Remram
AchronumActually managed to get a post up, how about that
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Branna Naves
Western Street || Lothian Empire: Garleton || Evening
The new bandit proved no more a challenge than his fallen compatriots, and Mors swung around to a halt as Branna surveyed the state of the street. With only one target left and a few too many people to engage him, having Mors try to maneuver inn for a hit would be like encouraging him to tussle over scraps. That the last target appeared to be the leader of the inexperienced crew, though, came second to Branna’s impatience. Urging Mors closer, she smiled, watching the unfortunate, axe-wielding soul look about the motley crew of empire folk and sellswords surrounding him. He seemed to recognize his situation, recognize that there was little he could do except accept his fate, and that prompted a low, raspy laugh from her. With the lordling beside her threatening further burns, she waited, savoring the moment as the others circled in. He struggled, he fought, and he flailed, his eyes gleaming against the now-burning city as he engaged the spear-wielding mercenary again, spittle flying from his mouth. The scene was almost too beautiful, too raw in its sincerity, but the mood was quickly broken by the swordsman, who sprang out from behind with the obvious intent to deliver a final blow. “Tsk.” She leaned over to look into Mors’ eye. “Still hungry?” The wyvern shook his wings out, the movement rocking Branna but by no means unseating her. “Hm,” she hummed, the note cracking as she watched the ongoing battle. Then, hefting her spear, she patted the wyvern, grinning. “From above,” she croaked, and Mors’ wingbeats brought them up to diving position. Dead or alive, meat was meat, and the bulky chops of a well-toned fighter were probably the best cuts all day. Hence the dive. |  _________________________ Status: Snagging a choice bite Class: Wyvern Flier Exp: 15 Inventory:
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The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.
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5 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Keaton Plasse
After the fiasco on the first day, Keaton found the rest of the week pretty tame. In many ways, she picked up right where she left off in university, and though classes were much smaller on the ship, all the college-level basics were available either in-person or via the ship’s seemingly all-knowing AI, Cara, who took online classes to a whole new level. If anything, Keaton was learning more on the ship than she had on Earth, and she wasn’t sure what to feel about that. On one hand, it was great to be taught by an AI program that tailored the class for her; on the other, it was a tally for the running count of reasons why she’d been correct in agreeing to come to The Promise, and she wasn’t so certain that was a good thing.
That aside, the fiasco had left a pretty big mental mark, especially considering that someone had vomited on Keaton’s favorite jacket and then proceeded to turn into some huge lizard hybrid and trash the place before someone else turned into a human fireball and crisped him. Though she’d been tempted to toss it out, it remained a fond piece of home, and she’d been able to get the stains out after some wrangling with the washing machine and the detergents available to her. Wearing it, though, was another matter entirely, and currently it was hanging at the far side of her closet, in limbo until she was able to decide its fate.
Jacket aside, there was the matter of the people Keaton had met the previous week. Well, ‘met’ was a strong word, but the past week had been freshman year all over again, with people introducing themselves at the drop of the hat, hoping to form some type of connection with just about everyone they could. She was on friendly terms with a few of her classmates, but just like in college, it was hard meeting people outside of her day-to-day routine, so when she spotted the boy who’d been turned into a giant lizard last week passing by, she paused to turn and stare. He was carrying flowers—visiting someone, a girl, who he was courting? Uncertain. But, given that the other few people Keaton had seen with him last week were girls, perhaps it was one of them.
At this point, the boy turned into the hospital, and the dots connected. There were only so many people sent to the hospital that day, after all, and while the number the boy could be visiting with flowers was around three, only one of them had blown up the cafeteria. Now, she might have been jumping to conclusions when assuming that he was seeing the girl who’d called Keaton ‘Denim,’ but just because she didn’t get confirmation for that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. That the girl was still in the hospital, though, was a little alarming. One week—her injuries had been somewhat serious, then, at least compared to the others in the cafeteria. It made sense, though, considering that she’d literally exploded into flames. Whatever details Keaton hadn't been privy to firsthand were provided to her throughout the past week as the subject of the explosion in the cafeteria was used and reused as a conversation starter, and at this point she figured she had a pretty complete picture of her class' memorable first day.
Despite the fact that she might very well be interrupting some sort of romantic reunion, Keaton elected to follow the boy into the hospital. She’d introduce herself, see if the girl was doing alright, and go from there. Fake it until she made it and all that. Sure the boy had a tendency to transform into a huge lizard man he couldn’t control and the girl appeared to be some sort of living flamethrower, but Keaton was beginning to accept that people with such powers were her version of normal now. The girl, at least, seemed like a good person, and good people were the sort of people Keaton wanted to get to know.
The inside of the hospital was relatively quiet with the bustle limited to the side of the hallway which saw new arrivals. Unfortunately, her delay in following after the boy had caused her to lose sight of him, and after glancing down the empty hallways, she idled in the reception, not sure whether to leave or just head down a random hall.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked from her desk.
“No, um,” Keaton said, glancing down the hallways again as she looked for an excuse. Instead, she was surprised to see the boy emerging from a nearby door with a girl in a hospital dressing gown—the fire girl. Their wary glances down the hall and general cautiousness, however, said that they were up to something. Sneaking out. Keaton could help there.
“Actually, yes. I’m meeting a friend here, Amy? She was visiting someone else but I’m blanking out on his name,” she said, pursing her lips as she crossed her arms on the counter.
“Well, can you get in touch with your friend? Or do you know what her friend is in for?”
“A fractured arm I think? Or was it a foot?” Keaton frowned, then shook her head. “Some bone. He got checked in recently?”
“I don’t think we had anyone come in with a broken arm or leg anytime soon but let’s see,” the receptionist said, pulling out a clipboard and looking it over. “No, no broken bones as of five hours ago.”
A glance down the hallway showed that it was now empty, and Keaton fished out her phone.
“Hold on, let me text Amy,” she said, pretending to check it. “Oh, wait... she left already. Damn it.” Keaton flashed the receptionist an apologetic smile. “Sorry about all that, but thanks anyway!”
Just as she turned to leave, though, a crashing sound from down the hall drew her attention, and she watched in surprise as the red-helmeted figure from her first day skated past, waving at her. After taking another few moments to stare at the door he'd left through, Keaton glanced back and, seeing the receptionist on the phone, fled for the exit.
Outside, Keaton found a street that was no longer calm. Freaky-D was what the man had been called, or so she'd been told. Though she'd personally never heard of the name, it seemed he and his exploits were somewhat of a thing online, and Keaton's classmates had readily filled her in on all the pertinent details. His getaways were apparently as much of his brand as his outfit, and she wasn't surprised to find that he was nowhere in sight. This all, she supposed, was another part of her new 'normal.'
@Sho Minazuki I feel like the "last person gets more exp" clause gives people the wrong incentive. Giving everyone who participates the same amount of exp would encourage people to work together to quickly and efficiently take down an opponent rather than trying to position themselves to snag the extra exp.
In
The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.
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5 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Keaton Plasse
Adjusting her grip on her suitcase, Keaton looked around, the action more out of habit than anything. With ship was setting off soon, as announced by intercom, this empty period of time where she was forced to think about her father was. thankfully, coming to an end. Soon, she’d be tens of thousands of miles from him—farther than she could ever be on Earth. ‘The Promise’ had been as much as a choice for her as her choosing to let the black-suited people into her apartment when they arrived, but she wasn’t scared. Wary, perhaps, and too anxious to think about much else at the moment, but not scared. Sure there was plenty to be afraid of on the ship she’d been slotted to live on, but the system had checked them for this long. There was no reason it wouldn’t continue to perform as it had, and though she had doubts as to whether she even belonged with the rest of the parahumans, the line between ‘her’ and ‘them’ was getting thinner by the day. As normal as she felt, there was no denying the interviews she’d had or the ‘procedural tests’ she’d taken, just as there was no denying the sheer number of people in this ship with her.
“Keaton Plasse,” she said when she reached the head of the check-in line.
The attendant with the clipboard gave her a once over, checking her against the screen before nodding and motioning to her left. By her outfit—a different color of the same uniform Keaton and every other student had been instructed to wear—she was a staff member of the Promise program, or at least something of the sort. No powers though, or at least none of note. Otherwise she’d have had a more important job than checking in students.
Lifting her suitcase, Keaton hefted it onto the conveyor belt into the ship underbelly, walking away as it moved down the belt. The luggage had been checked when she entered the building, but down the belt were a few people in uniforms that were more than just standing guard. While Keaton didn’t know what exactly they’d been posted to do, by the looks of it, it seemed they were probably parahumans, which lined up with what The Promise had promised. Parahumans teaching parahumans how to use their powers, or so she’d been told. While she didn’t have any reasons for her trust in the half-promises she’d been told, she was willing to give the ship a shot. Maybe she’d like it there, and maybe she didn’t. Either way, being able to improve her power—or at least begin to figure out where it ended and she began—was a start.
With her luggage was stowed away, Keaton moved on to her seat in the ship, sitting down and buckling in. As she clicked the seatbelt in place, wondering what the point of it was, the seat beside her creaked. A girl sat down, adjusting her red-blonde hair, the gold chains around her neck jangling against the zipper of her black leather jacket. Her hair was probably dyed—or not. Odd color if it wasn’t dyed, Keaton supposed. Judging by the haphazard way she wore her jewelry, Keaton would have guessed that she was the punk rocker type, but Keaton wasn’t getting a yes for that either.
Adjusting her feet, Keaton glanced out the window, then at the girl again, giving her a smile through pursed lips when their eyes met. The girl smiled back, her dark lipstick starkly contrasting her pale features, but Keaton wasn’t paying attention anymore. Was she not naturally pale either? Not blue-eyed like she looked? There was no way those gold chains were real, right?
Keaton exhaled, fidgeting with her hands as she again averted her eyes. Then, glancing around, she stopped on a girl because—it was a boy, right? There was no way that wasn’t a boy. He fit the preppy jock type perfectly, yet she still wasn’t getting an answer. What was going on?
Her eyes skipped over a few members of the crew, and she frowned, her grip around her thumb tightening. Was this what it felt like to be powerless? To be ‘normal?’
“Yoo-hoo, you good?”
Keaton blinked, meeting the eyes of the red-blonde girl again. Then, sighing, she nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just, well, jitters. Never been blasted into space before, you know?”
“Same,” the girl said, her smile almost coy. Although Keaton couldn’t guess the intentions behind the girl’s smile at the moment, it looked friendly enough. The lack of confirmation in Keaton’s gut, though, irked her enough to have her shift her legs again, hooking one ankle behind the other. Was this what life on the ship was going to be like?
Soon enough the countdown started, and Keaton met her seat neighbor’s grin with reluctance written across her face.
“Hopefully this just feels like a strong roller coaster,” Keaton said.
The girl laughed, and the liftoff sounded, the din of the ship making up for the silence in Keaton’s head just before she was wrenched upwards by the force of the ship. Where she’d imagined a roller coaster, it was more like some crazy elevator starting upwards, the feeling of her insides shifting except exponentially stronger. For a moment, Keaton genuinely thought she might die, be sick, or worse, but that passed as cheers faded into existence along with the continued laughs of the girl beside her.
“I wish this was a coaster. I’d do that again!” she shouted over the rumbling of the ship.
“Agree to disagree!” Keaton shouted back. “Ticket prices would be insane!”
“Free ride here! Not my choice though!” the girl shouted, grinning.
Keaton paused, then grinned as well. “You too?”
“Yep, bunch of hosts these uniforms are!”
“Yeah, baggage check lady gave me some real attitude earlier!”
The idle chatter—or, rather, shouting—continued until the ship stopped, and a glance out the window showed that they’d arrived. With a click, Keaton’s seat belt unhooked itself and retracted, leaving her clutching her seat as she tried to feel her toes.
“Upsy-daisy,” the girl beside her said, shooting up from her seat. She stumbled, catching herself on the head of her seat just in time. “Oops. Probably took that too fast there.”
“Yeah,” Keaton said, pushing up on the armrests to rise shakily to her legs. “Woah.”
“Yeesh, least they could’ve done was warn us,” the girl said as they made their way shakily towards the ship’s connecting door. When they reached it, they found that the corridor was filled with struggling students.
“Hold on, I need to get my suitcase,” Keaton said, reminded by the sight of some students inching along with their own rectangular rollers. “Feel free to go on ahead though.”
“This where we part ways then?”
“Yeah. I’m Keaton, by the way,” Keaton said. The girl had been nice, and she seemed like someone Keaton could see herself getting along with despite the entire situation and all.
“Jeira,” the girl said, holding out a hand.
“Nice to meet you, Jeira,” Keaton said, shaking her hand with an amused smile. She hadn’t put the girl down to be a hand shaker. If anything, it was more likely that the girl was—
Keaton snapped her hand back, freezing, and Jeira’s smile inched wider.
“Say, Keaton, let’s be friends. You don’t know anyone else here, right? But I do. I’ll introduce you to them and everything. How about it?”
Keaton stared at her. Her powers—what were they? Mind reading? That was a rare one, apparently, but Keaton wouldn’t be surprised.
“Oh, don’t answer me now. Sit on it. Give me an answer next time we meet,” Jeira said, waving. “See you around, Keaton.”
Keaton fiddled with the sleeve of her jacket as she walked into the cafeteria. She wasn’t hungry—far from it, in fact—but the last time she’d eaten was breakfast and she was due for a meal. Though she’d taken a bit in her room to change and shake off the ride, she was still a bit jumpy, and as soon as she was in the student-filled hall she grabbed a plate and filled it with some essentials before making for an edge seat. After all, the ride had reminded her of something very important: She was dealing with parahumans now, abnormal people, and there was no telling what their powers were.
Sitting down, she picked at her food idly, then looked around. There were plenty of conversations being struck up around the place, and she was stuck here for the foreseeable future, so might as well try and talk to someone else. Second time’s the charm, right?
Branna Naves
Western Street || Lothian Empire: Garleton || Evening
With a cry, the new bandit announced his arrival, heading straight for the lordling who was only moments earlier preoccupied with the bandit leader. While Branna’s smile didn’t leave her lips, her delight had vanished, and she watched with vague interest as her future coin supplier struggled. It seemed she’d been hired to play bodyguard as well, which had never been a particularly nice job for her skill set. Killing was easy when compared to trying to keep someone alive, especially someone who was a target like the lordling, and Branna wondered briefly whether it’d be easier to just sit back and let things play out. While she’d lose a large job, no job was a guarantee, and in her experience it was often easier to stack many small jobs instead of spending forever on a long one. That said, the lordling wasn’t all helpless, and Branna was already bored waiting. The swordsman from earlier drew closer, mouthing something. Though Branna didn't bother trying to catch it, she got the message well enough, with him being a fellow sellsword and all. So, shooting a grin at the guard closest to her, she hefted her spear and patted Mors. “The smaller one,” she croaked. Mors pushed up and swooped towards the new bandit with a growl, and Branna lined her lance up, her eye flicking to the bandit head right before her spear struck home. Hit hard and run was her tactic, after all, not taking hard hits. | _________________________ Status: Bodygaurd Duty, kinda Class: Wyvern Flier Exp: 15 Inventory:
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Pebble “Pebs” Meyers
@Alamantus@Vertigo
It wasn’t until the blinding light hit her that Pebs realized that she should have braced herself. Somehow the lights here always seemed to be too bright, but as soon as the momentary adjustment passed she figured that didn’t matter.
The room ahead looked as innocuous as the first room with its empty space and clean surfaces, and it was because of the lack of substance that Pebs’ eyes were drawn first to the potted plant in the far corner. While it was far from out of place, the room had no other decorations, and that was what made it all the stranger.
At Duncan’s prompt, Pebs nodded, fishing the speaker out of her bag, then the wires out of her pocket for good measure. Handing them over as Duncan opened the drawer, she paused, then fished out the pliers and handed them over as well.
“Funny how these things all connect,” she said, pulling a face as she peeked into the drawer. The remote inside didn’t do much to convince her that the situation was doing better, and she picked it up and looked it over, frowning.
“This for the car?” she asked, giving it a shake. No rattle, but seeing how light it was despite the battery compartment on the back, she figured it was probably missing its battery.
A moment of fidgeting saw her pop the compartment lid off, and a glance later Pebs was fishing out the C-type battery in her bag. When she found it, she popped it into the remote, then slipped the plastic lid back onto the now-filled compartment.
“Right, that’s both batteries used.”
She frowned, glancing back at the plant, then walking over to it.
“This thing’s the only thing alive other than us, but what’s the point of having it at all,” she muttered, bending down to check over the pot.
Branna Naves
Western Street || Lothian Empire: Garleton || Evening
| Stroking Mors’ flank, Branna listened to Alnard speak, her eyes focused on the flecks of red on the ground as the wyvern tore pieces from his meal. As it was her employer who was speaking, she listened, but listening didn’t mean agreeing. Frankly, organizing forces sounded like a waste of time. The bandits were weak, easily dispatchable by any trained weapon-wielder. The imperial forces were focused on evacuating the town, yes, but what of the others? Why not send the mercenaries after the bandits? Hit them fast and hard while the evacuation was still happening. It wasn’t like a few sellswords would be able to help much with evacuations anyway. Still, considering that it was her future coin pouch talking, Branna didn’t voice her opinions, choosing instead to maintain her smile and watch. She maintained this silence as the lordling moved them down the street, patting Mors so the wyvern knew that mealtime was over. When the bandits came into view, her smile broadened, and she swung her spear so that the tip rested just above her shoulder. Rotating her spear in her hand as she listened to the pointless dialogue between the two heads of the groups, she glanced between the group of bandits, then between her new compatriots. There was no point in fighting over food now that Mors had eaten, so she waited patiently until the others had chosen their targets. Then, grasping Mors’ saddle, she pulled herself up just as the wyvern swung up and forwards so that she could engage the last available underling: the unfortunate archer who was, as shown by Mors’ earlier meal, easy pickings. A laugh floated out of her as she speared him through, the sound as broken as ever. | _________________________ Status: Laughing Class: Wyvern Flier Exp: 10 Inventory:
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In
The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.
→
5 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
In
The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.
→
5 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
CS done, lemme know if there are changes to be made.
—Keaton—
—Keaton—
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