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Recent Statuses

12 mos ago
Imagine using the status bar to post about your personal life, instead of using it to drop bad memes on people. Couldn't be me.
15 likes
2 yrs ago
Ya'll fuckers ain't even ready for the lore and depth behind my name - the intricate threads of nuance would destroy your puny, mortal minds. I like writing.
8 likes
2 yrs ago
Gonna dress as the whole Conservative Party. If that thing doesn't fucking count as "undead" at this point, I don't know what does.
6 likes
3 yrs ago
Somebody, please, kill me before I have to see the RPG Status Bar turn into an argument over Feminism. I don't think the Guild can handle anymore issues at present, let alone Feminism.
9 likes
4 yrs ago
Playing Alien Isolation for the first time. NOW I REMEMBER WHY I HATE HORROR GAMES!
6 likes

Bio

I resonate with this sexual icon.

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T H E K I N G D O M O F V A L E
B E A C O N A C A D E M Y
G R E A T H A L L

@Hitman@PrankFox@Jing@Zoey Boey@Rabidporcupine



In her corner, carefully blocked off from the view of much of the inhabitants of the Great Hall, Albedo began to consider her sleeping arrangements. The lack of her own bed, or anything of equivalent comfort, grated on her, she had a tolerance for lesser setups, provided they met a certain threshold. A sleeping bag on the floor did not meet that. She could not have a four poster bed or anything of sort, no, but she could take some of her Dust supply and utilise Earth Dust to sculpt a makeshift bed. With adjustments to the pillow she brought for the flight, and some skilled shaping, she could create something far more luxurious than what she currently beheld.

As the potential schematics formed within her mind, though, the sound of crying pulled her attention away, guiding her field of view along from her position, sat at the foot of her sleeping bag, to the upper class wannabes, and their newly sought objects of entertainment. Albedo half watched from her periphery, between the Faunus Briar Lance tossed to the ground, the outclassed liability with a pilfered prosthetic, and the prospective that rose to protect her. Her expression remained unchanged, throughout the conversations, and even the wink - a stoic, if slightly annoyed, side eye. If she was lucky, it would sort itself out without issue, and then she could actually start attaining some sleep.

She met the pillow at the head of her sleeping bag, content to ride out the night in lacklustre accommodation. The idea of a Dust generated bed had seemed appealing at the start, but it was a waste of high quality materials. If she had had access to some of the lesser grade materials no doubt a majority of the student body was carrying, perhaps her tune wouldn't have changed. But the sudden sound of a scuffle ensured she wouldn't have to consider the concept for much longer, as she shot up from behind her wall to watch Briar scatter into a heap on the other side of a room, and one of his rented friends take what she could only assume was a blade to the shoulder.

"What do you people think you're doing?!" Albedo shouted from across the room, as she stepped out from behind the boxes, and began to walk towards the group, casually stepping past and over the array of sleeping and half-asleep students that lay in her path. As she stepped closer, and Bren struck out at one of the other Atlesians, she stopped, placing herself on the outskirts, but between, the two sides of the conflict, as an obvious third party. "I was going to let this just play out, but some people, namely me, are trying to sleep. Trust a Faunus and its friends to escalate things too far... If you people are going to fight, take it somewhere less noisy, or I'll make sure, on the off chance any of you actually make it through Initiation, that you don't see a second year here. Got it?!"


T H E K I N G D O M O F V A L E
B E A C O N A C A D E M Y
G R E A T H A L L




In the interim between the speech and curfew, Albedo had taken to cordoning off a section of the Great Hall as her own. She ate little, compared to the mess of applicants so awed by Beacon's culinary display that she wondered if any had ever laid eyes upon a substantial meal in their lives. Her taste for Vale's unique brand of cuisine meant less to her than laying claim to private respite away from a rabble destined for failure as Huntsmen, and in her time, Albedo had experienced plenty of spreads both rivalling and surpassing the night's.

What occupied her mind instead was the Team selection of the following day. She eyed her potential classmates from a sequestered corner, secluded behind a small fortification of heavy metal boxes, stacked atop a trolley she had commandeered from one of the doddering fools that attempted to take her luggage. The seams of each box bore the marking of a remarkably clean weld, as though the metal had been masterfully fused together, and though Albedo knew, full well, that they would be nigh impossible to open without a specialist skillset and want for property damage, she was loathe to trust the school and its caretakers with such expensive materials just yet.

Nobody caught her interest, though a number earned her disdain. Faunus, show-offs, dimwits by the dozen. However the Initiation was to be conducted, she only hoped to avoid the incompetence, and the insults to the title of Huntsman, that lay before her. She could forgive a lack of experience, or a lack of talent. They had all come to learn, it was only natural that the majority be unfit for the job from the outset. But the idiots, and the Faunus - her teeth ground together involuntarily at the thought of spending four years with such wastes of resources.

In Albedo's mind, not even a school as prestigious as Beacon could make warriors out of individuals unfit for anything more than basic labour. She remembered a time her mother spoke of Professor Ozpin, and how her Team had briefly met him whilst assisting the Council with an extermination in Mountain Glenn. He had been referred to as a prodigy, and took his place as Beacon's Headmaster at an age younger than any of his predecessors; her mother had claimed that his mannerisms seemed to both fall in line, and contradict, such accomplishments, as though he unsparingly combined youthfulness with wisdom. A shame, then, that he left but a fossil from the Great War behind in his place. She had somewhat looked forward to meeting him, but more importantly, she could not help but doubt the quality of education, without a man as supposedly great as Ozpin at its helm.

With each passing minute, the people watching grew more tiresome. She glanced back to her sleeping arrangements for the evening - the hardwood floor the Great Hall, and a high quality, expensive sleeping bag, though a sleeping bag nonetheless. The makeshift wall of boxes would afford her a modicum at least of privacy, but spending the night even in the same room as so many annoyances, and criminals, left a bad taste in her mouth, and in no world would she be found sleeping in line with the rest of the student hopefuls. Albedo could only hope that the morning came swiftly, so that she might never see the majority of them again. In the meantime, she took to settling herself, and retrieved her Scroll from the pile of clothes stashed within her luggage, intent on passing the minutes reading, until the disturbances around her quieted enough for her to sleep.
I think I've got enough spite in me for modern RWBY to justify joining this.


Market District, Lugnica


"Now you look like a group of people with a goal in mind," came a voice from the side of Andromeda, female and purposeful, who, until the moment Isaiah noticed her slip through the tide of foot traffic beside them, none of the five had seen before. Without consideration for strangers, or the conversation going on in spite of her, a white haired woman in a black dress imposed herself upon the group. She smiled, and took each of them in, one by one, quickly attempting to gauge just what kind of people she had actually begun to interact with, until she subtly, though still visibly, came to an internal conclusion. "Sorry to drop in, I have been up and down this street asking people but they all either have no idea what I am looking for, or simply ignore me outright, but I saw you guys and thought--"

"Sera, please,"
followed a second voice. A red haired, older male accompanied it, pushing his way through the crowded street to bring up the rear of the woman. Compared to her, his voice was significantly rougher, and though his height appeared only a few inches taller than Isaiah, he seemed to encompass the entirety of the girl he called "Sera" in both stature and breadth. His own arrival and comparatively plain outfit quickly brought attention to the sheath at his hip - a sword, with a hilt closer to that of a rapier, though with the size of the scabbard likening it to short-sword - as well as the sword at the hip of the woman, which beheld a much more elegant and exaggerated design, decorated with a primarily blue colour scheme across the hilt and sheath, and a length that easily dwarfed the man's own. "If we're going to start asking every child in the district, we might as well save time and return to ask Wisp for the correct directions."

"We're not giving him that satisfaction, Cervantes, you know he did this on purpose!" the woman snapped, though in less of an angry, and more of a peeved tone. When she turned back to the group, her smiled readily grew back across her face, and she folded her hands behind her back. "Not to take up too much time, my name is Seraphina, and I'm trying to find an establishment known as 'Altifer's Artificing'. I was given the wrong directions, but if you have any idea where I might find the place, we would greatly appreciate it."




Common District, Lugnica


The silence surrounding the residential area the four found themselves in seemed to only intensify in response to their questioning, bickering, and confusion. Through the lack of sound and people, though, the group could focus on things that seemed specifically out of place - like the temperature. The height of the sun implied it to be approximately midday, if a not little earlier, but the heat, especially in their area, was different, odd, unlike the world they had resided within minutes before. The building density and comparatively small street intensified the already humid atmosphere, but the weather here felt as though they had stepped into the midst of a summer.

"Oi, you four!" Ryom's searching took little time, as he began down the street only to watch a man round the corner of an intersection between the close-knit homesteads. From the perspective of modern day Earth, at a glance the man appeared to be a cosplayer, dressed in what would have been an outfit made to seem like full plate armour, save for the missing helmet, revealing the worn face of an older man, with a tangle and sweat drenched brown hair, and a clean shaven face besides a dense bush of a moustache. But even by modern standards his outfit was too detailed - the armour too reflective, and at the same time too worn, with a complex gold design emblazoned upon the front, and a blue cape drawn close behind him, still in the stagnant, summer air. To his side, one hand clasped around the black leather wrap of a sword hilt, with the blade stored firmly within its sheath. The hilt incorporated a d-guard, somewhat similar to something Momiji might have expected to see on a rapier, cutlass, or sabre, but the length and thickness of the partially obscured scabbard, and the size of the grip the man held, indicated to her that this was some form of one handed short-sword, and it was most definitely a real weapon. "How'd you lot end up here? This area's off limits, by order of the Royal Army, so how in the Dragon's name did you get in?"



Market District, Lugnica


"Issat a joke, missy?" the woman retorted, her initially wary expression readily transformed into a scowl at both Miki, and the paper she held. One of her hands raised to adjust the pair of wire framed glasses that had begun to crest over her nose, behind which she glanced from the girl in front of her, to the rest of the group stood in front of her stall, and as if to prove a point, pulled a silver coin, marked with the iconography of some silhouetted figure. "I seen bills 'efore, they ain't looked like that, and you's lot certainly ain't the people who'd be carryin' 'em. Portion's three silver, show me you actually got some money to ya' name, or take ya' friends and get outta the way. Blockin' me view to the street."

Whatever language she spoke, all five of the individuals she directed the words towards understand what she said, clearly in spite of her obvious foreign nature, though the language that covered her stall, and the small boards in front of the her various products, still remained unreadable. One of her two evidently canine ears, which under ordinary circumstances would have been expected to sit atop the head of a wolf, twitched in response to an insect which flew beside it, all the while her eyes remained watching the group, and the coin she produced quickly vanished again into an upper pocket. At a detailed look, her stall was a majority fruit and vegetable products, all of which were recognisable to the group. Besides a small basket of strawberries, and another of lemons, the rest of the products were more simplistic, consisting of apples, potatoes, and other standard, less luxurious produce. For the height of the sun, and the fullness of her stall, she seemed to have been having a slow day of trade.

As the group conversed between themselves, their discussion, attitude, and sense of dress seemed to attract some attention. Nothing serious, and in no way similar to a crowd of any kind, but to a person like Isaiah, he could easily feel eyes upon them, if only a few pairs. People were looking at them, some intrigued and others suspicious, mostly out of nearby merchants to the woman Miki had approached, but one or two passersby appeared to also have had their gazes drawn. For Ada, the feeling of being watched only increased, multiplied by the ever-present sensation that had greeted her upon arrival, and had not dulled a single second since. They were alien to the area, and that out-of-place feeling only grew with every passing moment.

And we're off to the races. This first post is to give you guys some chance to acquaint yourselves both with each other and your immediate surroundings, before the important events start happening around and to you all.

Two key things to mention, are the 0th posts for both the OOC and Character sections of the thread. In the OOC, you'll find the Arc Dossier, which will contain a regularly updated list of things that have happened, and some important details that crop up over the story, just to consolidate all the information. In the character tab there is the NPC Catalogue, which will contain small overviews of all the NPC you come across, who will be added as and when a player character runs into them for the first time, and updated as information about them is revealed.




The Return By Death group, in a single instant, have all been transported to a brand new world, with no apparent reason or circumstance as to why or how. The only thing that stood out about the transportation were two words, "I'm sorry", ingrained deep in their heads, as though it had been whispered to them at they shifted from Earth to whatever place they have now ended up in.

Unlike every other member of the group, Ada Taliar felt a strange presence, as though she were being watched and looked over by somebody standing directing behind and over her, though no person or entity exists nearby to create such an effect.




"I'm sorry."

Two words, uttered at the foot of a spiralling stone tower, stretched beyond the black of a starless sky and the white of the moisture-less clouds, piercing the heavens and further beyond in a single, solid column. Spanning out and around in every direction, for as far as could be seen both possibly and impossibly, an endless, rolling grassland, of manufactured blades of greenery, and the facade of dirt from which each sprouted, wrapped around the plane of the world, encompassing it, the tower, and the words, simultaneously. The start and the end of everything.

So too were they the last and first words ever heard by nine people. Nine strangers, humans in every right, living and breathing, venturing forth in their lives impeded by nothing more than human inconveniences and obstacles. Stopped in their paths by the trifles of being human, and allowed to walk on again by their same measure. But for one moment, their obstacle wasn't human. Or alien. For a moment, there was no obstacle at all. Just the words. Two words, uttered by a lonely woman, staring into a pitch black sky, penetrated at a single point by a towering column of stone.

"I'm sorry."

In the gap between stepping through an open door, crossing into a shadow, closing and reopening one's eyes, the world vanished, and reappeared again, almost as instantly as it had left. A moment of transition between one moment and another - a split second of darkness accompanying a blink. But in it, the entire world changed, without feeling or sensation. No pain, or nausea, or sudden discomfort. Nine completely normal humans, disappeared from one world, and deposited, exactly as they were, in another. Not through death, as many a tale had led them to believe; no portals, no summoning rituals, and no gods or demons. Only two words that followed them into their new world.

"I'm sorry."




Graham Stone, Miki Teruko, Andromeda Hardt, Ada Taliar, and Isaiah Ayaan all appeared in the middle of a street, bustling and filled with people. Dozens, potentially hundreds of people filled their eyes, newly blinded by the harsh light of the midday sun that glared down at the expanse of paved stone they now stood upon, unimpeded by trees or tall buildings. The street itself appeared to be some kind of merchant district - stalls and stores lined the buildings on either side of them, and a steady stream of people representing most every walk of life filtered past, occasionally broken by a horse drawn cart that rolled through the centre of the road.

The telltale signs of some kind of "fantasy world" were recognisable at their most most subtle, from merely just a cursory glance across the scene before them. The makes of clothes were markedly of older fashion, even between the suits and dresses of the visibly upper class, and the varying market stalls that spanned the busy road held wears both familiar and alien, and bore signs recognisable as language, but none any of the five could read or decipher. The architecture itself, too, was recognisably medieval, though with hints of modernism that didn't quite match up to any existing cities of Earth history. Most damning, though, were the plethora of races that numbered among the passersby. Not all were human, and though the numbers of those inhuman were significantly dwarfed by the peoples the group were familiar with, an easily identifiable number possessed fur, and ears, and tails, and horns, and any number of different combination of animalistic traits.

The five of them had simply appeared there, just off to the side of the main roadway, side by side, staring blankly into the new world they appeared in, taking in, for even just a brief moment, the sudden shift that had transpired. In the midst of coming to terms with everything, a feeling crept into Ada's back and neck - the feeling of being watched, and of having a person unseen standing directly over her, looking down from above, but casting no shadow upon her, and possessing no body for her to see.






Ryom Sung-Tae, Michael Klein, Aaron Yang, and Momiji Shirogane, instead, all appeared in an abandoned street. A place significantly different to their modern world, with distinctively medieval in design and architecture, but equally recognisable features identifying the area as a commoner district. Tall buildings with wooden windows, pulled closed against the elements, indicative of housing stacked atop one another in a similar to apartments, and roads paved but unkempt, marked with damage and built up dirt.

The place they had appeared in, though, was silent, almost eerily so. Not a single person was in sight, and not a single sound reached their ears. No system shock, no fantasy races or magic presented to them as one might have expected. The buildings around them seemed like homes rather than businesses, but nobody roamed the streets and looked out from their windows, even in the middle of the day, the sun shining high and unrestrained in the sky. No birds, no stray cats or dogs, and no people. Just the four of them, side by side on a street in a city in a world they could not recognise as their own, completely alone aside their fellow transported humans.

@vancexentan Currently we're waiting on a couple of sheets, which should both be done come tomorrow. After that, the IC won't be far behind.
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