cabin. Before his scarf even began to feel heavy and warm, his hair stood on end, taking a green tint in a fauxhawk like pattern. The soft crackle that accompanied this change, as seamless and unnoticeable as it was, was nothing compared to the sensation he felt, cutting off sensory information, causing him to squint in the bright atmosphere, even moreso than others would against the light- though he was looking away from the sun.
Facing the ominous looking ruin that appeared to be Shade Academy, the young man- seemingly unfazed by the heat, despite being of Atlesian heritage- saw several who looked like first year students, as well as returning, more confident looking Huntsmen and Huntresses in training. One such individual seemed to walk hurriedly into the crowd... only to come back out and lean against the next airbus to make touchdown, one from Vale, it seemed.
This was followed by a young man, almost as tall as the young woman, asking her something. The young blond-and-green didn't hear what he said, but this was a bit ridiculous. He made an arrogant stride forward, one arm partially outstretched, palm flat.
"Hey, this is a touch-and-go operation," he remarked, his voice projected and harsh, "Back off before your meat-heads get knocked off by an engine or something," his arm then turned towards the cavernous shadow at the base of Shade Tower, "Gate's most likely that way, in case you lunkheads couldn't follow through."
And with that, he walked on, obviously ignorant to anything else said to him as he walked past. His path through the crowd kept him away from large clusters of people, as he kept an ever widening gap between himself and others. As he passed, he heard a rather bombastic, if not high pitched guitar being played, which caught his attention, causing a sharp gaze to be cast in that direction.
Part of the beast's mind remembered the orange glow, and he wasn't exactly enthused about it. However, seeing that there was no melee continuing without his provocation, Rodendramon simply bode his time, keeping all attention locked on the Beelzemon in particular. As a result, most of the outside conversation bypassed the Digimon.
At the mention of Jordan's name, the feral Digimon's stance shifted. All aggression ceased, and armored hind legs sat on the ground. Metallic whiskers extended above the Mega's sealed jaw, which were preened by oversized claws. With little warning, the jaw snapped open, and a hollow voice, much like one speaking from within a cave, sounded out.
"Acquisition of allies is priority one in dealing with Class A threat: Synthetic Digimon Moon-Millenniummon," even as the voice speaking was clinical, the body that played host to that voice seemed to mildly convulse, as if containing great churning bile at the mention of their foe, "Due to the detection of secondary Class A threat, subject:self_Rodendramon fired one warning shot in the form of Jade Meteor, in order to procure entry and assess the situation. Considering that subject:Royal-Knight_Parasimon-Mordred, subject:ally_BanchoLeomon, and subject:Class_A_threat:Demon_Lord_of_Gluttony:Beelzemon were not in conflict, it seems that the collection is standing in favor of location:Human_World, and are, thusly, allies."
With that, Rodendramon's jaw clapped shut, sealed once again by a plate of Chromedigizoid. The beast then began to pace about, sniffing the air and probing alleyways with his extended whiskers, attempting to locate their arguably more powerful allies, being Examon and Alphamon, though the latter seemed wholly absent from the incident. The unknown, equally feral Digimon also seemed to be an asset, but the mere thought of the individual seemed to cause a headache. Despite the raw logic with which he spoke, Rodendramon was still feral. Wings dragging upon the ground, and breath huffing through his helmet, his impatience was palpable. And while he seemed, in his unfocused pacing, to be tolerant of Parasimon to a degree, Beelzemon was given a wide birth. It was not possible for this Beelzemon to be the one that had once been an ally, not without significant time elapsing. And due to the fresh destruction and still burning fires in the city, there had certainly not been enough time for the once-partnered Impmon to develop into a Mega Level naturally. Dirk was dead, after all. It was a bitter reality, but Rodendramon knew it as fact, having pieced it together from the memories of his two constituent parts.
To simply wait until happenstance drove them into contact with yet another ally was a waste of time. The strain on reality caused by Moon-Millenniummon's very existence was gnawing at the back of Rodendramon's mind like a chorus of dissonant, pleading voices. He could feel the tremors in the earth as the barely-living calamity above was primed to render the planet by simply being.
I'd say give people a chance. Also this past week's been a but busy for me.
Great! Glad to have you on board!
Still looking for players!
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