Vertigo

☆Summers In Sympathy☆

Is it too late to jump in? Had an idea for a jock type of character, just gotta find a playby.

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

-Crawls out of the woodwork- If my schedule clears up enough to allow for it, I'm definitely signing up for round two.

Here Be Dragons: A Horror/Mecha RP on the Dark Frontier

I'm not usually much into the mecha genre - but damn. Interested, if there's still room!

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

I'll try to get a CS in before closure on Friday!

Just a question though, which one would be more welcomed; the earlier mentioned hitman, or a hacker contracted to wreck all sorts of havoc on opposition campaigns and such? We already have a bodyguard and a middle-aged man with criminal connections (which would have been my angle with the hitman) so I'm learning towards the hacker to keep the cast more varied. He would be a younger man in his twenties. Would a character like that work, or should I try to find a third option?

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

Thinking of making a hitman for the team, if allowed. Though since I imagine actual assassination jobs would be fairly rare, he could double as a bodyguard or provide some valuable intel on the side. Most likely he'd glean information from his underworld contacts for a fee or in exchange for a favour (often a deadly kind).

He'd likely be in his 40s, so plenty of opportunities for past encounters with other characters. May or may not have a protégé under his wing.

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

Hey, yeah... I'm super sorry about this, but I think I have to drop out after all :/ There's just too much going on IRL rn. I don't think it's just the CS that's taking me unusually long - at this rate, it would be the posts as well. And thaaaat would not be fair.

You've been super patient and I'm really sorry for making you wait this long for nothing, but the spot is better served by someone with more time in their hands. Good luck with the rp, though! I might read along when I get the time for even that, ha.

The Long Night | Medieval Fantasy

R Y L A N T W Y F O R D

Durand Aviary
Night
Interacting with @ambra, @vietmyke

If there were signs heralding Tristan’s outburst, Rylan was ignorant of them all.

By the time he noticed the other’s intentions, it was entirely too late. He felt a sudden, powerful yank - and the next he knew, he was staring up into eyes ablaze with fury. Rylan stiffened like a cat cornered, ready to lash out at the sudden threat before it lashed at him. Sword. Tristan, this mad fool, had brandished a sword earlier. It only took one angry swing, and--

Instinct brought the thief’s hand to the hilt of his hidden dagger - but reason kept him from unsheathing it. No. If he pulled out a blade first, he would do naught but seal his fate. It wouldn’t matter if he was faster. It wouldn’t matter if it was self-defense. He’d be an armed thief, and there was no man in the realm that did not hold contempt towards those. It’d be a race to see which pointy weapon impaled him first.

And then, the other let go.

Rylan had been leaning so far back from the man’s anger that he nearly fell on his ass the second he regained control of his body. He stumbled backwards, trying to put as much distance between himself and the absolute madman as he could - without catching the ire of the other madman armed with a crossbow.

Because heaven forbid someone not want to kill him tonight.

Tristan launched into some sort of a spiel about saving the world once more, but Rylan only caught half of it. He was still half-deaf from the gush of blood and adrenaline in his ears.

He caught the gist of it, though. And while the other wasn’t wrong about the state of affairs he described, Rylan quickly realized that he and this bastard had quite a different set of values. He, for one, would much rather die with his cock in a whore and mind in blissful stupor than playing hero in some distant land.

Of course, he’d much rather not die at all.

Not that he was willing to say any of that out loud. He rather liked his tongue where it was.

Rylan could not say he was surprised when the Durand boy offered the noble a place for the night when asked - though he was taken aback by the sleeping arrangements. The boy had a sense of humour.

The scoundrel found himself grinning despite himself. The thought of this infuriating bastard having to sleep among the stryxes made him feel like there was justice in the world yet.

"You too.”

... Or not.

“With--” Rylan blurted before he could catch himself, one finger jabbed in Tristan’s general direction. With that guy, he continued soundlessly, hoping his glare conveyed his sentiments well enough. Whether it did or not, it made no matter. The Durand boy bid them good night, and left his little pet to see to it that they did as they were told.

Rylan shot the noble the nastiest glare he could muster, then stuck to Greytail’s side as they made for inside. Between the beast of a bird and the drunken bastard, he found the latter a much bigger danger. Who knew when he’d fly into another fit of rage and make true his threats. No, tonight, he would stick to the bird’s side like a sailor stuck to a pint of ale.

Guess he would finally find out whether stryx feathers were soft or not.

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

Hey, yeah, sorry I've been mia still >> If I don't manage to get a CS in tomorrow (Monday), feel free to open up the Wind spot again. Love the idea of this rp, but really don't wanna hold onto a spot others might want any longer than that.

Edit: I say that, and then I get sick. Welp. I do have a wip, but totally get it if you've waited too long already.

Edit 2: Only missing the last bit of history now! I have a con this weekend, but I will be able to finish it on Sunday when I'm back.

Edit 3: Unexpected busy times this week, but will finish before the weekend.

Name:

Viviana, The Maiden

Gender:

Female

Age:

20

Race:

Erune, with a large tail signifying her highborn status

Element:

Wind

Dream:

She has three, in fact. To find the land she originally hails from (and whether she has any living family there), to find repentance for her actions as The Maiden, and to discover the real her under the carefully constructed facade, now that she has the freedom to do so.

Home:

The island of Sanctilumia lies secluded far in the north, where few ships see reason to sail. It is a highly theist society, governed by an entity known as the Church of Asgharia.

As tales have it, the island of Sanctilumia used to lie on the brink of ruin many a century ago, hanging so low that any morning could've been its last in the sky. It was the weight of people's sins that weighed it so, they say, and that had it not been for a select few with pure hearts, everyone would have paid for their wretchedness with their lives.

However, the Astrals took pity upon the pure few, and sent a Primal by the name of Asgharia down to scoop the island up. He shook the island until all those with impurities had fallen off it, and then returned the island back to its rightful place.

To this day, Asgharia still holds the island upon his shoulders. However, should the weight of sin ever grow too grave, his grip might slip or he may abandon his duty yet. To prevent that, sacrifices are necessary; those who have committed crimes must be cast down from the edge of the island into the abyss to ease the Primal's burden.

... Or so the tales say, anyway.

Coincidentally, denying the Church's right to rule or disobeying its representatives is considered the gravest sin of all. And so, their power remains absolute and unchallenged, generation after generation.

Quite convenient, indeed.

Gimmicks:

Viviana's fighting style, if one were to call it that, is highly focused on defense and support. She can conjure strong winds to shield her or her allies, or use her fan to channel gusts in whichever direction she wishes. These powerful blasts of wind can either enhance the running and striking speed of her allies, or hinder her enemies in various ways; slowing them, pushing them back or stealing away their sight or hearing momentarily.

Due to her frailty, she tends to have a passive wind shield around herself at most times. Much to her dismay, it is conspicuous; one can see and feel the wind if they get close enough.

Her powers are at their peak outside on a stormy or a windy day, and at their weakest when confined inside buildings where air does not flow freely.

Personality:

From an early age, Viviana was taught to be humble, demure, and above everything else, obedient. Independent thought was dismissed as unnecessary, even dangerous. And while she has been freed from such a position, the teachings she followed her entire life have had an impact on her. To this day wanting anything for herself or, god forbid, voicing her own opinion sound like grave sins to her. And yet despite that - or maybe even because of it - she finds herself wanting to do all those things. It's through those small acts of rebellion that she feels she can get revenge on the ones that ruined her - and so many others' - lives.

But oh, is it ever so difficult. If she isn't actively trying to fight such urges, she will instinctively display the persona crafted for her. She will be kind, quiet, avoid all decision making, follow others' lead and smile and nod if asked for her opinion - at times, she may even lapse into prayer. It takes immense amount of willpower and frustration for her to break away from such norms. Luckily, her perfectly calm exterior belies an endless amount of said frustration. She was taught to never get irritated or angry - but a person simply cannot live that way. If they do not get outwardly mad, they must store the anger somewhere. And Viviana has a twenty years' worth. It's a potent power unlike any other, but also very volatile. You know what they say about bewaring the nice ones.

Speaking of things she carries inside her, her frustration is likely only matched by guilt. Realizing that she's essentially sent hundreds of people to their deaths and felt righteous about it for years was not an easy thing to accept. She still hasn't quite accepted it - and that just makes her feel even more guilt. As such, whenever she rushes to someone's aid (and that is often, considering what a mother hen she can be) she isn't entirely sure whether she does it out of genuine kindness towards others - or an unacceptably selfish need to make up for her past deeds. Perhaps it's neither. Perhaps it's worse; perhaps she wants to be hailed as the kind and caring Maiden she once was by those she saves. Worst of all, is that she does not know - and isn't sure if she wants to. She could not bear the thought of finding her true self to be a bad person.

Background:

Viviana was not born on Sanctilumia, though she might as well have; she retains only a few, fleeting memories of her life prior. She knows she used to live in a palace where the walls were white as snow, and the ceiling was so high that she thought it endless. She remembers her parents and brother - and she remembers the day the storm took them all.

It happened on her third winter. The lustrous ship that carried her and her family got caught in a storm and ended up terribly off-course, eventually crashlanding onto the shores of Sanctilumia. To the secluded locals, the ornate ship was a thing of miracles. The few ships that dared do business in this corner of the world were sturdy and dull, and there were no jewels adorning their masts.

And then, they saw Viviana. An Erune - and one with a tail, no less! There was no one like her on the island, and the Church wasted no time making use of people's awe. They declared her The Maiden, a descendant of the original pure few who summoned Asgharia to their aid all those years ago. She was his apostle, they declared, sent to lead the land to a new age of prosperity.

Those were the words she would hear over and over again for nearly two decades. And though it sounds so unbelievable now, she never once questioned the tale spun to her. The priests and priestesses that brought her up were her family, and the mysterious being known as Asgharia, whom she never once saw or heard, was a creature worthy of absolute obedience. Why, because she was told so.

It was in the name of Asgharia that she oversaw many a sacrifice. One unfortunate soul after another was cast off the edge of the world into certain doom, her words of blessing the last thing they heard before the rush of wind rendered them deaf. But this was how it was supposed to be, she was told. Those sacrificed would find repentance in death and be reborn as better people, somewhere far away.

Then, one early morning in autumn, the Maiden's tale ended much as it had begun; with a foreign ship in the southern sky. This one was as ordinary as they came, a trading ship like any other. It docked in the port like many others before it, and the crew begun to unload their wares. A regular scene, to be sure.

Only this time, the ship did not leave come dusk. Something was wrong with the wings, or the mast, or something or the other. Viviana was not privy of the details, but she welcomed the strangers to stay on the island for the night like she was instructed to.

---- wip ----

Inventory:

🌸 A decorated fan, which she uses to channel her wind powers. And, you know, get some relief on a hot day.

🌸 An intricate medallion, with a snow dove emblazoned onto it; the only clue she as of her origins.

🌸 A journal, which she uses to document her travels and discoveries, of both the world around her and her own self.

Current Mood in One Gif

>Trying to get my shit together and write

Valar Morghulis: A Game of Thrones Roleplay