Duncan went through a lifetime of emotions in what must've been a matter of seconds. First he thought he was going to die, then that he couldn't, and then that he already had. In the struggle that followed his landing, his world shrunk until there was no space for anyone or anything but him and his opponent. First it struggled under him, trashing in his grip, smashing Duncan's guts against his chest so violently he thought they might fly out through his back next. Then he realized he was the one underneath, and that breathing was really fucking difficult.
But at least he was still breathing. And he would keep breathing longer than this goddamn bear. That was all that mattered; he just had to hold on longer than it did. That was the final thought going through his mind, before no more thoughts could form. Instinctively, he opened his mouth into a shout, but it had no room to leave his chest. Everything felt like fire. His nose and mouth were filled with the reek of blood.
The next he knew, the beast had stopped struggling. Duncan's eyes fluttered open, and all he saw was more blood. His face was covered in it - but so was the monster's, its skull broken and bleeding. Duncan craned his neck, head spinning, eyes unable to focus. He saw Asahi, split into three identical faces somewhere at the end of a quickly collapsing tunnel of light. Even in his hazy state, Duncan realized the other had saved him. But by the time that thought made it to his conscious mind, it had already transformed; Asahi had helped him. And goddamn was Duncan glad he had.
The wolfbear was heavy on the athlete's torn torso, but it didn't move. It was dead, and he wasn't. He'd won.
Ever so slowly, Duncan raised his hand, a blood-covered thumb extended in Asahi's general direction. His eyes closed and lips parted to reveal a grin, pools of blood collecting between his teeth.
Took the chance to respond with an (attempt at an) attack, cause Emma herself can't dodge/block and also she'd probs die if she ate like, any attack, oop. Hope that works.
Emma watched with unabashed curiosity as the unicyclist's torso was torn open, blood and chunks of flesh spilling onto the stage in copious amounts. It looked like theater blood to her, a little too bright under the blare of the spotlight. Briefly, she wondered what internal organs the creature had; whether a heart beat in its chest, whether it needed lungs to breathe. At the very least, all it needed to move was its wheel, the screech of it loud and ear-piercing. It sounded like a warning, the whistle of an incoming train, and she was stuck in the middle of the tracks.
Aware of her own limits, Emma knew she wouldn't be able to outrun it if she tried - and neither could her shadowy friend, though it certainly did try. It howled, a sound that echoed from a thousand throats at once, as it tried to chase after the threat. It was no use; the unicyclist was fast, almost impossibly so, and the longer her canine lingered in the light, the more it shrunk. But that was alright. For no matter how fast the elephant-headed man may have been, there was one shadow it could never outrun.
Its own.
In the harsh light of the projector, the shadow the unicyclist cast was long and dark, features stretched almost beyond recognition. Like a snake, it slithered upwards where the floor met the wall.
Emma liked snakes.
And so, the shadow suddenly shifted. Not with the motion of the unicyclist, but with the power of vitas. It peeled itself off the wall and floor, stretched body dangling as its own wheel, startlingly silent, spun fast to carry it towards the original to crash straight into it. Upon impact, the shadow's elongated body would attempt to wrap tightly around the bloodied creature and wrestle it to the floor, to squeeze, to constrict, until nothing was left but blood and guts. The shadow's trunk, attached to its own, elephant-like head, bent unnaturally upwards. The trunk had fangs, a jaw that dislodged, and a forked tongue that slipped out to taste the air with a hiss.
A little ways away, Emma took a few steps back towards the darkness that awaited at the stage's edges.
G'luck with the essay! Gonna also post in the next few days, have had the entirety of the post in my mind for ages, just been caught up with other stuff.
The confrontation with the Unicorns seemed so far away that it might as well have happened on another continent. Every bit of the viera's attention was reserved for the king and his knights. Any one of them could turn out a zealous fool, eager to please his king by opening fire at a perceived dissident. None of them did. Well-behaved, these pups.
The viera could've sworn he caught a threat of a frown on the king's face, though it was gone by the time he spoke. His tone was calm, placating, and in its formality, devoid of sympathy for the fallen. Leifur would have preferred the humanity of a frown, of anger. This... was all so very practiced; flattery and excuses, wrapped up in empty promises, all to say that he had, in fact, been entirely unprepared for the occasion.
The king truly was but a boy - and quick to try and shift responsibility to another, Leifur noted, as Leonhart directed the group's attention to his cousin. The king must've known his trust was a burden most heavy for a knight.
"Keep your guards, we can do without," Leifur spat as he turned to leave, one ear already turned to listen in on the conversation starting a little ways ahead. Something about a leader. Before letting up his glare, however, he added: "I should hope that along with the birds and the bread, what you'll offer us in the morrow is all you've gathered of tonight's attack. Their means, motive, something, anything, before we set out to risk life and limb for your cause."
Were the Valheimians truly so hellbent on stopping anyone from retrieving the Light? Surely one of them must've talked, or at the very least let slip something in a moment of anger or fear. Or so he hoped.
The conversation Leifur arrived to was indeed one of leadership. Izayoi nominated Galahad. More trust, more responsibility, piled onto someone so young - if, so far, capable. But then, looking at their group, they didn't exactly have an abundance of options.
Zeidgram seemed to think otherwise. In a move that raised the viera's brow, the mage nominated Arton. Not the worst choice to be sure, but still a peculiar one. Leifur couldn't imagine it came from an unbiased mind. What was the man planning?
"However fond of him you are, he lacks the experience and authority. A fine soldier does not equal a fine leader," Leifur stated outright, arms crossed upon approach. "This is not a game, mage. You've offered no grounds for your support of him, or for your disdain towards Galahad. And it isn't for a lack of love for words. Whatever happened to the prose?"
He shook his head, certainly not waiting for an answer. "I concur with Izayoi. Until he gives me reason to think otherwise, I'm in support of the lordling."
And if he ever did prove to be lacking, it wouldn't be the first time Leifur disobeyed authority.
@Lucius Cypher Quick clarification question, but are the stats and proficiencies our character's or their persona's, or should they match both? So for example, if someone had a physically meek kid with a barbarian persona, would a high STR just mean the Persona they summon is strong, or would the character be surprisingly so as well? Or is it preferable that there wouldn't be a disconnect like that?
That example isn't what I'm going with, but illustrates the point.
Posted! Writing Shadowy Fellwing is kinda fun. Also edited the mention of clutchmates into housemates and am very angry for getting that wrong because I literally checked what they were before starting that post and still brainfarted, rip.
Was gonna reveal Garrock's, err, condition later down the line if you guys didn't figure it out, but considering I couldn't really think of what else to give Fellwing for her success, we'll say her arguing intrigued him enough that it allowed her to get a better look at his wing.
Damn, 'tis a very cool (and scary) revelation that will absolutely not bite us in the ass later, especially since Fellwing didn't tell anyone yet, whoop.
The disturbing fury Fellwing had seen in Garrock's gaze had likewise simmered, likewise thanks to Stargaze, and Fellwing was stunned to hear the older dragon offer her a reasonable piece of advice for once. She couldn't refute his argument. Not the fact that Skobeloff had been more effective alone, nor the fact that she likely would have, as well. She had tried again and again to rush the others, to instil in them the same sense of urgency that had found purchase in her gut, yet they'd kept lingering. Talking. Confronting - and then comforting - a drake that would likely not offer their group any valuable help. She wasn't used to this. She was used to receiving a vision, then acting accordingly on her own, with no one around her none the wiser of what was going on.
Just her and the Darkness.
Then Garrock turned to leave, and as Fellwing raised her gaze, she had to stifle a gasp. Garrock's wing, then one she'd seen bitten what felt like ages ago by now, was festering. Darkness had taken hold of it - and therefore, of the older dragon. She was the only one who saw it; the others were busy gossiping. About her? Perhaps. Drakes tended to do that.
Skobeloff returned to lead Garrock away. If she wanted to say something, this was the time. What had Skobeloff and Stargaze talked about? He didn't tell her. Her claws dug into the earth. She was still angry.
Fellwing said nothing. She turned around, and did what she should have done ages ago: she hurried, dashing off towards where her visions had guided her earlier, regardless of whether others were able or willing to follow.
I think I'm done, do let me know if edits are needed!
Alessa Bianchi
Character Summary
Name: Alessa Bianchi Aliases: Lea, Ally, Allie Age: 25 Gender: Female Birthplace: Naples, Kingdom of Italy Residence: Boston Occupation: Nurse
Appearance and Physical attributes
โฐStrengthโฑ 35
โฐConstitutionโฑ 40
โฐSizeโฑ 55
โฐDexterityโฑ 60
โฐAppearanceโฑ 55
โฐHit Pointsโฑ 9
Physical description Height: 5'4'' Weight: One should never ask a lady that question Build: Average, some definition in her arms Eyes: Brown Hair: Dark chestnut brown Skin Tone: Fair Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: A scar running across her left arm, seems to have been made by something sharp Personal Style: Classy, modest and feminine when given the choice, whatever best fits the occasion otherwise. Though she's a very clean person, she's notably not shaken by blood, dirt or grime. Saving lives can be messy, and dirty clothes can always be washed.
Sexuality: Bisexual, though unaware and closeted Relationship Status: Divorced
Personality: First impressions paint Alessa an ideal woman of her time; soft spoken and polite, dressed modestly, willing to engage in small talk and laugh at unfunny jokes to save another's face. However, the more time one spends with her, the easier it is to see that she's not quite as demure as one might expect. The first hint is her tendency to maintain eye contact to a relentless degree, particularly if a topic interests her. And while she doesn't need to be part of every decision made, she's also not afraid to share her opinion when she has one - especially pertaining to politics or medical care. She doesn't shy away from debates or disagreements, either; in fact, she relishes in them, and isn't above banter. You will not, however, ever catch her raising her voice or retorting to insults. She believes that in the battle of wits, the one to shout is the one to lose.
Alessa has dedicated her life to medicine, wishing not only to study and apply it, but be there to bring it forward in leaps, particularly when it comes to mental health. She's ambitious and stubborn, far more interested in helping people than upholding laws, rules or regulations that serve to hurt them, and she will never turn down someone needing her aid - often at the cost of her own well-being, even. She dislikes violence, even in self-defense, and is far more likely to talk and reason herself out of a difficult situation than anything else. This, despite been gifted a gun by her father's old associates. With that said, she doesn't have a death wish, and she is not one to roll over and die if push does ever come to shove again.
Habits:
Speaks very fast when agitated
Looks people in the eye when talking
Tends to talk with her hands to a distracting degree - to counteract this, she tries to purposefully keep her hands to herself as much as possible, often folded
Hobbies: Reading, jogging, swimming Greatest fear: Hurting someone in her care - e.g. a patient Likes:
Reading
Swimming
Strong coffee
Rain
Homemade food
Learning
Sewing
Debates
Dislikes:
Being talked down to
Violence
Tardiness
Alcohol
Big dogs
Lack of hygiene
Being idle
Prejudice
Cards On The Table
Skills
Accounting - 05%
Anthropology - 01%
Appraise - 05%
Archaeology - 01%
Art/Craft - 05%
Charm - 15%
Climb - 20%
Credit rating - 9%
Cthulhu Mythos - 00%
Disguise - 05%
Dodge - 65%
Drive auto - 20%
Electrical Repair - 10%
Fast Talk - 05%
Fighting (Brawl): Knives - 31%
Firearms (Handgun) - 20%
Firearms (Rifle/Shotgun) - 25%
First Aid - 70%
History - 05%
Intimidate - 15%
Jump - 20%
Language (Other): Italian - 25%
Language (Own) - 65%
Law - 05%
Library Use - 20%
Listen - 40%
Locksmith - 01%
Mechanical Repair - 10%
Medicine - 70%
Natural World - 10%
Navigate - 10%
Occult - 05%
Operate Heavy Machinery - 01%
Persuade - 55%
Pilot - 01%
Psychology - 65%
Psychoanalysis - 65%
Ride - 05%
Science: Biology - 20%
Sleight of hand - 10%
Spot Hidden - 50%
Stealth - 20%
Survival - 10%
Swim - 35%
Track - 10%
Weapons and Combat
Damage Bonus: +0 Build: +0 Dodge: 65
Weapons:
Unarmed: 25 - 5 - Damage (1d3) - Range (N/A) - Attacks (1) - Ammo (N/A) - Malfunction (N/A)
Scalpel: 31 - 6 - Damage (1d4) - Range (N/A) - Attacks (1) - Ammo (N/A) - Malfunction (N/A)
Syringe: 31 - 6 - Damage (1d4) - Range (N/A) - Attacks (1) - Ammo (N/A) - Malfunction (N/A)
What Is On Your Person:
Clothing - dress, heels, gloves, hat, undergarments, socks
Wallet with US cash, ID, small mirror, make up, notebook and pen
First aid kit - with its usual contents
Surgical tools - syringes, gauze, scalpel, etc. though she doesn't advertise them.
Medication - pain killers, relaxants, sedatives, etc. ditto the above, she should not be walking around with this after all
Jewelry - earrings and a necklace
Book on the anatomy of the human brain
Sewing kit
An old, worn postcard
Address book
Residence:
Research papers
Medical books
A stack of postcards and letters
.32 Revolver - which she has never used
Ammo for the above
Bicycle
Research papers on the topic of mental health
Spare medical supplies
Fancy Italian wine she was gifted years ago
A lot of house plants
History
What brought you to the detective agency, and why are you still there: Alessa has never fancied herself a detective, but it was the talk of unexplained bouts of madness and strange behaviour that caught her interest - both professionally, in her pursuit to understand the human mind, and personally, to perhaps finally find out what happened to her father.
Life before current day: Though Alessa was born in Naples, she has no memories of the city. She was but a toddler when her parents uprooted their family and moved across the world to the United States in search for a better life. They were faced with many new opportunities, but also many new challenges, and in the end her father ended up partaking in some less-than-legal activities to help support their new lifestyle. Growing up, Alessa was unaware of such things, and her parents liked to keep it that way. Her father's work, both the legal and illegal ones, necessitated travel, and so he was away for long periods of time. Despite that, Alessa was always her father's girl, and loved nothing more than to see him come home with gifts, stories and hugs in tow.
From a very young age, Alessa was always interested in medicine, so becoming a nurse was her third dream, after becoming a princess and then a model. By the time she was a teenager, the first two were all but forgotten. But it wasn't until a few years ago in fact, that she became interested in mental health in particular. It started with her father's sudden disappearance. He was gone for the better part of a week, and once he was finally found, he was acting strange. He claimed he'd seen a monster - and worse yet, it could still see him. It was here, in fact, with him. In his mind. It was during this time that her father's connections to organized crime came to light to her.
No doctor could make sense of what was wrong with him, and the methods they used - though widely accepted - seemed inhumane to Alessa. She watched her father receive no help, and ended up tending to him herself, to the best of her ability. Sadly, it wasn't enough. His mental deterioration was followed by a physical one, and eventually, he withered away. Alessa was overcome by intense grief and regret for her powerlessness, and decided no other patient should ever suffer what he had. She started to study the human mind intensely, challenging many a common-held belief. So ambitious and so outspoken she was in her research, that she ended up angering some big names in the field, and that, combined with lack of funding and the barriers put in place by societal expectations, made applying for medical school impossible.
But she wasn't willing to give up. She wanted to learn more, of medicine, or mental health, and was rigorous in self-study. Eventually, she ended up involved in the world her father once dealt in; organized crime. Or rather, tending to the people involved in such a life, even when no one else would treat them. She didn't condone their actions, but they cared little if she didn't have a license, and needed help besides. She worked as a back-alley doctor for a few years, though not without incident. Most notably, she once had to defend herself from a patient's unruly loved one to the point of needing to fight. What exactly happened is unknown, as she disappeared after, and refuses to speak of the incident even now.
Your belief in/encounters with the supernatural: Though Alessa has not personally encountered anything supernatural, her father used to speak of such things on his sickbed. In fact, his mental troubles began ever since he supposedly saw something not of this world. Alessa knows the things a troubled mind can conjure, but having treated her father for a long time and researched the topic at length, she isn't entirely sure everything he said was mere lunacy...
Ideology/Belief:
"It is not just the body that can fall ill; the mind can, too, and should be treated likewise."
"There might be something bigger than us out there. Whatever the case, I do not worship it."
"I should let no one else tell me what I can or cannot be."
Significant people: Her mother. Though they often argue and haven't been in touch for a while, they only have each other now. One of these days, Alessa will call her. Meaningful location: Her father's grave; she visits when she's able. Treasured possessions: Postcards from Italy, sent by her father and her relatives there.
Extras
Character Quote: "An apple a day might keep the doctor away, but nothing deters a nurse. Now let me see that injury." Theme Song: tbd Anything Else: Alessa is left-handed, but has learnt to use her right one due to necessity.
Guardian Angel Haruki
Azure Bubbles
Lurking Krog
rush99999
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Agunimon
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Majoraa
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Ohm
