Utrax

Council of the Night

From the scents gathered, Itimpu came the the conclusion that no one had stolen the Pale-Black king, at least. So this made him go back to the letter envelope. As the Phantom began part two of his lecture, one could see Itimpu hovering over the letter, with his face all scrunched up. To those with sensitive ears, they could likely hear him very lowly, trying to 'sound it out'.

"A.. ah? Fr-- fr? Ffff. R? R. Ri?" He snorted and squinted.
"Ah-free-kuh?"
"Ssss... sooou..." then in rapid Fillipino, Itimpu said to himself, "(FP)If this is where he go I must go-- but why did he not just tell us to meet him--"

Fur rising along his spine, Itimpu's ears caught the noise of a very subtle whistle on the wind-- the noise of a mortar round roaring through the air. Oh, Itimpu recognized the sound immediately. Having been attacked by similar weapons-- having used a few himself-- and from his rather odd experience as a Mercenary, this was a knowledgeable cat. Yes. He knew.

So he not-so subtly ducked beneath Dracula's desk long before it exploded-- probably looking strange as he did so-- but the noise overhead soon justified his action. A sharp growl escaped him after it went off. In his Cat Brain, all he thought about now was how this was hurting Dracula's house. This meant then, that he had to prevent the harm to the Pale-Black King's territory right now. Baring his teeth, Itimpu's eyes shot to the window, as he crouched on all fours, tail thrashing about.

People were speaking-- saying something about things-- and Itimpu smelled sweat, adrenaline, and the surest hint of rifle carbon on the wind. There were soldiers outside trying to lay siege to the castle! This was not theirs-- they had no right to take it while the Pale-Black King was away, but who was going to defend it? Surely not Fish-Beast and The Boys. Lowly, sub-vocally, Itimpu made a noise of warning-- snorted-- then made a decision.

As the Phantom whispered back the details of the Army, if no one was to stop this guy, Itimpu would take a running leap over the Phantom, and out into the night. He hoped to use the element of surprise, if he had it, and tear apart every single whoever-whatever was trying to TAKE Dracula's house.

What were they gonna do? Shoot him?
Launch Mortar rounds at him?
He'd been through worse.

Council of the Night

Now my question becomes-- Anyone wanna collab and stop Itimpu from LEAPING OVER THE PHANTOM and directly at the Armed Special Forces? Cause... that's what's gonna happen.
If not, he's just gonna GO.

UNTOLD STORY: Final Dungeon

@Lugia@Rapid Reader@Bork Lazer
Lightning bolt after lightnign bolt struck the SKYSQUID and it thrashed about, having what was very much the Cephalopod approximation of a seizure. This movement, of course, caused the tentacles to dance about erractically-- smashing into the land with heavy blows or flailing about in an uncoordinated mess.

Then came the Warhammer.

In the middle of the seizure, the Warhammer descended from the sky, and landed with a HEAVY blow to the SKYSQUID's body-- to say what happened next was anything other than gruesome would be a disservice. Like a stomped on cockroach, the body of the SKYSQUID brust open, squirting its innards about in a brilliantly colored pink MESS as Fred's spell did it's work. Perhaps this spell was properly timed, for who could imagine how much worse the accurately colored SKYSQUID insides would be? Tyroden probably could.

Almost simultaneously, the parted pieces of SKYSQUID rather rapidly reshaped themselves, a the hole in the ground widened considerably under the forces of conflict.

The party now witnessed the birth of baby SKYSQUIDs without their consent.

These Warhammer divided and electrocuted sections of SKYSQUID tore away from each other, up until they were fully divided. SKYSQUID scales danced and moved about rapidly on these sections, taking tentacles with them, and flopping about on the ground as a horde of angry little bonemen approached. Now, the SKYSQUID was two-- each section took only one eye with it-- and it was very much trying to escape now.

Of course, now there was yet another problem.

From the sky there rained down three massive harpoon-like "arrows"-- six feet long from tip to end. Each was tipped with glowing "metal" that looked molten, these arrows impacted the battleground with thunderous force, and stood in the sandy ground only feet away from the party members-- clearly having been intended for them. Upon the passing of ten seconds, these arrows exploded, with a burst of magically fueled heat and force-- the force clearly meant to push our heroes off of the strip of "land" if they stood too close to the edge or hole.

Approximately forty seconds would pass before another "volley" of three arrows were shot toward each party member, so there was some time to think about what exactly was happening, at least. Right?

SKYSQUIDs really seemed intent on escape at the moment, still, but that didn't mean it wasn't just trying to get back into a position to ambush them.

Council of the Night

@Polyphemus
Nah, don't hold off for a birb! GO! Full steam ahead, Cap'n!

Redhart Academy: A Fantasy/Horror RP

I'm interested!
Hello!

Council of the Night

@RedVII Actually.
I noticed your character is Multilingual.
Does he happen to speak Fillipino or Tagalog?
If so, I'mma slide into the DM's for possible collab.

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

^{Meanwhile, on the S.S. RichOrgy... or whatever it's named--}

"Uh, Mariah? Mariah wait--" hastily the oiled up, muscle bound, young black man with an Alabama drawl-- who was wearing nothing but a shiny pair of silver shorts-- caught the closing door behind Mariah, just before it slammed shut. He halted its momentum then closed it gently. This cabin, aboard Blake FUCKING Schmidt's boat, had been slightly converted into Mariah's dressing room. She stood in front of a large mirror, which was surrounded by lights, and featured an expensive looking counter top, which she held onto with a nearly white knuckle grip, as she inhaled and exhaled DEEP cleansing breaths. Before her upon this counter were the unpacked contents of her makeup and costume bag. Mariah was still in full Drag, having just performed the opening set of songs, while dressed in a look inspired by the angels she was currently pleading with for patience.

As he listened to Mariah's second exhale, the buff young man nodded. "Aight then," he began turning to face Mariah slowly, "Clearly you upset by what he said but uh--" he found himself shuffling out of the way as the door opened behind him. In stampeeded another silver-booty-shorts oiled up buff man, who spoke, without a single second of hesitation, in an accent thick from Peru, "Sis he call you a got'damn SHE-MALE."

"Tory, what the fuck," replied the first man, gesturing to Mariah, who was very clearly trying to keep her shit together. Tory sucked his teeth as he shut the door, "Ey, don't 'What the fuck' me, man-- Ry, you jus' gon' take that shit?" Mariah turned to him, fury in her eyes, and let out a frustrated, barely volume controlled, noise of frustration. "Ey, see? She pissed off too--so we gon' fuck him up or..." Tory gestured, adjusting his balls unsubtly, then throwing his hands up to indicate readiness.

"Motherfucker-- don' you see she countin' to sixty n' shit--" spoke up the young black man, as he moved to take a seat upon one of two stools, which were placed before the mirror, "--which is really kinda. I mean. I ain't sayin' it's weird but uh--"

"You woulda took the chain' out onna bitch in the club," Tory finished the thought, "So whassup?"

Taking another deep, frustrated breath, Mariah opened her mouth to speak, then had to take one more breath. Her statement began with a tongue pop, as she practically spoke through her teeth, "Ten thousand dollars. Split three ways."

"Maxi--" Tory began bluntly, "-- she the one that said you ain't suppos'ta sell you soul for no money? You stick to you morals. Sis a hypocrite."

Maxi made a face, "I mean," was all he responded with, finishing the thought with a shrug.

"How bout you both shut the fuck up-- And Tory? Spell hypocrite," Mariah paused for a few beats as Tory's face scrunched. She held her hand up, palm toward him, then pulled her finger back, "That's what I thought. Bye, bitch. Look," she clapped on the word. As she spoke, she began removing her wings and Maxi got up to help her, "Mamma's fridge was lookin' awful empty plus, okay, he call me out my name." Maxi helped her place other parts of her outfit aside and Tory moved to pick up a previously opened bottle of water. He drank it with a sigh as Mariah continued, "I been called worse by better and Mamma always said I need to work on my temper."

"Yeah okay," Tory swished the bottled water around, as if it were wine, "What if he call Maxi the N word. Or what if he tell us to go back to our country or something else." As Tory drank quite thirstily, Mariah removed her wig as Maxi prepared another, and she watched him in silence for a few beats.

Mariah turned to the mirror and began removing her makeup, "There certain shit I ain' willin' to look over but hey-- if he got a fetish or some shit, then maybe he'll tip more, huh? Only fetish havin people know that term-- typing it in on PornHub n'shit. You hears they be throwin' out twenties like it ain't shit on these boat parties, tho? Fifties? Hunnids?" There was definitely the rising moral conflict gnawing a pit into her chest but, as usual, she crumpled the feeling and dunked it into the trash.

This was a good gig... in concept. Maybe one of these other Rich Pricks would invite her to perform here, another there, and next she'd be twerkin' on a coke head's dick for a fat fiddy in Mar a Largo. Don't sell your soul but get your goal-- that was the way. She had plans to stay clean of drugs n' shit but Mariah knew how this world was-- rich folk loved coke. As long as they were high as hell, the money would keep rollin' in, and she could just look the other way. These were muddy waters-- shit, there go those feelings again. A deep exhale left Mariah once more and she shook her head.

"Who even go to the bank and ask for fifties," Maxi idly remarked as he worked on the wig with a curling iron. Tory sucked his teeth again and laughed, "Man, if I was rich I ask for shit in gold dollars and fifty coins. Make it hail on dem hoes!"

Mariah laughed, wiping her face over with makeup removal wipes, "All I'm sayin' is, I'm willin' to look over one strike. Just one. He shouldn' feel the need to use it within earshot no more. Plus I made my point, didn't I?"
"Girl, you know that man ain't listen," Maxi said with a shake of his head, "Soon as he heard anything on the woke spectrum he got that Rich White Man trance where they don' hear shit brown people be sayin'."
"That's what I'm sayin'," Tory, once again, sucked his teeth, "Jus' go old school Ry on a rich prick-- money fall out like punchin' bricks on Mario."

"Plus tengo oído que su verga es pequeña," Mariah laughed as she pumped primer into her hand.

Maxi sighed and asked, with the air of a man that knew futility, "What?"
Tory simply burst into laughter.

Neither of them translated.

"Duolingo ain't shit," Maxi mumbled.

UNTOLD STORY: Final Dungeon

No rush.
We're not like.
Writing up the cure for cancer here or anything.
I am the bastion of everlasting patience when it comes to RP.
I'm here for fun.

UNTOLD STORY: Final Dungeon

Yes, Dr. Lugia, the waiting is happening.
I'm givin @Rapid Reader a fair amount of time to react to Ratte Bolt.
Then I'll toss up the post of forward progression.

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

Mariah Mainline

╚══════════════╝

"Life's a drag..."

[ 26 | 6ft 3in | Black Latinx | She/Her | 188lbs ]

[Bold]

A Drag Look

APPEARANCE

"Yes, it's the heart that matters, but that don't mean you can't slay!"

Hooo, wee she's a tall bitch-- those legs go on for days, weeks, months, but she's slim because she's underfed. Homelessness will do that to a Queen-- a queen who keeps her plain jane curly hair short, so that she can wear those beauty shop wigs easier. And she's always wearing some kind of makeup, even if it's part of that, 'naturally unnatural,' trend the IG models are on nowadays. None may behold the face without the beat for makeup is WARPAINT. Earrings? Simple warrior's charms of LUCK. When it's time for a look, she's all about the pastels and neons-- favoring a style reminiscent of a little girl's sugar high-hallucination, with all the bows, satin, beads, shiny stuff, sequins, glitter, and bright colors included.

Some would call her hair unkept but that's cause bedhead is IN, sis! Plus, just because the rent's a month late, don't mean her nails ain't done, brows ain't done, and skin ain't clear-- there's priorities here, people. She will admit that her facial hair grows in pretty quick so, her mustache will be there by the end of the day, ready to announce to the world she can't afford them hormone pills. Tragic really, but a flat chested Queen sure can afford them fake titties, when the time comes for the glow up.

Pre-glow involves just the saddest t-shirts dumped off at Goodwill, with them dad at the cookout jeans or shorts, complete with dirty sandals that look stolen from a gladiator. Always with the sandals! Maybe it's to show off the pedicure but, we all know it's just cause she spent all her money on good drag, a busted car, and more makeup than anyone could feasibly use in a lifetime. Oh, and tattoos, because of course she had to spend money on tattooing nonsense-- a candycane here, cheshire cat there, an octopus, Ronald McDonald... Nothing follows any kind of theme but she sure has those tattoos scattered about on her arms.

PSYCHOLOGY

"You either call me Mariah or don't call me at all, honey!"

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Paying that damn rent? Truth be told, she wants to buy a large house, and set up a safe space for LGBTQAI+ children who were in the same situation she was. To do that, she's got to amass a fortune, first.

WHAT THEY WANT OUT OF THE COVEN ⫻ Networking! She considers herself to be a freak among freaks, but in a good way, so she wants to find others like her. Maybe they know a guy who knows a guy, you know? Also if anyone possibly knows who are parents are, that'd be nice, but she doubts she'll ever figure that mystery out.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Nobody will ever love or understand you like your-damn-self! The good word of this philosophy needs to be spread, she believes.

SECRETS ⫻ Traveling down to Tampa involved a lot of train hopping, wandering through the woods, and sleeping on the ground. She saw a few too many things she shouldn't have-- a few of those things saw her back.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Very Pansexual but afraid of being heartbroken again.

FEARS ⫻ Heartbreak, never finding love again, and oh, being murdered for being herself. She doesn't want to live in fear so she lives as upfront as possible, but it's always in the back of her mind-- wondering if today will be the day.

REPUTATION ⫻ In the Florida Drag Community, she's known for being very caring-- the type that would give you the shirt off her back, as she has quite literally done this before. She's also known for being quite hot-headed and often goes 'claws out' before thinking-- her ability to own up to her vicious and snappy remarks, and apologize for them, has earned her some grudging respect.

FLAWS ⫻ Trust-issues and Impulsiveness-- a combination that has gotten her in trouble on more than one occasion. When she believes she's right, there's hardly anything that can convince her otherwise, and she will often act on her beliefs without thinking. And yes, while she can apologize for her hot-headed remarks, there's always a deeper part of her that feels justified. Mariah hates being wrong, having acted in error, and doesn't admit it either. And this is all coupled with a deep mistrust of literally everyone, everything, and reality itself sometimes. Trust no one, not even yourself, is the easiest way to surmise this issue. She doesn't even trust herself when she thinks she's right, which is a loop-de-loop of a complex, which causes her to act impulsively in order to avoid indecisiveness. She's... working on this?

BACKSTORY

"Nobody even wanted me-- so I had to want myself."

Well.
What does this world do with an orphan? One with no name, found wandering the streets at the age of two, naked and all alone, with no birth record, DNA match-- absolutely nothing connecting them to anyone? For weeks the local news ran the story of a baby found wandering down highway 64 in Virginia Beach, Virginia. After months of no leads, dead end investigations, and no one coming forward to claim the child, she was sent an Orphanage, of course. That was the first.

She was adopted at the age of four.
Sent back to an Orphanage.
Adopted at the age of eight.
Sent back to an Orphanage.

And her final adoption, at the age of eight, ended in runaway.
Around the age of eleven, Mariah began wearing makeup, her little sister's dresses, and of course her adopted family 'caught' her. They hated how she insisted on being called Mariah. They figured it was just something adopted kids do, right? Identity crisis would just be a phase, right? But they'd had enough.

They wanted a "normal" child.
They wanted a little boy.

So on the way back to the orphanage, to exchange this broken child for a new one, Mariah herself had enough. Nowadays she joked about how cars back then didn't have child locks, just for situations like this, and that if that car had? Well, she always laughs, she figures she'd be a bit more sane cause her head wouldn't have been banged around so much. Yes, Mariah jumped out of a moving vehicle, in daytime traffic on I-64, in order to avoid being sent to the Orphanage again, botched the landing, promptly jumped off the bridge, and into a new life-- sort of. This... triggered her Kindling-Event. What was most distressing about this event was meeting the "Abuelas" one moment then snapping back into reality just before hitting the water. They couldn't have let her pass up that cold watery slap in the face, huh?

Thus began her life "on the run". Homeless, young, possessing nothing, really helped her with learning how to survive-- mostly by stealing and begging. She left Virginia for North Carolina almost immediately. She resided in train stations, old buildings, the occasional diner, panhandled for money, dated some rich kid, and break-danced for extra cash.

At sixteen, train hopping led her to Florida where she decided to stay, especially since the winters weren't so cold. A local drag queen spotted her dancing her ass off on a boardwalk, took her in, and the rest is history-- sort of.

SKILLS & TALENTS

"I get my credentials from the streets, baby."

[Dancing] ⫻ Vogueing, pop-locking, break dancing, flamenco, rumba, mambo, and a healthy dose of Técnica. Mariah proved at a young age to be adept at dancing, as it came as naturally to her as breathing.

[Stealing] ⫻ She didn't want to shop-lift or steal from people on the street, but she had to eat, right? Mariah is especially good at pick-pocketing and lying as a result.

[Sewing] ⫻ Her Drag-Mom taught her to make her own clothes and that a hot glue gun is a bit too cheap.

[Spanish] ⫻ Her Drag-Mom was Cuban, insisted that Mariah was probably Cuban or Puero-Rican, "Or some latin shit," and insisted on teaching her Spanish. She has a rather Cuban accent when speaking Spanish, as a result, but a southern-ish accent when speaking English.

ABSTRACTION

"Mis Abuelas showed me how but I had to learn the rest."

TYPE ⫻ Adept

ABSTRACTION ⫻ Yellow-Orange Lux -- Channeler: A weighted flamenco fan she's had since her Drag-Mom gifted it to her.

ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻
"The Hater Blocker" ⫻ A spell which grants an object the ability to block, absorb, deflect, or outright reflect whatever abstraction or physical attack is used whenever this ability is active on an object. Since it is very much orange-based, it has to be cast upon an object in order to activate its effects.

"Low-Key Vibes" ⫻ When cast upon a person or object, it causes the target to become easily ignored until they become unnoticeable. While it's not outright invisibility, the less one focuses on the object this is cast on, the more effective the spell becomes.

"Center Stage" ⫻ When cast, it essentially draws attention toward whatever person or object it is cast upon. Straight up provocation. It's the ability to call and hold attention as long as the spell is channeled. The longer the object on Center Stage is focused on, the less likely one is to lose focus on it.

LIMITS ⫻ The Hater-Blocker is effective against projectile abstractions and projectile attacks, except it has a harder time working against physical extra-normal attacks. Mainly because emotional-fields clashing weakens its effectiveness. Its effectiveness on a single object degrades as it's used and Mariah will have to reapply it after a while. She can only apply the effect to five objects at a time but applying it drains her of stamina. Of course the effect only works for one direction and the area of effect attacks still are dangerous for Mariah. Whenever Mariah reflects or deflects an attack, its effectiveness is halved. Low-Key Vibes can only be cast upon two objects at most but if they're not in the center of attention the spell works better. If they're being focused on by a few different objects then it may be impossible to cast the spell. Center stage more or less has the same limits, but oppsite.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ Due to the low-yield nature of the abstraction it doesn't have any weaknesses or drawbacks in particular.

OTHER

"Watch it turn out I'm just Italian or middle-eastern or whatever."

Mariah's Theme Song
"Left right left, swiping on tinder, what was love like? I can't remember!"
Regular Fight Song
"I turned nothing to something, my comeback on one hunnid!"
Boss Battle Song
"Who gon' check me, boo? Not you!"

Mariah's Merry Relationship Table

Who tho?	Opinion
Madison	She the one who introduced me to the concept of The Coven in the first place so she aight. Beyond that? She kinda... fucked up? I know we all got issues but you need ta learn some chill, sis.
Claudette	Frenchy ass accent-- she seem okay. Said she was in charge so whateva. I'll just stick with doin' what she say. But she kinda... she kinda ain't shit compared to the other one.
Lyss	Seem like the only one round here with sense like. Actual sense. This the real leader I guess. I'll probably follow her first before the other one.
Kara	She showed up the same time as me in the park to meet Claudette... I don' even wanna know what happened in them woods. Sorry, sis.
Vashti	She introduced herself to me and she was alright up until she turned into fuckin' Godzilla! Holy shit. She seem a bit unhinged but I would be too under them circumstances.
Isla	We've uh... offically been through some shit together. She saved my ass from a monster in the woods and I saved her from drownin' in the 3 feet. So. We good.

Hector "Tory" Alcantara

[24 | Hectory Tory Alcantara | Male]

Description:
A buff Peruvian man, standing at 5ft 7in, with gel-spiked hair, and aggression issues. He's got a serious case of can't shut the fuck up disease and will always blurt out the first thing on his mind. His accent is so thick and his english is so broken that it's a wonder how his shit-talking is always CRYSTAL CLEAR. He loves the gym and getting ripped more than anything, because he thinks he's a bodybuilder, and wants to compete "soon" (something he says allllll the time). People sometimes think there's a language barrier when communicating with him but, the truth is he's just dumb, also uneducated, and only seeking to lift heavy shit and put it back down. Usually he just backs Mariah up by lifting her, dancing with her, or carrying heavy-ass equipment from their "house". He does the work mostly out of loyalty to their house "mother"-- as this makes Mariah some odd "sister" of his. Family is important.

Extra-Normal Ability:
Afflicted -- Steroid Use Demon's Blood
Someone's been selling this man steroids out of the gym for, "Totally massive sick gains," and of course, cause everyone else was taking them, this dumb ass went for them too. At the moment, he still considers them to be regular steroids with the weird side effect of having his balls grow spikes outbursts of aggression, fevers, and above average human strength... Apparently he can grow bone spikes too.