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yoshua171 male Member

The Loremaster

STATUS: Just...drifting along. 3 yrs ago
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3 yrs ago
Current Just...drifting along.
5 yrs ago
The Truest and Most Ultimate Showdown has beguneth. Goofykins V.S. SpongeByrne!
1 like
5 yrs ago
Does anyone know where I can figure out how to unfabricate memories? Asking for a friend.
2 likes
6 yrs ago
Check out our new and improved thread. Just an interest check for now, but oh boy is there so much more to come! roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
7 yrs ago
Oh Bleach RP oh Bleach RP where art thou oh quality Bleach RP. Why hast thou forsaken thee? Seriously though, WHY!?!
3 likes

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Most Recent Posts

In Capes of Denver: A Worm RP → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
FLASHBACK
Unseen Ma(e)chinations

Collab With: @ProPro and @yoshua171

In ⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱ → 6 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay

Arc II - Day 1 - 1:23AM
A @yoshua171 and @Tuujaimaa Collab

“Two hundred twenty five thousand beakers of beer on the wall!” A man’s voice sang with a trill as he stood in the center of his lab and let his hands dance through the air like some maniac conductor. Throughout the room vis danced through the air and so too did a vast number of implements fly about. A number of them would--on occasion--form into small golems to carry out a task or two before falling apart once more. On the floor a number of what appeared to be gremlin and imp-like creatures frolicked about while equally small fae entities flitted on gossamer wings, cowering away from the man.

However, the harmony of his work found itself disrupted as a powerful draw of vis tugged at something outside of his lab. After all, nothing--absolutely nothing--could touch the vis inside his lab. It was--simply put--warded too well for all that. Not to mention all the space-time fuckery. It’d taken such a long time to stop it from destabilizing and ruining all of his wonderful shelves.

Oh those first dozen shelves had been special. How he missed them.

What was he on about? Ah, yes, the vis. Walking from the center of his room he almost trampled several small licenti workers as he made his way to a panel of what appeared to be prismatic glass. Pressing a finger to the very top edge of the surface, he drew it down and then focused vis into the substance. Swiftly, sigils lit up over the surface, casting rays of light deeper into the material.

After a brief liaison with his reflection, the substance bent inwards on itself and then there was a distortion of the material and everything around it. Looking at the distortion would, for someone normal--nay, almost anyone--be quite disorienting, perhaps even to the point of retching. However, Reates walked forwards and stepped through it as if it were a door...

… because it was a door. obviously. ”I really ought to fix the illusion on that, it’s gotten quite out of hand,” he mused to himself as he exited the portal where it led into the closed-off office portion of his classroom. On the wall behind him was what appeared to be a perfectly normal mirror...

... because it was a perfectly normal mirror.

Reates carried on out of his office and into the classroom proper. Immediately he knew something was off. Wrong.

He fixed the position of a pink eraser on his desk and sighed with relief.

“Much better.”

That taken care of, he turned around and began heading back into his office. All was well in the worl--....

Interrupting his thoughts, Reates detected a culmination of vis--though far off--so incomprehensible that for several seconds he forgot to breathe.

Luckily, he did not also forget to teleport onto the roof of the university. He found that he was not high up enough and so he shifted locations again, a harsh displacement of air resounding as he appeared on top of the tallest building in Ominar. A number of butterflies flitted off of his form before settling once more and disappearing as they blended in completely with his clothes.

Eyes narrowing, Reates did something that he endeavored to avoid doing outside of the safety of his lab: he removed his glasses. Green eyes taking on a far more pronounced glow, Reates gasped quietly as he saw the veritable tide of vis being pulled away from Ominar and over the English Channel.

Casting his gaze out further and setting his jaw, he braced himself, for what met his gaze was something astounding. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen so much energy packed into such a small space. At least not in Medius or Torqueo. At least not by anything resembling a mortal. Not by anything resembling normal and even then, for Aberrations seldom became so bloated with power.

A small frown creasing his brow as he tried to work out what was happening, Reates cast a hand out and weaved patterns with his fingers. Not a second passed before a number of spell matrices had formed and then swiftly began expanding from his hand to envelop a sphere around him. Glowing sigils manifested in the wind and then deformed and spread into more complex patterns. Two of the spheres continued to expand and as they did the mage took a deep breath and began latching onto any surrounding vis he could.

Keeping a close eye on the building pressure of the frenetic vis, even despite the fact that it was tens of miles away, Reates constructed a barrier and then, subsequently created another, which he moved into a phase state. Rapidly calculating the distance he sent it to ZUMA and had it tap into a number of the magic batteries of the university, drawing from the crystals to bolster it and allow the mage to expand it to full size. The final set of matrices expanded, his fingers weaving in intricate patterns to arrange and control the numerous matrices he now held.

Once the two barriers were stable and no longer required a steady flow of vis to remain as such, the mage tapped into the other two pieces of spellwork and let them filter some of the stimuli from his perception for him. Several minutes passed.

“Bloody Hell,” he exclaimed.

Seconds after he could see nothing but white as the entire horizon was set aflame, white light pouring from a source very few could see at all. Reates, only able to keep his wits about him due to the spells he’d arranged, swallowed hard and mentally reached out for his shields. Immediately he pumped 1/10th of his vis into each and then held fast.

He’d done the calculations and could literally see the air being displaced by the explosion of vis as it crossed the Channel.

Finally giving in, Reates let a smile cross his lips as the force hit the coast. He heard glass shatter and reacted fast enough to shield himself from the sound as well.

He began laughing as the force washed over his shield and then--moments later--the shield over ZUMA. The sheer amount of vis carried by the shockwave alone would recharge his crystals, feed Abstractis, and was suffusing his body with an intense warmth, much like a good brandy.

Taking advantage of the vis washing over the city another twelve matrices sprung out from his body. Sigils manifested in the air in diagrams constricting air into specific patterns. The vis began flowing into the sigil matrices and as they did he let his right hand grip Lyura’s Star. A slight distortion in the air in the very center of each sigil enclosure formed. He guided the vis through the tiny apertures and into the massive sets of magical batteries he’d hidden about the school grounds--not to mention beneath his classroom and in his lab proper.

As they did so he let both shields go--they were no longer necessary--and snapped his fingers. A cellphone appeared in his hands, Nabri’s number already dialed. Ah, speed dial was a wonderful thing--though perhaps not so wonderful as all those poor ruined desks. No, not desks. They’d been shelves? Yes, shelves, definitely.

The phone was still ringing. However, right before it picked up he hung up and flared his vis in a literal spire upwards from his position on the roof of the huge skyscraper. It lasted for a fleeting five seconds before disappearing entirely. He waited a three count.

“One...two…”

The night was young for Nabriales Taeryn. He'd held a little gathering at one of his various residences, inviting anyone that he deemed particularly noteworthy or attractive, and as was typically the case with his parties in private places it quickly turned from an intimate gathering to an outright orgy. Precursor Descendants were known for their legendary beauty--they were almost akin to gods and goddesses in the flesh, the purest expression of divinity that the human form could possibly capture. The ugliest and most foul of the Precursors was still leagues ahead of the most beautiful human in the universe. Nabriales, growing up exclusively among his kind, had never appreciated that aspect of his heritage until he had been introduced to his wayward kin. It wasn't that they were ugly--far from it--but they simply lacked something that he had always taken for granted. There was no longer that spark of otherworldly mystique, that sensation of awe and bliss building up in the chest, like when viewing a perfect natural vista for the first time.

Indeed, Nabriales had never really gotten to have that experience among his peers either--for he was quite considerably the most beautiful among the Precursor Descendants he'd met. Most normal humans could fall head-over-heels in love with him at the merest glance. Those who could be sexually attracted to him were--almost without fail--and even those who could not took the time to reconsider their stance. He had only further enhanced his natural beauty over the years with various potions and applications of magic, understanding that the allure he could command was just as potent a tool as any knife in the shadows or scandalous secret. It had, truth be told, been key to his arrival at the illustrious position that he found himself in within Ominar. All of the partygoers fawned over him like lovesick puppies (though with considerably more wits and propriety), and through his expensive alcohol and peerless alchemy he helped redirect that lust and awe into the throng of revelers.

He made no effort to either include or exclude any particular race at his little gatherings. Licentia, Prae, Humans--all welcome, if they had the temperament and the interest. The rich mingled with the poor, from businessmen who had visited his store to get that competitive edge to the delivery boys who wanted to charm extra money from their clients. Prostitutes and Lords writhed together across the polished marble flooring, the status of their birth and occupation forgotten--the sexual energy in the room removing from them their petty preconceptions and inhibitions. The focus required to adequately please even a single lover was intense, but to direct an entire crowd in the correct way was downright consuming. So engrossed in his actions was he that Nabriales failed to notice the event about to unfold outside of his little sanctuary. It was only when the intoxicating effects of his potions waned--first for the Prae, then the Licentia, and finally the Humans--that his focus broke and he looked outside of the window to see what was happening.

The immensity of the vis being pulled from Ominar across the ocean was... Legendary. He had never encountered such a feat before, and as he looked more closely to vaguely begin to attempt to discern its purpose he realised that he didn't particularly need to know anything about its purpose--whatever it was, it was bad. He quickly called the room to attention, offering them more potions, and attempted to teleport himself to the top of the building to get a better look. He was met with disappointment as his spell failed, having not provided a sufficient amount of vis, and composed himself briefly before giving it the extra kick it needed in order for him to successfully move him through space to the roof. Though his Sight was not exactly phenomenal, he could see clearly enough that the magic being intoned was phenomenally destructive in nature, and also that it was dangerously close to completion. He scrambled to activate the magical wards engraved into the walls of the penthouse below him, enough to ensure that it wouldn't feel any of the blast, before drawing a more complex spell matrix in the air to activate Victorious Secret's natural defences. Even in the presence of the ambient vis being drawn away, the rune was easy to conjure after he had adjusted for the extra vis required--and he could see from the top of the building that the defences had activated.

Then, everything was a blinding flash of white. Despite the fact that looking directly at the blast would have surely temporarily blinded the average human, the vis within Nabri's eyes was enough to shield him from any damage--though the fact that he could see the vis made it even more disorienting than it would ordinarily have been. He felt the pulse of energy ripple through the air before he felt any of the force of the incoming explosion, and scrambled to summon a lime green bottle of potion to his hand and chug it as quickly as he could before the force proper blew past him. Thanks to the instantaneous effects of the potion his balance was completely unaffected, but he very viscerally felt the force and the heat wash over him and remarked that with the potion it felt eerily similar to some combination of extreme sport and being in a sauna. He used his newfound stability to stabilise a decent chunk of the vis-infused explosion and begun the complex process of crystallising it, manoeuvring it into an orderly fashion so that he could ensure it was adequately studied. He was very skilled with the creation of vis crystals (though, shamefully, not even beginning to encroach upon the skill of his sister), but he found the process in this particular instance remarkably taxing--it was like working with molten glass, burning to the touch and suffused with a rage the likes of which he'd only ever had cause to imagine. As he completed the process, he took a deep breath in and admired the small white crystal that he'd created.

In that moment, he felt deep in his soul that his phone was ringing. Despite being as naked as the day he was born, and his phone being nowhere in sight, he knew it was ringing--and he knew exactly who was calling him. Indeed, as a trail of vis surged into the sky from one of the skyscrapers in the city his suspicions were confirmed, and he waited for a count of two before teleporting directly to its location.

“...thr--....”
"--ee!"

He chimed in, chipper as ever, as he appeared exactly on cue. He wouldn't have called it a ritual per se between him and Reates, but there was always an odd sort of synchronicity between them whenever they managed to get together. Of course, it was normally in far less foreboding circumstances than these, but there was always something odd happening when they had cause to meet--that was simply the way of things, for them.

"So... What the fuck was that?" he asked, pointing into the distance where the explosion had begun. He figured that if either of them were more equipped to answer that question it would be Reates. Then, he immediately shivered, remembering that it was fairly cold and he was butt naked. With a thoughtful nod, he summoned a potion that looked almost like bottled fire and drunk half of it, his skin lighting up a rosy red as warmth flooded his body. Then, he offered the vial to Reates, giving him a look that very plainly said: "Yes, this is obviously the way to fix being cold when naked and outside. What else would you do?"

”Better question. Why was that,” he answered as if it were the most obvious thing imaginable. So obvious in fact that he didn’t even turn to look upon Nabri, his gaze still locked on the unnaturally bright night sky.

”From what I can tell it certainly weren’t a proper bomb. No notable aircraft on the skyline nor human make-up. Just vis, loads and loads of vis.” He shook his head and closed his eyes, bringing his glasses back up to rest upon his nose and behind his ears.

He opened his eyes and took a step back onto thin air, nearly plummeting off the roof, or rather...he had stepped entirely off the roof, but magic and quick wits had saved him. ”Ah. Well, ye’d think the more startling thing to see were the explosion, but Nabri...you’re positively glowing tonight.” Reates grinned, ”Are you tryin’ a new potion regimen?”

His gaze gravitated to the potion in the Precursor’s hand and his eyes lit up--metaphorically, seeing as his eyes already glow...all the time. Obviously. ”Ah, that’d be the regimen then,” he said, flicking his wrist in a practiced motion. The potion was promptly drawn across the space between them by a single thin tendril of vis attached to Reates’ wrist. As he caught the bottle and began to down the rest of its contents the vis dispersed as quickly as it had formed.

Once it was drained, Reates held it at length from his face and squinted into it as if trying to see if there were any remaining contents...despite it being clear. ”Well, now I’m just bloody warm,” he said with the briefest of mock frowns, a smile still glittering in his eyes. He tossed the vial back to Nabri and cast his gaze back at the sky. ”Well. I know this can’t’ve been a licentia. One this powerful would’ve been in the news before, not to mention on the boards for IHO,” he stated rather matter of factly.

Absently he made a petting motion on the air beside him, falling silent as he did. About thirty awkward seconds of complete silence passed before a cat made entirely of crystal hopped up onto the top of the building, walked onto an invisible platform of vis, and sat in exactly the correct position for Reates’ hand to begin petting it.

Reates continued talking, ”Probably not a prae either, given that it looks like the explosion was centered on one o’ their embassies.” He cast a sidelong glance at Nabri, ”Any ideas? Questions? Comments? Concerns? Quaffles?” He nodded to himself as if Nabri had responded and snapped his finger, conjuring his favorite brandy and--inexplicably--something from one of Nabri’s glorious shelves. He took a sip and then another.

It was good. Tad hot though. Was his mouth literally on fire? No, it was fine.

Everything was fine.

Actually, his mouth was on fire. Brandy did not interact very well with that particular potion--by coincidence or design?--and the sensation Reates was feeling was essentially acid reflux, but if he were a dragon.

Reates pondered, as he casually breathed fire from his nostrils and mouth, was he a dragon?

“No.” Nabri mentally interjected, reminding him that come-to-the-lab-dressed-as-a-dragon day was Wednesday. Sometimes.

"Mmm. I've never seen ambient vis pulled to a location on that scale or with that intensity before--especially not as a method of spellcraft!" Nabri responded after mulling over Reates' comments. He held out his palm and presented the crystallised vis from the shockwave that reached Ominar, a twinkling fragment of milky opaque whiteness, interspersed with faint lines of red. Though he had made the crystal, he could not really glean anything of particular value from it--such things were, regrettably, not his specialty. That was why he had Reates!

"... an Exeo was visiting Solhavre tonight, right? I'm sure I read that somewhere..." Nabri mused, furrowing his brow and summoning his phone--smirking as he saw the missed call from Reates--before flicking through several articles at once and finding mention of the Exeo's visit. He pointed the screen vaguely in Reates' direction while he turned towards the smoking ruins of the former city, his expression hardening in a moment of revelation.

"Assassination?" he offered, a tentative theory to ponder while Reates delved into the magic. He couldn't offer anything that Reates simply couldn't do better when it came to the in-depth analysis of vis usage, but his social contacts were far more developed--and those were avenues that needed to be explored to piece together what had just happened. His fingers became a flurry of activity, tapping to and fro along keys, and then a quick call was made and Nabri held the phone out, pressing the speakerphone button, and waiting for a couple of seconds as the call connected and was promptly answered.

"Combien de morts?" How many dead?
"Cent cinquante mille. Toutes les personnes." 150,000. Everyone.
"Merci." My condolences.
Click.

Nabri let a moment of silence hang in the air--a profound silence, shared only between the two of them, atop the skyscraper. This far up, the sound of the city below was muted--only the faint blare of sirens and the whipping of the wind reached them as the emergency authorities rushed to the outskirts of the city where the destruction was the worst. Then, a couple of vibrations in rapid succession, and Nabriales confirmed his theory of assassination with a few simple words across the screen. As he read them, he built up the magic in the tips of his fingers and the same rosy glow that flushed his cheeks spread through into his horns, angry red sparkles and crackles spilling forth from the cracks as the phone in his hands begun to melt and was set aflame. He let it drop from the edge of the building and turned back to Reates.

No words, then. He had heard the phone call. He knew what had happened.

Where they went to research the magic was up to him.

Any joy had drained from the mage’s face as the death toll was uttered over the phone.
Reates took another swig of brandy, despite the literal fire in his mouth. He let out a long breath and it would’ve appeared a somber gesture, were he not breathing fire. Frowning, the mage snapped his fingers and the interaction ceased, returning his breath to a more mundane state.

He could feel Nabriales looking to him for a bit of direction. “This does not bode well,” he said, the dragon gone, though there was a quiet sort of anger roiling beneath the surface. It was an emotion that even Nabri--one of the man’s closest associates and even friends--would never have seen him display in truth. “We’ll go to one of your labs,” he said blandly, his accent less thick than usual. His characteristic mirth having dropped entirely away. His green eyes danced with fire and an aura of feral vis coruscated off of him. Stepping back onto the skyscraper, rather than hanging in thin air, Reates spared Nabri one glance and then swiped his hand across the air horizontally. There was a blinding flash of light and vis and he was gone.

They would reconvene at the lab. It appeared they had an assassin to identify.
In One Piece: New Horizons! → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Lilliana Merrycure

She had a dream that there was a big clock and the clock was made of tons of gears all of different sizes. Some of the gears had circuits running through them. Some of the gears were made of still living bone. Strangely, some of them smelled of cereal, and others of putrid, far too strong, alcohol. There was one made entirely of weirdly stiff black cloth...it reminded her of something scruffy. There were furry gears and talking gears, and gears that danced and sang or swam or ran. So many gears, they were all amazing and beautiful, but...but the clock didn't work.

The clock didn't work.

Lilliana woke up, shooting up out of bed like some kind of rocket propelled lady. B-MO reacted just as fast, wrapping her body in metal before she struck the wall of her cannon at high speed. Eyes wide in the utter darkness of B-MO's embrace, Lilliana oriented herself. Though unaware there had been a party, she had slept through one. She was glad she'd gabbed herself with one of her special syringes. She was glad that she was waking up, because it meant they'd made it through Reverse Mountain okay.

That was a relief.

She relaxed, B-MO retracting, and stood up after having fallen to the ground in a ball of bio-metal. There was a bowl of cereal at her table and boy was she hungry. Swiftly she took it up, poured some milk that she could tell her son had left her, and then ate happily. It tasted like the success of a good invention and the unraveling of an amazingly intricate and beautiful mystery.

She loved it and she finished eating it far too soon. Minutes later she threw open the door of her room with gusto--B-MO having grabbed her two packs and looped them over her--before dashing through the boat's lower deck and ascending into the sky of the open sea. She pulled in the smell of the sea and stretched with a big smile.

"The Grandline!" She exclaimed with excitement, before her eyes settled on the approaching island. She tilted her head and then a fey gleam entered her gaze. B-MO shuddered, its current form that of two segmented metallic wings. She was wondering if there was anything fun to take apart in that big Jolly Roger'd castle. Tearing her eyes a way she took stock of the crew. Everyone seemed well. Good. However, as she looked about she noticed something strange.

There was a ship following them. OH, it was the ship from Reverse Mountain, the one they'd almost collided with. Huh. Well that was interesting, especially since it was clearly another pirate crew. Lilliana was suddenly very curious as to what had happened while she was out.
In Yoshua's Character Storage Mark VII → 6 yrs ago Forum: Character Sheets
Seicho, Ankou


In Naruto: The New World [High-Casual] → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
This thread is hilarious. Even if I never get time to join I hope it survives so I can read this shit xD

You guys are wild smh

This following the stuff from Savato and Odin was gold btw.
In The Prophecy → 6 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
I think a wind may very well have caught my sails too, to be entirely honest. I had to move recently (from Florida to Wisconsin) due to extenuating circumstances. It's thrown off my usual posting schedules for every RP I'm in (and I wasn't consistent enough with this one to begin with...sadly). I've been trying to juggle a lot for awhile and I love this world and I love the players in it--ya'll are seriously some fantastic writers. I am often awed by your skill and talent and how you've honed it. It's been a treat even if I haven't gotten to interact directly with most of you ICly (through no real fault of your own or anyone as far as I am concerned).

My thoughts are summed up thusly:

I don't entirely want to leave, but I think I need to have a leave of absence. I feel bad about it because Dark Jack even has a character tied up with I'on. So what I may do is continue that and plan an exit for I'on soon. I don't like leaving loose ends behind and I don't like my characters being misrepresented--though my visions of I'on are...odd at this point, he's become muddled in my mind over the years.

I think I would definitely rejoin at some point if things continue on, but I think I'd do so with a new character and a new vision for said character. I think when I made I'on all those years ago that I was intent on stuffing too much into one person without really considering their characterization enough (and whether it would be more or less enjoyable for me to play them).

So yeah. I will be around, I think I may even hang around the discord for now, but I'm gonna more or less bow out of things. Dark Jack, maybe PM me somewhere and we can figure out a track that lets I'on and Nimbus/Maledai separate to free up that plan for you. I don't want to leave you hanging as I'm sure I already have (sorry again about that, my life is kicking my ass as it hasn't in awhile). Anywho, you guys are great, this is entirely on me, not anyone else, and I will see you around!

Ciao for now ^^;
In Capes of Denver: A Worm RP → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Chatterbox

Surveying the room despite his own nervousness, Drake noted the displeasure of his teammates. Whimsy didn't appear to be in good shape...and yet Broker asked her to dispose of what was--...no. He refused to think of them as the same. He gritted his teeth and then took another drink. He absorbed their employer's explanations, both of powers and reasoning. There was more to it. That description was too brief. No power was that damned simple and without hang-ups.

Every power had weaknesses...and every power had underlying mechanics, or he supposed that whatever gave them those powers had such. He shuddered, the idea of some alien passenger interacting with his mind and body to fascilitate his power giving him the creeps. Of course, on another level he was grateful to it. The thing had changed his life and even with his trigger event being what it was, he felt better off than he had been before.

Finishing his drink--probably far too quickly given its alcohol content--Drake set it aside and stepped out from the counter, his gaze briefly firing between Broker, Headhunter, and Heartless. He moved across the room and turned a seat towards the situation. His hands were still shaking, but he clasped them before him, crossing one ankle over the other as he stared at them from where he sat, head tilted slightly. He considered the dinosaur girl and the thoughts that came to mind were simple, logical.

She had been a threat, a fair bit unpredictable. He agreed, Heartless should have simply tased her, but the reality was he hadn't. To go about trying to save her afterwards. It was an act of emotion. One of guilt or compassion perhaps. His gaze narrowed and focused in on Heartless. "Counter to your title, you've got quite the streak of empathy, Heartless" he said the name with utter disdain. His power was tuned all the way down, not affecting any of the members of the team and certainly not Broker--who he figured would be immune anyways, a shame. "I hope you don't intend to make a habit of helping the enemy. I only have orders to not use my power on members of the team. Allies, that is. If you endanger us or our mission, you're not an ally. Correct me if I'm wrong boss." All he really needed was a reason after all. A reason and assurance he would not be rendered brain dead or worse due to use of his power on Heartless. Of course, there was a chance that Broker would say he was wrong to set a precedence. A precedent that would allow the man to handle Heartless himself.

It meant that either either response Broker gave might serve to drive fear into Heartless and fear was control. It as the mind killer and oh how he loved laying the psyche to rest. He smiled faintly at the thought.

'How pleasant.'
In Capes of Denver: A Worm RP → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Chatterbox

He spent much of the time on the way back in something of a daze and though it did not last terribly long, it was still frustrating. Luckily, by the time they had returned to base, he felt more himself, having recovered both from the exposure to his own power and from taking the invisible strikes. He was still sore though. Sore and unhappy.

Following the others in—and giving his duplicate a wide berth—he was somewhat relieved, though also confused, when the clone's voice had no effect on him...or apparently the others. The only difference was Broker's presence. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing...for a time.

As Heartless finished, he glanced to the bar and—though he too wanted a drink, he didn't trust the fellow to make him one properly. Instead, he made his way over and began making a relatively elaborate mixed drink. As he did so, he spoke, power off, but tone clear to carry to them all.

"I expected the worst from the very beginning. It's why I was so careful. Honestly, the rest of you should learn to accept that there will always be complications." He spilled a bit of wine and it was only then that he realized his hands were shaking. He pressed on, acting as if nothing had happened.

"Regardless, it was a mess. The Wards showed up. I don't know if they were tipped off and this was a test or if it was entirely unrelated, but regardless it was...not ideal. By the by, as you can see we still brought back what you required. What I think might be more pressing is..." he trailed off, finishing the drink and setting it on the counter, his eyes on Broker. Before he spoke again he took a long swig and swallowed, letting the liquid courage begin to ease his nerves.

"You interact with powers somehow," he said matter-of-factly. He was nervous, he was tired, but he was also curious. He found he couldn't hold the gaze and so looked down at his glass.

He considered how coldly the man had simply murdered the clones. If he hadn't already been somewhat desensitized by the events of the day, he'd be reeling. Why had he shot the clone of Sophia? He understood that a second one of her existence could cause problems, but still...that was. He took another drink. "I talked about it with Headhunter, but I think the others need to know the distinct feel of my power. You can nullify it afterwards I figure. Since you did so with the clone. I think it may help with identifying other troublesome masters in the future, but that's...that's less important right now." He glanced at the others, falling silent for a long moment.

Eventually he looked to Broker and spoke, "I'd like to know what we're actually doing here." He then looked away and fell silent. He didn't like this.
Evelyn Chambers – Tulpa

She didn't deserve the pay, she didn't deserve to be pardoned of her mistakes. This wasn't right. How could they stand by and just let them off for screwing things up so badly? Even with the tears falling already, her face screwed up a little—though the expression was hidden. Mask in hand, she decided to put it back on.

When they were dismissed she had almost made it out when she heard her name. Stopping in place—her being the last one out of the room—she found herself completely frozen as the Director's words slammed into her like a truck. Steadying herself with a hand on the doorframe, terror looming just like the 'shadow' of silvery light that had enshroaded Director Kens. She couldn't see it with her back turned, but she could feel it. She knew it was there, but was too shocked and terrified to banish it.

Hardness (bone), muscle(flex, stretch, strength, adaptability)—

"No," she whispered, but it didn't stop.

—fat(energy storage, cushion, soft, deformable), nerves(electricity, chemical impulse, fragility)— "NO!" She shouted, before falling abruptly silent, stunned by her own loudness. The 'shadow's' silver visage fled backwards through a wall and disappeared, but she could still hear it rattling off material information in her mind as it moved further and further away. She commanded it go upwards till it was in the air, where it had limited materials to analyze. She made it stay there and then, around the twisted knot of dread in her gut, she spoke.

Her voice came out quiet, but audible, "S-sorry. I...I'll try," she swallowed hard and didn't turn back to look at the Director. Her fingers were bent into claws where she was gripping the doorframe.

After a few moments she managed to move and when she did so she ran and didn't stop. Only once she nearly got to the exit did someone stop her and tell her she was still in costume. She'd somehow forgotten...despite the mask. Despite the fit of the clothes. Letting the woman lead her to a changing room, Evelyn waited and took the change of clothes. The woman, gently, suggested she shower. Evelyn couldn't work up the nerve or the will to say no so she disrobed and got in.

She could barely feel the water, instead she was more aware of whenever the 'shadow' of light moved faintly to try and return to her. She stopped it every time...and recoiled whenever she had to. Several times she almost slipped and hurt herself.

Once she had finished cleaning and dressing—the actions methodical and automatic, her mind on autopilot—she emerged to find that the woman had arranged a ride for her. There were tears in her eyes again at the kindness, but she couldn't thank her. Couldn't speak, because if she did it meant thinking...and thinking meant.

No.

No. No. No. No.

She wrapped her arms around herself in the backseat. For a few minutes the driver tried to make idle conversation, but eventually they decided to just turn some music on and hum quietly. It was only when they arrived at her house and Evelyn got out of the car that she realized she'd gotten a ride from them before. She realized that normally they were friendly despite her only been 17 and the man being much older. It was like talking to her grandpa, she remembered.

She felt a brief guilt, that then turned crushing. She blinked, now staring at the door of her house. She was about to knock, then remembered she had a key, but couldn't get it out, her hands clumsy.

The 'shadow' moved. She froze. After two minutes, frozen there, wrestling with her emotions...and her power. Her terrible, terrible power.

The door opened. It was her mom and before she could try to move or say anything, she was in a hug. Before she could register that, they moved to the couch and she suddenly realized she was crying. Again.

Crying again.

Stupid. Weak. Useless.

She could smell her mom's perfume...and her dad's cologne.

The thoughts drifted away, she felt detached from the warmth and the love, but also wrapped in it. Almost smothered, but it was good.

They wouldn't talk about what happened that day. They'd talk when she was ready. She wouldn't realize she'd fallen asleep in her mother's embrace until she woke in her own bed, feeling confused, but comfortable.

She'd have her favorite breakfast that day and ice cream...and just about anything she asked for. Normally her parents were less doting, but they knew what to do when she was sick or upset. She loved them for it.

Especially now, even when she felt so numb and useless and terrible. Even with the storm of emotions and turbulent deprecation in her mind, they gave her warmth and love...and she could even feel some of it.

Hopefully it would be enough.

The silver light, its form a thin veil over her house, said otherwise.
In Capes of Denver: A Worm RP → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Chatterbox

Headhunter's response was novel and he nodded in acknowledgement of it. However, he just couldn't break his vigil on his duplicate. He knew part of that was the ramping effect of the aggravating imbecil's power, but still he had to keep an eye on him. Then, a thought occured to him. Making sure he was in full sight of the team—which was very easy given everyone's position—he took both hands to part of his costume's quality fabric...and violently tore it in a vertical direction. Then there was a sharp pain in his arm as a wound opened up. He gasped and used the cloth he'd torn off to wrap the wound. Just as he finished and was about to act, he felt Sophia's grip on him vanish. Head snapping to the side he saw her collapse to the ground. He moved to help, concern flashing over his features, followed swiftly by pain against the side of his skull.

"Agh!" He saw stars and everything went fuzzy except the sharp throbbing pain in his temple and ear and neck. Whatever they did with him, CB did his best to help the Jacks hoist him into a car. God that had really fucking hurt. He hoped that Broker would have a way to deal with this idiot clone and that they had managed to gag the fucker.

By the time they arrived back at headquarters he would have regained his composure, though his head still hurt badly. He would talk not at all until addressed by Broker. Hopefully the tear in his costume didn't translate over to his clone.

Hopefully they remembered which was which....

Evelyn Chambers – Tulpa

Feeling empty and listless, she looked up as one of the PRT's employees prompted her for her pass-phrase. For a long moment she just stared at him, anguish in her expression, before finally speaking up.

"A shadow passes over a lake of silver light. The solid sky pulls it through its reflection and a being is born." She swallowed hard. The passphrase related to her power intimately. She wanted to change it. She wanted to throw up, just from thinking about that horrible thing. The thing that was part of her. The thing that had hurt Lillian. An aborted sob escaped her throat as she passed the man—bringing up the tail end of the team.

So it was that she was last to sit down in the room where surely they'd be admonished. When director Kens spoke she barely heard—let alone believed—the words he was saying. They wouldn't be blamed? But it was their fault. You could blame their actions solely on Decoy's bad information.

The thoughts began to stoke an anger in her, but before it could find enough fuel to last, the director said her name and she visibly twitched, swallowing hard. As her teammates spoke all the fight went out of her. Very unprofessionally, she brought her feet up onto her seat and hugged her knees, burying her face against them. She'd since removed her mask and anyone who'd look would see make-up running and tear streaks down her face.

As Alessa heaped the blame onto her, Evelyn brought her hands up and wiped her face, smearing more make-up. When her teammate finished she looked up and met the imperious gaze of Director Kens. She clenched her jaw, but she still found that her teeth chattered somewhat. She was shaking and nearby, in the room, behind Kens, a faint silver light hovered.

A shock of panic, eyes widening before she banished the projection's shadow once more. It vanished in a flash of movement, phasing through a wall.

It took her precious seconds to compose herself and when she tried to talk, nothing came out. She tried again, and almost sobbed. Taking a cue from Alessa, she took some deep breaths and then tried again.

"It...it wasn't all Alessa's fault. In my haste to..p-provide aid, my...the projection..." she trailed off, shaking as she took a faltering breath, before she could speak again.

"My projection cut its way through one of the walls to get in. I...it wasn't a decision I made rationally. It...it just reacted to my desire to help."

She hid the bottom half of her face in her knees a moment, looking across the room at Director Kens for a moment. There was barely stifled terror and sadness in her eyes.

"Near...near the end. One of Dean's..." she almost choked on the name. Tears started flowing again and she frowned, clearly distressed that she couldn't hold them back. Her voice sounded shaky as she continued, but she pressed on anyways. "...the clones...one of them hit my projection with a beam. It felt like...it felt like it was accelerated maybe? I can usually feel it like it's part of me, but it...it felt far away all of a sudden. Like I'd been using it longer than I actually had maybe? It wouldn't respond to commands. It just...it lunged at Lillian." Where the tears at first fell steadily, now they practically drenched her cheeks, hitting the fabric on her knees and slowly wetting it as well.

"I couldn't stop it. If...if Alessa hadn't reacted as she did, it would've really hurt Lillian. It might have done worse. I couldn't con-control. I don't know wh--...." She cut off into a quiet sob and buried her face again, unable to continue. Now they all knew.

Surely she'd be removed from the Wards. They couldn't use someone who couldn't control their power. Her power...she didn't even want to use it, or think about using it. She didn't know when the projection might turn on them again. She couldn't deal with that eventuality. She couldn't deal with causing harm to people who didn't deserve it...who weren't rotten like criminal were, like all villains were.

She just couldn't.
In One Piece: New Horizons! → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Lilliana Merrycure

Now this was speed! This was adventure! This was...VERY DANGEROUS HOLY SHI-- the ship hit the one of the channel's sides and she was jostled and thrown to the side, only just catching herself before toppling over the side of the railing. Quietly, she swore, before turning to see what everyone else was doing...and then they were airborne.

“Wha-wha-wha?!?” Her eyes widened in a mixture of terror and excitement, the ship's descent following its hop leaving her briefly suspended in the air before they hit the waves. They'd lost a mast! They were on a collision course! They needed to slow down!

B-MO moved, a flash, reaching into her huge, deep mechanic's pouch and devouring all of the metal there. She squeaked slightly in fright at the overwhelming situation and the sudden loss of all her tools.

Then she realized she could do something about it as B-MO began to swell, for it was digesting the metals and generating more of the bio-metal that made up its form. Understanding, Lilli set her jaw and allowed a small smirk to form.

“BRACE YOURSELVES GENTLEMEN!” She shouted as she managed to get to her dear son. Over the roaring wind and waves, she called out to him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Entangle my legs with roots,” she told him. Once he'd done that she focused her awareness through B-MO and allowed the still rapidly expanding metallic organism to stretch out into two sets of absolutely huge metal arms. Spikes shout out at intervals and anchored to the ship at sturdy points, doing minimal damage.

“Reinforce the spikes, I know you can do it. You'll get all the milk and cuddles after this, I promise!” She said, coaxing strength into her boy. She smiled as the two of the arms, more like long thick tentacles now, plunged over the sides of the ship and dipped into the water. Immediately they began deforming from the current and the forces applied. She gritted her teeth and with one of her flesh-and-blood limbs, extracted a syringe and injected herself with it. It would give her a shot of adrenaline and healing juices. It was a stopgap measure, but it'd have to do.

She felt B-MO's presence in her body, reinforcing her, and it was pretty painful. Then the forces acting on the arms—and thus her—increased tenfold and everything went white for a few seconds. She'd passed out, but came to only seconds later, her body shaking as the force of creating what amounted to spoon-like scoops in the water were formed. They were perpendicular to the boat and the current and so water would be caught, creating additional drag to slow the ship down.

The downside was despite her preparations and the assistance of BS, the physical forces acting on her body were immense. If she were normal she'd have been torn asunder several times over. With the assistance she merely felt like she might be torn apart. The tension in all of her muscles was immense.

Hopefully it would be enough to slow them down.
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