Typical Member
- Last Seen: 10 mos ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 2154 (0.60 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- Typical 7 yrs ago
- ████████ 10 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Savo,
Xaltwind,
Timemaster,
mickilennial,
Azure Bubbles,
Joshua Tamashii,
Enarr,
Tlaloc,
TokyoPewPew,
Festive
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Kazuhiko Taketori
Land of Fire: Konohagakure
The chattering of genin filled the classroom, their conversations scattered and varying in volume. Despite the smiles present, though, there was a tangible tension in the room, given form by fidgets and sideways glances at the door. Kazuhiko’s seat in the middle of the room wasn’t doing him any favors in this case, and he felt his wariness grow with every passing minute despite Natsuko’s constant chatter on the other side of Koharu. Between her words were laughs that ended seconds early and responses given moments late, and the unnecessary shifting of her arms and hair only served to further put him on edge. Internally admonishing himself for his nervousness was more counterproductive than not, so instead he played to his strengths. Stress was nothing new to him, and his father’s slow introduction of duty and responsibility into his life allowed him to develop composure despite the circumstances. Underneath the small frown and interlaced fingers, he was a lit fuse of jumbled thoughts and pessimistic worries, but outwardly he was still, attentive and in some ways stiff, but altogether a refined picture of calm.
A knock sounded, and the room fell silent in unison, watching, waiting as the door at the front entrance of the classroom opened to reveal their first exam proctor: Arinaga Fujito, the head of the Konoha Police. Broad-shouldered and dark-browed, Arinaga seemed by no means a friendly man. Though terming him ‘scary’ was a bit of a stretch, there was no doubt that he was intimidating in his green flak jacket and heavy boots, even when compared to the other, sometimes taller members of the police force who followed in behind him. His presence at the head of the room, standing on the speaking platform with no trace of warmth in his eyes, helped set the tone of the room better than any one of the uniformed men and women lining up on the stairs along either side of the room, and precisely at the top of the hour, he cleared his throat.
“Good morning, everyone. My name is Fujito Arinaga, and I’ll be serving as the main proctor for the first stage of your exam,” Arinaga said, his arms crossed behind his back, which seemed rigidly straight but natural at the same time. “For this stage, you will be working in your teams of three to devise a solution to the scenario presented to you. The scenario will be described in detail in the packets passed out to you by the proctors you see lined up against the wall. Communication between your team is allowed. Communication with other teams is not and will result in disqualification. You will have thirty minutes to prepare your presentation. When those thirty minutes are up, you will be escorted, one group at a time, to a separate room where I and two other proctors will hear your presentation and determine whether your team passes.”
Stacks of packets were passed down the rows, and Kazuhiko took his before passing the stack to Koharu. Though the packet was thin, it also felt heavy, and Kazuhiko managed a glance at his teammates—which Natsuko returned with owl-like eyes—before refocusing on Arinaga.
“Remember: Though there are many possible answers, there are also wrong answers. We will not be taking questions.” He paused to look around the room like a wolf appraising the herd. “Welcome to the Chunin Exam. Your time starts now.”
Natsuko Rinha
Late Morning || Land of Fire: Konohagakure
The flurry of shuffling paper filled the room, and Natsuko vaguely the sting of a possible papercut as her eyes glossed over the words on the page. Pair of jonin-level missing-nin in possession of a stolen jutsu scroll. Known information on each missing-nin in the next two pages. At the bottom of the page was the main prompt, which was bolded for emphasis.
The Hokage has chosen your team to retrieve the stolen scroll. Devise and present the best possible strategy to retrieve the scroll.
Letting out a breath she realized she’d been holding, Natsuko took a peek at the next two pages, which were profiles of the two jonin-level missing-nin and a map on tracing the missing-nin’s path, before setting the paper down and looking at her teammates. “So. Jonin-level missing-nin. Is the Hokage crazy or what?”
“Looking at the map, it looks like the missing-nin are going to pass through the Valley of the End. They’re Sunagakure and Kumogakure missing-nin who specialize in wind and lightning techniques, so we might have an advantage if we ambush them where there’s more water or forest,” Kazuhiko said, flipping between pages.
“Huh.” Natsuko mimicked his flipping, looking for something to add to the conversation. “The Sunagakure dude has the weird face paint a lot of puppet people have.”
Kazuhiko paused to stare at her, then flipped through his packet. “It’s true. I don’t think it definitely means he’s a puppeteer, but it’s a strong possibility.”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant,” Natsuko said after a beat. “He’s probably a puppeteer.”
“Right, so tactics… If the Suna missing-nin is a puppeteer, he’ll have to be carrying his puppet somehow, which would make it easier for him to be carrying the scroll as well,” Kazuhiko said, not sparing Natsuko a second glance, thankfully. She’d contributed, and he’d taken it in stride. “Doing this would free up the Kumo nin for attacks, which would probably mean he’s the scout. The puppeteer to protect the scroll, and the scouter to spot and field any attacks.”
He looked between his teammates, frowning. “But, these are just theories. If both of them are confident in their abilities, they could just be traveling without set roles. It’d be bad if we underestimated either of them because we placed them in a role since the are both jonin-level threats.”
He fell quiet, and Natsuko got the sense that he wanted some input, but she couldn’t think of anything to say here. To her, it sounded like a rock-paper-scissors scenario. One of her older sisters had tried to explain the tactics to the game once, but it was all so complicated and circular that to this day, Natsuko still believed firmly that the game was completely based on luck. If it weren’t, how could she possibly beat her sister, much less Kazuhiko and Koharu at the game?
“What do you think, Haru-chan?” she asked, looking to Koharu and flashing a smile when the girl looked back on her. Too bad—the spotlight had already been passed, and technically Natsuko had already contributed.
@Sunflower
Eryn Montero
Lakewatch Town || Day 5: Noon || @PlatinumSkink
With Wilhelm and Quagsire occupied, Eryn was left on her own, Tula’s Pokeball in hand as she looked around the room again. Zeroing in on the passing Claydol, she grinned, trailing after it through the ruins. It was a bit difficult to move over wires and pipes as fast as a floating Pokemon, but she did her best, ducking behind pillars and pipes every time the Claydol paused. Being cautious never hurt, especially given that her current situation involved floating, laser-eyed constructs and a bunch of gut feelings based off nothing.
Her caution paid off when the Claydol turned around in the room ahead, the shifting of its arms alerting Eryn as to its movements. A peek around the corner showed that the Claydol was pointing its arms in her general direction, which was alarming enough to prompt her to hightail it back the way she came. Back down the corridor she ran, stopping only when she spotted Wilhelm and the Quagsire.
“Went the wrong way there,” she said, flashing them an awkward smile when they looked up. Then, looking around again, she figured she’d keep going straight, given that the other intersection turned not far ahead.
Whatever it was that had brought her here was still present in a vague sensation that urged her on. However, there was a new feeling—one that wasn’t so friendly. The second wanted her out, away from whatever lay ahead, but this wasn’t the first time Eryn had felt ominous feelings, and she figured it wouldn’t be the last.
“Let’s see what you’re hiding down here,” she said, grinning as she jogged down the corridor directly across from the one she’d exited.
Back on land, Eryn’s Pokemon were occupying themselves best they could. Dei and Eri had again broken off to start chatting with each other, Dei nodding and listening intensely as Eri spoke, his Nuzleaf form allowing him to experiment with some basic hand language. Beside them was Peri, who’d chosen to face the other way to blatantly express her discontent with the entire situation. Their trainer had gone off without them, and as much as she liked the fact that she wasn’t stuck back into a Pokeball, it irritated her to think that the human hadn’t thought it necessary to bring her along. Since when was a Magikarp more useful than an Onix? Plus, there was the fact that she was now being regarded by a very nosy, persistent, and, dare she think it, annoying Mawile that was her other teammate. Kylie was the Mawile’s name, and she didn’t take hints as easily as Dei and Eri did. The lackadaisical smile on her face never left, even when Peri turned to fix the much smaller Pokemon with a glare, and Peri didn’t like it one bit.
Just when Peri had just about made up her mind on whether or not to ‘accidently’ smack the Mawile with her tail, she heard footsteps in the distance, and she uncoiled, rising to her full height as a human in a swimsuit walked over. Though Peri didn’t recognize the human, Dei and Eri did, and they filled her and Kylie in on the details. It was a bit unsettling to think that so many people had witnessed her hatching without her even knowing, but she supposed it didn’t matter much in the long run. What interested her more was the trainer’s apparent strength, which both Eri and Dei confirmed in unison.
The human pointed at her at one point, prompting a grinding sniff on her part. It was hard to see the girl as strong when she had no Pokemon around her, but since even Dei had confirmed it, she figured it had to be true. Curiously, it seemed that Kylie was no longer interested in bothering her now that the girl had arrived. She’d placed Kylie as a bit shallow-minded, but Kylie’s gaze at the moment was anything but—until the Mawile caught her looking and lit up with that irritating smile again, skipping to her side to continue asking whether Peri could give her a ride or something of the sort.
The arrival of two more trainers prompted another explanation from Dei, which rubbed Peri the wrong way. She got that Dei was Eryn’s starter and was technically the most ‘senior’ member of the team and all, but the day she acknowledged the Charmander’s superiority would be the day she acknowledged that he was stronger than her, and frankly that’d never happen. Instead, she focused on the pack of Pokemon that’d arrived, all of whom were, as she noted with pleasure, much smaller and weaker-looking than herself. The only exception was the one leafy-covered Pokemon, but even that one was smaller than her, so Peri didn’t pay it much mind. Her attention was snapped up, rather, by the tentacled Pokemon the first trainer called out, which, unlike the others, did look strong despite being smaller than her. Soon enough, though, the horde of little Pokemon were returned and the trainers dove into the water, presumably to where Eryn had gone, and Kylie was back to bothering her again. So, settling down at the water’s edge, she coiled up, peering into the murk with a frown.
In
The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Keaton Plasse
“Forty-seven calls?”
“Forty-seven missed calls today, yes.”
“And he knows everything. Because it was live-streamed.”
“That’s right.”
Keaton stared down at the blanket, her index finger dabbing at the raw flesh on her thumb, each tap managing a prick of pain that was more small than it was dull. “Okay.” A deep, painful breath in, then out as she sunk back into the pillows propped up behind her. “Okay. Call him.”
“—eaton? Keaton? Keaton—fuck—Keats—”
“Dad. Dad, I-I’m here.” A stab of pain informed her of her blood beading at her thumb, and she wiped it on the side of her hospital gown, clenching her hand and placing it on her lap.
“Oh, thank god.” Her dad’s voice grew faint—pulled the mic away from his mouth to continue repeating that line—before returning in full. “Keats, god, thank god you’re okay.” A quick exhale passed over the phone, and Keaton broke a small smile.
“Yeah Dad, I’m okay now. I’m checking out of the hospital tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? But—you were shot, so—how—”
“No, I got grazed, not shot. The bullet grazed me”—and fractured a rib, which then moved out of place and punctured her spleen, the organ she ended up shredding by moving around, which would’ve compromised her immune system for the rest of her life if not for The Promise’s medical team, who went in and swapped her injuries out for a single large bruise that made it painful but necessary to take deep breaths—“but the doctors took care of it. I’m fine, promise. I just have a bruise left.”
“A bruise? How? Do they have… para doctors up there?” He was confused, but he was working it out, a hand on his forehead as he paced around their living room. Keaton could see each microexpression cross her dad’s face, her power confirming the scene for her, outlining his thoughts and worries. At what point was it considered a violation of privacy, her ‘guessing’? At what point did it cross the line, if she could near-guarantee herself getting away with lies?
“Yeah, Dad. They have para doctors up here. It helps with efficiency.”
There was a moment of silence as her dad thought over how to raise the next topic. He didn’t want to seem like an overbearing parent, and he wanted to believe—did believe—Keaton wouldn’t lie to him since honesty, especially between family, was one of the values he’d done his best to pass onto Keaton, but Keaton had a tendency to avoid topics, and he’d always figured it better not to pry, but this time…
“Keats, what exactly do they, uh, teach you kids up there?” her dad asked. Were they teaching paras to use guns? To use their powers to kill people? Those were the questions he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t, because he couldn’t see Keaton going along with that. Without telling him a thing.
Keaton paused. These weren’t his ideas. He’d read them somewhere—heard about them from someone. People were panicking after the liveleak, after seeing paras—kids—killing with such efficiency, and her dad hadn’t believed them, didn’t want to believe them, but… there’d been room for doubt.
“Dad, they don’t teach us to hurt people. The staff helps us develop our powers safely, to help us learn to control our powers, or help us learn to use our powers more efficiently, like in my case.” She sighed. “The machine gun, Dad, that was the first time I’ve touched one.” Which was true. She didn’t need to mention the handgun from the one firing range she’d gone to with some college friends. She didn’t need to mention a lot of things. “I used my power—figured out how to use it on the fly.”
There was a brief silence Keaton let sit. Because. Because she didn’t need to explain herself, she figured, because the ‘why’ was obvious. And her dad sensed that. Running his own business for decades in central Los Angeles did that. Her dad prided himself on his people skills, his ability to figure out what clients wanted before they could even put it into words, and for most of her life, Keaton had thought herself just a student to the master.
“Keaton, listen to me. You were a hero. You saved people, and you prevented more people from getting killed. Anyone who thinks they could’ve done better, well, I’d like to see them try. You were a hero. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
His certainty made Keaton’s breath hitch, and she blinked rapidly, tears welling in her eyes, which flicked around the room before settling on her lap.
“Keats?”
“Y-yeah, Dad. I’m here, and… Thank you. That means a lot to me. Really,” she said, smiling as she wiped at her eyes. Thank god this was just a call. “I, um, I need to go now, but I, um, I’ll call you later.”
“Later. I’ll be waiting then,” her dad said, a smile on his face. He knew—a realization that made Keaton chuckle, prompting a chuckle from him as well. “Take care of yourself, kiddo, and keep up the good work.”
“You too, Dad. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The call ended with a click, and Keaton sank back into her pillows, staring up at the ceiling.
“Hey, Cara, can you check me out?”
“Miss Plasse—”
“I’ll drink lots of water and keep breathing like a normal person, okay? I’ve been doing fine the last two days, even without painkillers. I don’t see why I need to stay here any longer.”
“Okay,” Cara said after a pause. “You’re free to go, Keaton, but I’m holding you to the drinking water and breathing normally.”
“Thanks, Caroline.”
School was out and her medical leave was still another few days, leaving Keaton with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company. Though it was tempting to end her medical leave and get right back into it, she held back. She was perfectly in the right for taking another few days off, and plus… she really did need to sort out her thoughts. Putting it off again would have been easy, but she’d already taken the easy way out. Multiple times. She figured she’d try the other way this time, which was why she was now sitting on her bed with her notes spread on the sheets around her. Lynn had been gone by the time Keaton checked out of the hospital, which was equal parts unsurprising and concerning. Worrying about Lynn, however, was about as useful as hoping she’d get better on her own, so Keaton chose to focus on prepping for their next meeting. How did what she’d learned so far tie into what she’d known before, and was the next step to continue stockpiling evidence or to finally take some action?
The Spire—that was central to all of what she’d learned in the past month, and it should have dominated her thoughts. Instead, she kept getting distracted. All along, she’d had one goal: getting off the ship. The ‘how’ was what she was searching for, and it was easy when she was innocent and the situation looked impossible. Now, though, she wasn’t innocent, and the situation didn’t look so much ‘impossible’ as it did ‘improbable’. The Promise was collapsing in on itself, as was its system. Paras killing in self-defense hadn’t gone over well, and now The Promise was teaching paras self-defense. In a more reasonable world, perhaps, this would all be a sensible reaction to the tragedy earlier that week. Unfortunately, Keaton lived in a world where people would sooner see her gunned down, and she was almost glad that The Promise’s firewall blocked out most social media sites. Who was to say what people were saying about her and her friends? Had she been branded as a terrorist behind closed doors, as a killer who deserved death? Her dad understood her, but that was her dad. What of his neighbors and clients? What of Keaton’s high school classmates and college friends? After this, was there still a life waiting for her back on Earth?
She’d killed in self-defense, she might argue, but it hadn’t been so black and white. She’d shot to kill, and she’d shot a man who was down. He’d been reaching for his gun, but no one could guarantee he’d have picked it up successfully. Perhaps he would have fainted first, or perhaps the blood-slicked gun would’ve slipped out of his hands. Her power couldn’t confirm for her now, and even if it could, paras didn’t do well in court. Plus, there was the possibility of her father getting targeted. He was innocent, but terrorists didn’t care about that. All it’d take is one rogue gunman, one armed fanatic.
What dominated her consciousness more than her father’s death though, was that moment. The moment when she was mid-hyperventilation, exhausted and bleeding out internally, when Archie had fixed his sights in her direction, his mind and jaws set to kill. The moment when she’d realized aiming the gun in her hands wouldn’t change anything, when it seemed neither Natalie nor Eli could do anything to stop him when she just… accepted it. She was going to die, and that was alright. That’d be the end of her hopeless quest to get off the ship, the end of the fruitless search for scraps to a larger plot that might not even exist. She’d no longer need to worry about Arianna and the Faceless coming after her, no longer need to plan around Cara and the surveillance system, no longer need to pretend that she was in control or that she mattered in the greater scheme of things.
Then, Archie stopped wanting to kill her, and Eli called her name. Then, the police arrived and Keaton was whisked away to the hospital. Then, she woke up patched up and in a drug-induced stupor with a doctor asking her questions she refused to answer until he filled her in on what had happened, and… now.
Her phone buzzed with a text, and she snatched it up. Flour—the park. But was this it? The big reveal, the moment they filled everyone else in for the last hurrah? There was no guarantee the Spire was where the kids were, was what they thought it was, and there was no guarantee the Staff and Arianna were who they all thought they were either. But, after the loading bay, Keaton could see the sense in clueing everyone in. Everyone’s life was at risk, and the more the merrier if that meant more people got out in the end. If Lynn felt that it was time, then so be it.
Picking up her notes took all of one minute, and she took another burning them in the sink, her phone in her hands. However things might go, she wasn’t about to leave a paper trail. Cara might be on their side, judging by the fact that security wasn’t busting down her door yet, but Keaton wasn’t about to make anyone’s life easier.
Coming up with the text took a few seconds, given that typing the exact location out seemed unwise. A moment or two later, Keaton came up with a satisfactory plan, and the text was sent.
Picnic time. See you near the woods.
“Caroline, when they open the message, can you tell them that it’s at the park down the street from Cianwood’s?” Keaton asked, walking over to her closet.
“I’ll pass it along, Miss Plasse.”
“And Caroline, you have enough recordings of my voice to be able to fake it, right?” Keaton asked, fishing a worn denim jacket out from the back of her closet. “If I die, can you fake me for my dad? Pretend I’m planning on staying on board and becoming the new architecture professor or something?”
“… Are you sure about that, Keaton?”
“Yep. Thanks, Caroline, and hopefully I’ll talk to you later.
Branna Naves
Lothian Empire: Alymere Fort || Midday
The moment it took for Mors to get situated inside the fort was the moment the bandits needed to launch an attack. Two of them advanced on the rider and wyvern duo, the larger one bringing up the front with a thrust of his spear, which sunk into Mors’ side, prompting a snarl from the wyvern as he whipped around to face his attacker. In one swift, coordinated motion, Mors and Branna struck, Mors grabbing the spear shaft with his jaws and pulling the bladed tip out and away from the bandit and Branna aiming a thrust towards the man’s neck area from her elevated position. While armor was a good defense, it also tended to make people feel powerful—invincible—and therein lay the risk: Charging in without the raw power to take down the opponent meant the opponent would be able to strike back, and strike back Branna did. From chainmail to plated armor, every sort of metal defense had built-in weaknesses to allow for movement. Whether or not she actually pierced the neck was irrelevant as long as she struck for the neck, where either a gap or chainmail would likely be. As she struck, the sound of a few arrows glancing off the bandit’s armor reached her ears, and her grin curled a bit. Hopefully some of the others would take the cue and pick off the weaker bandits around the room, who were more pests than obstacles in this match. Taking on the biggest threat in the room was nothing new or wholly unwanted. |  _________________________ Status: Injured Class: Wyvern Flier Exp: 40/110 Inventory:
|
Eryn Montero
Lakewatch Town || Day 5: Noon || @PlatinumSkink
“Ah, good one,” Eryn said, laughing at Wilhelm’s dad joke moment as they started on their exploration. The watery ruins yielded a few shiny pieces, which were easy to spot given the murky darkness that pervaded the corners of her vision. Tula did a fair bit in helping out, and eventually Eryn was encouraged to loosen her grip so the Magikarp could get to swimming beside the bubble.
Carrying the things she’d found proved rather challenging without her backpack since she looked more like a thief than an explorer with the goodies clutched in hand, and it was while Eryn was fumbling that she spotted the white-backed blue amphibian—a Froakie. The sight brought a smile to her face, and she waved, then held up Tula so the Magikarp could do the same, not that she did. “Heya little guy, don’t mind us. We’re just taking a look around,” Eryn said, settling Tula in her arms again. Then, with another, smaller wave, she swam away to return to where Wilhelm and the Quagsire were amongst the ruins.
Braith’s words came back to mind: “There’s Descent Tower, but it’s really only good for one visit then you’ve basically seen it all. There isn’t much down there, unless you like that sort of thing, I suppose.” If this was what he was talking about, Eryn needed to ring him and have a talk about what ‘nothing much’ meant. For now, she could only hope that she wouldn’t become as old and jaded as he had.
At Wilhelm’s joke about remembering where they’d parked, Eryn grinned. “That’s Quagsire’s job,” she said, only half-joking. Or, at least, she hoped she was half-joking, but from the looks of Quagsire and his complacent swimming, she was… encouraged to make note of the group’s underwater route.
Directing the group around at random was an odd experience in that it felt weird. On one part, Eryn had no idea where they were going; on another, she felt like they were going the right way—that she was sure they were. If she dwelled on it, she might have found her newfound sureness unsettling, but she didn’t. Instead, she let her smile and out-of-nowhere gut instinct lead the way, and eventually the group surfaced inside a building to a whole new set of ruins. Instead of stone buildings and sunken monuments like before, the interior of this building looked like it was covered in wires and circuits. Sure the thick layer of moss made it hard to tell whether the tubes that looked like wires weren’t actually pipes, but after spotting a few awkward bends that would have made for rather inefficient plumbing, Eryn figured they had to be pipes.
“Woah,” she said, eyes wide as she flinched away from the large floating object that came into view. Lunatone was her first thought, but it was instead a Claydol, drifting along with unblinking pink eyes that drew endless comparisons to the red ones from the day before.
“Right, Claydol, nothing weird. Nothing weird at all,” Eryn said, looking around again. Some small blue shapes floating about in the distance prompted her to raise her Pokedex, and her eyebrows shot up at the entry. Elgyem—weren’t those the Pokemon that were rumored to be from outer space? What were they doing in some submerged ruin below Lakewatch?
“Well, you’re the one who told me about this place,” Eryn said to Wilhelm, a small frown on lips. What was this place indeed. If Eryn knew that, she’d be a happy camper, but instead she was stuck not knowing and… having some weird gut feelings again.
“I, um, I think… this is a challenge?” Her brows furrowed. “No, a trial. One I should do alone, without help.”
She finished her sentence with a pensive frown, and a second passed before her brows shot up, her eyes wide. “Hold up, what? How did I… What?”
Looking around frantically, half expecting answers to appear as easily as the Claydol did, she was rewarded with the damp silence of the moss and wiring. The whole situation was beyond weird, and Eryn was beginning to feel a tad bit unsettled, but she squashed that feeling by giving Tula a bounce.
“Well, lucky me, I left the crew on land. And I don’t think you count as help? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Tutu, you’re plenty of mental help, but physically…” she trailed off, sighing. “Okay, fine, maybe you are help,” she said, pulling out a Pokeball. “Well, I didn’t back down from yesterday’s challenge, and I’m not about to start today. So I’ll see you in a bit, alright?”
With a final rub, she returned her Magikarp, turning to Wilhelm. “I’ve a feeling that you count as help too, and whatever it is that’s giving me these ‘feelings,’ well, led us to this place, so I’m going to keep going along with it.” She gave him an amused salute. “Meet you back here in a bit!” she said, then made a beeline for… whatever path felt right. Because, frankly, she knew very little but felt like doing very much at the moment, and the entire situation had piqued her interest.
Ferris Talese
@Pezz570@HokumPocus@Jerkchicken@Fetzen@13org
The calm dissolved as soon as a cultist launched an attack at a guard, and Ferris glanced back at Karina and DB, who were likely fueled by adrenaline at this point. Though it seemed only Karina had been hit by a deterrent, both of them had been in the tower longer, and the original plan had been to extract all of them, not just Tyfurkh.
Returning Karina’s nod, Ferris followed her down the stairs, drawing a sword as he did. The room was a mess of small battles, and Ferris noted one of the cultists throwing down a cloud of pollen. Getting anywhere near the area would very quickly negate his magic since wheezing pollen had a penchant for sticking to whatever surface was offered to it, and holding his breath would only stall until the next breath he needed to draw. Thankfully, the affected area was a fair distance from where Tyfurkh and the Sightless were, so Ferris figured that, with some luck, he wouldn’t have to worry about the pollen.
From the looks of it, with Tyfurkh on the floor and the Sightless looming above him, arms elongated into long, sharp vines of flesh, Tyfurkh was in imminent danger of being speared. The situation, then, elevated him from priority into immediate priority, and there was no time to waste. What made him pause was the ferret on Tyfurkh’s head—Sil. Either the Sightless had judged her no threat at all, or the earlier hypothesis was true, and Ferris couldn’t imagine Sil being ignored if both seen and heard.
“Lynx, Sil’s on Tyfurkh,” Ferris said, his sword raised and his eyes on the cultist who'd broken ranks to make a charge for where they stood. “If we clear the way, you could—” he grunted as he clashed swords with the cultist, bracing himself and hurling the cultist back onto the floor where a passing guard took up the opportunity and delivered the fatal strike. “You could distract the leader. Just enough for Tyfurkh to put some distance in.”
He turned to meet the familiar’s eyes, searching for some sort of understanding or agreement. Another charging cultist was sidestepped as Ferris turned instead to a preoccupied cultist on the path to Tyfurkh, slashing at the back of his legs and elbowing him forwards towards the waiting guard. One engagement at a time, he moved forward, utilizing the ire of the guards, who’d quickly placed him as an ally, to his advantage.
As soon as he was close enough, he made a charge for the Sightless looming over Tyfurkh, his weight behind the shoulder-level thrust. His comrades were either beside or behind him, but they were both worn from their previous battles. Lynx, despite being invisible to the Sightless, was not a front line fighter. And, besides those two points, there was that the Sightless could see the future—that there’d be no point in trying to sneak up on some demon-channeling seer.
But those were just reasons Ferris could have used. In reality, he engaged because he could. Because, alone, that’s what he did.
Eryn Montero
Descent Tower || Day 5: Morning || @PlatinumSkink
“Heya Wil, morning!” Eryn said, waving when the Ruin Maniac came into view. “And yeah, it was all Tula, though, right Tutu?” Eryn asked as she looked down at the wriggling Magikarp in her arms, patting her with a grin. “Knew you could do it. Knew it.”
Her Pokemon stood beside her, she watched as Wilhelm led them to the shore they were diving from, surprised to see the man unloading a surprising amount of diving gear from his backpack. Out came flippers, goggles, wetsuits, and all sorts of other equipment Eryn stopped knowing the first thing about.
“Oh, I can borrow this? Can I just buy it off you?” she asked, beaming as she held up a wetsuit. “Er, why exactly… you know what, nevermind,” she said, draping the wetsuit over her arm and picking up a pair of goggles. Then, looking to the Quagsire, she held up a pair of flippers. “Hey, will I need these?”
The Quagsire’s response was a bit lacking, and Eryn hesitated briefly, then set the flippers back down. Since the word ‘ruins’ seemed to imply some amount of depth, she doubted flippers would be able to help her much. After all, she had the Quagsire, and if that wasn’t enough, she also had Tula.
“Right, gimme just a second,” she said, looking around. Though there wasn’t much cover, there was Peri, and Eryn grinned.
“Peri, give me a hand, won’t you?” she asked, waving the Onix over. A minute or two later, the Onix uncoiled, and Eryn stepped out in the wetsuit with her hair tied in a stubby ponytail and the goggles snapped around her head.
“Thanks, Peri! And watch this for me, won’t you?” she asked, making sure the zipper of her bag was closed before putting the bag on the Onix. “Pretty sure these are waterproof,” she said, grabbing her Pokedex and stepping back with a grin. “Right, that’s that, then. See you four in a bit!”
Given that Tula was the only water-dweller of the bunch, there was no reason to attempt to bring anyone but her. Kylie, the metal-type, would sink as quickly as Peri, who seemed all too glad to be told to wait despite never seeming to explicitly cite a desire to. Dei, on the other hand, appeared to be extremely unhappy about the whole situation, his hands crossed as he stared at Eryn, smoke trailing from his nostrils with every unhappy puff.
“Oh, c’mon, Dei. You’d hate the water,” Eryn said, rubbing the Charmander’s head with a grin. “Stay dry and keep Eri company, won’t you? You two can finish your conversation from last night, then maybe clue Kylie and Peri in while you’re at it.”
Eri’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced behind him, his Nuzleaf form’s leaf twitching as he locked eyes with Kylie, who smiled sweetly with one mouth and flashed some fangs with the other. Dei, on the other hand, huffed again, flicking his tail, but Eryn only laughed, giving him a final pat before straightening.
“Don’t miss me too much!” she said, saluting them as she jogged towards Wilhelm and the Quagsire, Pokedex and Tula in hand. Upon arrival, she looked between the two with a grin. “So, how’re we doing this?”
Now, breathing bubbles weren’t Eryn’s first idea as to how ruin exploring would work, but that’s how the Quagsire operated, enveloping both itself and Eryn and Wilhelm in a bubble. Since she was preoccupied with the newness of the whole situation, she didn’t realize until they reached the bottom that she could have brought more of her team along than Tula.
“Well, I guess there was no reason for the suit and goggles either,” she said, sighing as she pulled the goggles off so they dangled around her neck. Then, shifting Tula, she frowned. “I think I want you next to me, not out there swimming,” she said, rubbing Tula as she continued looking around. All around, architectural constructs stood, speckled with algae and signs of underwater wearing yet somehow still seeming to be altogether intact. What part of these ruins were ruined, exactly? Sure there was the odd fallen pillar or tipped-over statue, but almost everything was untouched, unbroken.
“Guess someone’s been taking care of these ruins, huh?” she joked, glancing at Wilhelm. “Hey, Wil, why’re these ruins here, exactly? Like is this a sunken city or are there merpeople?”
The last part was meant as a joke, but Eryn was too distracted to follow up, watching as Pokemon drifted by. Poliwag and Poliwhirl were rather common, making up the small schools following the passing Politoed, which was dwarfed by a huge Pokemon that Eryn remembered to open her Pokedex for. Seismitoad, the vibration Pokemon, then Whiscash, which Eryn had seen before in a few fishing contest photos.
“Well, Wil, do you have anywhere specific you wanna go? ‘Cuz, if not, it’s exploring time,” Eryn said, grinning. “Let’s follow that Seismitoad! At a distance, of course. So we’re not being rude.”
And just like that, Eryn managed to rope the crew into spending a few minutes—or more, but who was counting—following after random Pokemon and poking into random ruins and crevices to look at carvings or murals that there happened to be. Being a tourist in Pureplain was quite different from being a tourist in an underwater city, where she was just about the only tourist in sight.
Eventually, after she’d satisfied her curiosity with following just about every interesting wild and getting a better look at every piece of sunken civilization that came into view, Eryn exhaled, grinning again. “Right, where were we again?” she asked, looking around. “Going deeper, right? Yeah, okay, let’s go. Should be, er, this way,” she said, pointing in the right direction. Or, was it a random direction?
“Huh, weird,” she said, then shrugged. “Deeper we go!”
In
The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Keaton Plasse
“This ship’s interesting, that’s for sure,” Keaton said, flashing Lynn a grin. They were overdue for a meeting, but that was mainly because the past month had been pretty quiet. Before Homecoming, it’d been all about finding Arianna and hearing her side of the story. Now, she wasn’t so sure. What she was sure about, though, was the ship and the children on it, and that’s what she’d chosen to focus on.
Keaton was mid-thought when the doors opened, and she glanced over, her grin slipping off her face as she registered the guns—civilians—terrorists?—big guns—they’re going to—
The staccato beats of bullets ricocheting off steel dropped her to the ground, and she vaguely registered wet ‘thcks’ as her eyes darted between the crimson splotches staining her friends’ clothing. Eli’s leg—bone?—Lynn on the floor, her chest pooling red, Amelia’s neck, blood seeping through her hands. Lynn was up first—scrabbling first, reaching back—her spine—she healed fast—was that enough? An acrid smell indicated cauterization, and Keaton watched, transfixed as Lynn dragged herself towards Amelia. Her lips moved, and Amelia screamed, a trail of smoke flowing from Lynn’s glowing hand.
Sounds melded together as Keaton looked back to Eli, staring at the girl as the pounding of her heart or the gunshots—both—both—reverberated inside her head. There was too much going on for her to focus on a thought, and instead things streamed by her as she watched, the quiet part of her mind prodding her, telling her that this was no more blood than other times, easily drowned by the noise around her.
Lynn’s voice summoned her, and she looked over in time to see part of the girl’s face burst open. For a moment, everything was—was?—silent, the mangled chunks of Lynn’s face merely a pale pink against the shards of bone. Then, the moment was gone, Lynn falling, hitting the floor in a splat of growing red. Keaton barely registered her own voice as she lowered her hands from her ears, reaching, crawling for Lynn, a sear of sharpness grazing her side that she didn’t mind, but which blazed into pain that shot through her side, arms—rib—as she moved, fell, slipped on blood, looked down and tried to distinguish her blood from that of the pool she’d landed in. A hole was visible in her jacket, black against the blue, and the pain forced her to still for a moment, her neck craned. She wouldn’t die of it—not enough blood—did it hurt as much as when she dislocated her kneecap?—Lynn.
She looked back up, but Lynn and Amelia were gone, and she sat there for another moment, her mind blank. Lynn was injured, pale, cold, expended too much energy, needed to get to heat—but she wasnt’t here anymore. Death—coma—healing—answers—
A scream—Eli—prompted her to look back, an ebb of nausea rolling over her as she trembled, shook her hands, scrambled to her feet, the pain beginning to become tolerable—adrenaline—pressure—wouldn’t bleed out, wouldn’t die quickly. She rushed to Eli’s side, looking her over, only somewhat aware of the groans and shallow splashing around her. Leg—calf—can’t walk—not fatal—bleeding.
“W-we need to go,” she said, her voice shaky despite her best efforts to steel herself as she spoke. Her hands trembled, her knees trembled, everything was a bit blurry, doubled—tears—but they needed to go while the gunmen were still reeling from Eli’s attack. “H-help me hold her,” she said, grabbing Eli’s free arm and wrapping it around her neck. Pain lanced through her side, but she squashed it, looking to the girl when she didn’t move. She was younger—a child—scared—frozen—wasting time.
Keaton fixed her with a glare, anger bubbling. “Help. Me.”
The girl was equally—more—trembly than Keaton, but she did as asked, attempting to support part of Eli’s weight by attempting to push up from where her hands were wrapped around the taller girl’s waist. She was barely helping, but her grip left Eli’s other hand free to hold her gun as they maneuvered over bodies. A gunman up ahead shook his head, looking around, and Keaton bit the inside of her mouth.
“Go,” she said, releasing her hold on Eli so the girl’s good foot touched ground again. A glance around and she located a gun—the handle dented—still operational—and she picked it up—pain—staring at the gunman, at how he gripped the gun, how he raised it, cocked it, mirroring what she saw best she could, her power pushing her to lower the hilt of the gun below her collarbone, fully extend her left hand, press the hilt of the gun against her face, slick smearing off against her cheek as she hunched over further. His gun went off, and Keaton’s did too, her head bouncing with the motion, the gun slipping, shifting, the bent side rapping against her cheek and chest with every jolt. Pain seared through her side—bone moved—poking something—and she dropped her arms, breathing, trying to cycle air as she stared at the man she’d shot, who wasn’t dead, was far from dead, was scrambling for his gun. He moved to raise it, and Keaton beat him to it, her power guiding her through the same motions, improving her hold here, her grip there. This time, the man fell, and pain whipped past her shoulder, prompting her to whirl around, adjusting her grip and firing at the man who’d shot. Her side, chest, shoulder all burned, her side the worst, though she was unable to distinguish where each spike of pain came from. Rib definitely poking something—not lung—liver?—muscle?
She backed into a wall, down it, the gun clutched in her hands as she panted, her breaths short, shallow, shaky—hyperventilating—panic attack—deep breaths—each breath more of a gasp than the last, her mouth tasting of blood and metal. Could she fire the gun again? Her whole body burned, her toes cold, wet, numb as her eyes flicked around the scene again. How many gunmen were there? This wasn’t The Promise staff. Arianna then? Someone else?
She slid down the wall, her pants soaking up the blood under her as her eyes flicked to the bloody, lifeless, hollow body of a girl she thought—had seen—architecture class—barely talked to her. Pain and cold were the only feelings as she sat there, the gun in her hands and the girl’s blood-matted hair beside her foot. Her breaths were quick, erratic—trying—not working—blood, nauseating—as she rested her head against the wall, staring at what remained of the welcoming crowd and gunmen.
Archie—Natalie—D's headless body—her eyes picked them out of the crowd—Eli—Amelia—Lynn. And herself—definitely bleeding out—internal—slow and steady. Her heart pounded, though she could only feel it over her breaths.
boop
© 2007-2026