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1 mo ago
Current Tonight at midnight: Doom
2 mos ago
Week 4 of a bad flu. Reality is poison.
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2 mos ago
Week 3 of a bad flu. I'm ready to sacrifice a goat for improved health.
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4 mos ago
I'm the top percentile of ratatta. Fact.
6 mos ago
"I am the darkness, descending over the land of the rising sun. Midnight has come."

Bio



Credit to mah boy @REKAIGAN for the badass mask he drew for me. You da real mvp.

Zelosse#6215 on Discord.

Disclaimer - I work long hours every week with usually just a single day off, so at times it's likely for me to be overwhelmed with expectations and just shut down for a week or so.
Please be patient!

Most Recent Posts

Ok but man the setup here was just fuckin' weird. No warning. Looks like a crazy man just barged in, shit out a fanfic, and strut around it.

Context is important in the future.
This might seem rude but what exactly are you doing in the ooc writing a post..?

Age: 32
Branch: Trooper
Skills:

  • Advanced Stalker - Stealth operations are Ochos bread and butter, with him excelling at tasks requiring extreme patience and discipline along with a strong sense of direction, tracking, long distance observation, and evading pursuit.
  • Deadeye - Excels at long distance operations are not limited to surveillance. Ocho is a remarkable marksman and spotter with a knack for landing a shot in even the most unsuitable of conditions.
  • Survivalist - Scouts by the nature of their title need to be capable of completing their tasks without reliance on the larger picture, needing to adapt to new landscapes and dangers while retaining their efficiency for the task. This is an incredibly hard skill for many to master but Ocho exceeds expectations.

Non-standard gear:

  • Tactical helmet - Built in range finder, headset, smoke filter system, voice alteration equipment, thermal vision. Based on an original design and modified for espionage over standard field work, it is easily the scouts best friend. Ochos helmet was specifically modified to filter his sight with lingering magic detection, similar to thermal vision but reacting to magic essence.
  • Specialty rounds - [Fire/Thunder/Toxin/Gas] - As the title suggests, these are not your regular sniper rounds and are rather valuable. The brass casings have inscriptions around them that trigger different effects to the rounds within. Some turn the projectile to superheated bursts or deliver massive electrical discharges. Others are manufactured specifically for GRAMs best field agents, injecting targets with lethal chemics stored in a hollowpoint round, or release a cloud of colorless but potently flammable gas.
  • Geiger Counter - Similar to devices used to measure radiation saturating the area, this device was modified to track lingering pockets of magic essences in the air from up to 3 weeks previous. The stronger the magic used the higher the device spikes. Ocho uses it as an early warning device.


Biography: Maybe Ocho isn't the smartest or sanest of people in GRAM but there is no denying his abilities are borderline inhuman, a tracker of the highest caliber with a decorated history of engagements inside and outside the city. Utterly fearless and a self made man of pure discipline put on this planet for the soul purpose of walking its withering husk without a sound. This man lives for his job and has proven many times that the harder the work the harder he works, earning trust and responsibility by the handful, even briefly being in charge of training other scouts. In the end he was considered too lax with field work after expressing repeatedly that recruits failed his own testing due to a lack of creativity or adaptability, stating 'good scouts are born, not trained'.

Despite working for GRAM and sporting an impressive kill count, Ocho is a kind soul. Cares for every citizen in the city even if he does not trust all of them, and silently wishes the fear of the supernatural would stop hindering the betterment of the cities people at large.
@AtomicNut names listed in the hider under the pic tho


Age: 32
Branch: Trooper
Skills:

  • Advanced Stalker - Stealth operations are Ochos bread and butter, with him excelling at tasks requiring extreme patience and discipline along with a strong sense of direction, tracking, long distance observation, and evading pursuit.
  • Deadeye - Excels at long distance operations are not limited to surveillance. Ocho is a remarkable marksman and spotter with a knack for landing a shot in even the most unsuitable of conditions.
  • Survivalist - Scouts by the nature of their title need to be capable of completing their tasks without reliance on the larger picture, needing to adapt to new landscapes and dangers while retaining their efficiency for the task. This is an incredibly hard skill for many to master but Ocho exceeds expectations.

Non-standard gear:

  • Tactical helmet - Built in range finder, headset, smoke filter system, voice alteration equipment, thermal vision. Based on an original design and modified for espionage over standard field work, it is easily the scouts best friend. Ochos helmet was specifically modified to filter his sight with lingering magic detection, similar to thermal vision but reacting to magic essence.
  • Specialty rounds - [Fire/Thunder/Toxin/Gas] - As the title suggests, these are not your regular sniper rounds and are rather valuable. The brass casings have inscriptions around them that trigger different effects to the rounds within. Some turn the projectile to superheated bursts or deliver massive electrical discharges. Others are manufactured specifically for GRAMs best field agents, injecting targets with lethal chemics stored in a hollowpoint round, or release a cloud of colorless but potently flammable gas.
  • Geiger Counter - Similar to devices used to measure radiation saturating the area, this device was modified to track lingering pockets of magic essences in the air from up to 3 weeks previous. The stronger the magic used the higher the device spikes. Ocho uses it as an early warning device.


Biography: Maybe Ocho isn't the smartest or sanest of people in GRAM but there is no denying his abilities are borderline inhuman, a tracker of the highest caliber with a decorated history of engagements inside and outside the city. Utterly fearless and a self made man of pure discipline put on this planet for the soul purpose of walking its withering husk without a sound. This man lives for his job and has proven many times that the harder the work the harder he works, earning trust and responsibility by the handful, even briefly being in charge of training other scouts. In the end he was considered too lax with field work after expressing repeatedly that recruits failed his own testing due to a lack of creativity or adaptability, stating 'good scouts are born, not trained'.

Despite working for GRAM and sporting an impressive kill count, Ocho is a kind soul. Cares for every citizen in the city even if he does not trust all of them, and silently wishes the fear of the supernatural would stop hindering the betterment of the cities people at large.
Cheers mate, good to see this up. Lemme read up a bit and I'll hit ya with a cs.
I'm still here but struggling to make a post due to work. Forgiveness

Interactions: Ito, Kenji - @Jojo / Takeda, Suzaku - @EnterTheHero


Kaitos fingers struggled to strike the chords as his mind wandered the empty avenues commonly associated with doubt. Despite his very well intentioned words with Hiroki just a few minutes ago there was a feeling in his heart that the brusque refusal of cooperation had been a poor move. After all, nobody knew what to expect from the next 'event' of the school day but it was obvious this day would not end with simple homework and a relaxing shower.
Glancing up as a shadow fell across his sight he snapped out of the daze and glances up to the figure approaching but fails to recognize them from the entrance test or the quirk demonstrations. Clutching his guitar a little closer, Kaito can only watch the figure march forward.

”Hello!” he called cheerfully. ”Haruko-san, yes? I’m Takeda Suzaku. I just wanted to say, your Quirk is quite impressive. Do you maybe have time or the inclination to talk about it for a while? While we’re waiting for this to start.”


"H-hello." Kaito manages to squeak out, finally, after staring at Suzaku from top to bottom. Normally this would be the proper time for a braver man to speak up that they were a bit shy, though considering again the rather frank way he had spoken with Hiroki you might not know it. Instead all that came out with was mumbled apology as the musically inclined kid tried to cool his head. Working up his strained courage to reply to Suzaku, they were interrupted by the sound of a helicopter coming in to drop off a teacher. After a brief explanation of themself and the task to be done, Kaito tugged on Suzakus sleeve.

"Team up." He then points to the large beetle boy to the side and they walk over, Kaito looks visibly more relaxed in the presence of the larger boy. "Kenji-kun. Teamup like the demonstrations?"

Let it be finished.
This forced march into the very heart of mutation that you are the blame of.
The hunger of your men, starved by your ambition to go forward unprepared for the storm forming around you. I pray when they find us, find our bodies bloated with your twisted ideas, that our deaths bring you the pain you have brought us. The Gods have no love for men without loyalty.
-Final words of the Seer Rozhok, loyal to the Warden.




At the center of the growing hive, below the first level of the prison complex he had spent a lifetime creating, was the hidden testing grounds of a demented 'king' at the seat of his power. A channeler of twisted and chaotic magic blessed by the unholy gods has created a virus that mutates hosts and transforms the living and dead into hideous abominations of insect and human appearance. This being who created the plague that has destroyed his home, his people, prisoners and soldiers alike, is the last victim to their own ambitions as they are carted like livestock to the foot of the bloated monster that was the first to succumb.
The first to evolve.
They who incubated the magic that created the horde of insects, a prisoner of exceptional will and limitless defiance. At this things command they are ripped apart by the horde of insect beings surrounding its form and force their tormentor and creator into the viscous goo, regurgitating the bile and flesh of their dead 'hive leader' back into the newest victim.

Mere hours later, the warden was reborn from the terror that was the hives ruler. Reborn to be this worlds master. Like the first, the Warden is strong of will and strong of mind. Disciplined. Fearless. The mutation has given this formidable being all the blessings of its perfect mutation, purity of form and purpose. The stinging sword is felt in their mind for the briefest of instants and responded in kind, swarming the hated survivors with their growing brood.
The call of the hive has even reached the waiting creatures the party had passed. The inmates on death row have been returned by the plague wasps, the fallen guards manning the barricades who took their own lives have returned as mindless husks caught forever in the change from man to insect. The dead members of Falcons claw return for revenge.
Step by shaking step they shrug off their old skins and sprout the demonic forms of the perfect mutation. Barely 24 hours and the unrestrained virus had run rampant, rapidly altering itself and those it infected body after body.

Massive flying insects, large as a stray dog, buzzed their bulbous abdomens up the stairs at the party, their long proboscis dripping with carnage as they began to glow. Raw blood from their allies was reacting to some awful chemical in their bodies. Diana screamed her magic into the stairways and several of the flying creatures exploded into scalding oily death, the acidic compound in their glowing bodies eating away anything it came in contact with but evaporated quickly leaving only blackened scorch marks wherever they popped.
Not that the attackers cared for their losses. Driven by the hellish will of the hive master they came clawing over each other, perfect strains mixed with the abominations variant that lacked their siblings' superior armor and offensive capabilities. The perfect strains were barely even recognizable as human anymore.

Several of the variants and one perfect strain straddled the ceiling to drop down into the midst of the party, the perfect strain pouncing at Hawkes @Tim unprotected flank. The others screamed and charged the back line with reckless abandon.
Arguth stood at the frontline ahead of Hawkes, their smoldering blade separating chitin and flesh with each stroke. The only saving grace was that despite the width of the staircase, Dianas ice spell had created jagged terrain the imperfect variants could not easily navigate. Unfortunately that left the better armored creatures to lead the attack, scythed arms slashing in multiple directions attempting to pierce Hawkes defense.

In the back line, the twins were armed with their favored daggers. Etched with bloody red runes, forbidden words of a dead language that promised only death, they dealt quick damage with their blades but could not land telling blows so instead had settled for incapacitating the menace. Slashed legs, ruptures eyes, dismembered arms. Anything that could be a telling advantage for Kris, Diana, Scar, and Macey.
The soft thumps of of more screeching mutants signaled that the imperfect variants had discovered the ceiling and had begun flanking. In moments Hawkes and Arguth would be overwhelmed.
Ashton Andrews - Training Arc / To become a Master


@Letter Bee

Armed with what relics he could take, a handful of his loyalist soldiers, and the 3 champions that had been as sons to him over many years, Belrigger had toppled rhe gargantuan underground network and set fire to everything else with impunity. Hundreds were displaced by these actions and few took it as roughly as the arena master was, cursing into the heavens as his life was again cast into turnoil by the royalty he had once served so diligently for.

The gods had cursed him to thrive until his ambitions grew too high and swept his glory from the table like mere scraps of food for the hounds barking at its edges. Had it not been for the promise, a pact of non-aggressions against the city and its ruling powers, Belrigger might have been tempted to maim his way to a justice they believed was owed.
Instead they had all fled, long spiraling tunnels built over a dozen years of toiling, until the next safehouse deep in the royals district surrounded them and the tunnels all but obliterated, by magic and engineering alike.

Perched atop the balcony overlooking the horizon, Belrigger turned to the gods with a plea of mercy. To show him, at last, what purpose he served if not for his own glory then truly what? His answer was a shimmer as a boy was whisked into hia midst. Bright white light that heralded an angel or a devil right at his feet.
As true a sign that the gods had a plan than Belrigger could comprehend.

In his mind, thoughts not his own came unbidden, demanded the skills of a Royal guard captain to be passed on. The trials of a gladiator champion must be passed along.
Belrigger didn't prepare to understand, but he would comply. Even someone as untrained in magic as himself could tell the boy, Ashton was his name, held the spark of greater things. True greatness. That inexplainable idea was all he could think on.

"Whoever you are, whatever you are.. You are my chance, aren't you?"

Belrigger didn't bother waiting for a reply, thrusting the sword on his belt into the students hands. Every move they made he would watch with a relentless zeal and critical sense of judgement.

"The gods answer my call and you are their reply. Your training begins now."

His mind made up, the two entered the balcony as master and student, to the bewilderment of every soldier and his own sworn children of the sword. None could understand, but they would trust, and in time.. they would see the truth.




The training Belrigger spoke of was brutal even by his own standards. Whatever angelic forces had created or sent this young man to him had imbued their form with a talent beyond comprehension, near as the Master of the Arena could tell it made them a prodigy. A single maneuver that took the Royal Knights hundreds of hours at swordplay to master had been learned in minutes after being demonstrated. Basic swordplay, defensive measures, footwork, every exotic weapon he could think of, mastered in a matter of hours.
In a week of training, Ashton was leagues ahead of the 3 arena champions personally trained over 10 years by Belrigger. Even Blackblood, the fastest of his fighters, simply could not stand on par in single combat anymore.

Banging his hand on the table, the old man felt his stomach shake as he bellowed a laugh. In such short order the young man had risen to a state of perfection that had wildly exceeded anyones expectations, bested every house guard in single and 3 on 1 combat, overpowered every one of Belriggers arena champions, and stood as a proper threat to even Belrigger himself.
In a week!

"A toast!" Seated at the marble table, he poured a generous amount of wine into his cup and raised it in fine spirits to Ashtons name. A name that would become legend someday. "To my greatest student, to the loyalties of every man and woman here, and to our futures!" Everyone gathered in the training room, sporting a high balcony similar to the arena had once hailed over, gave a cheer for the youngest member of the group.

"Ashton Andrews. Your growth is an inspiration to us all. Words fail to express my joy at seeing a prodigy grow in so short a time to be a rival to even my best. I will not claim to know what lays in your heart but I know you can only grow stronger, stronger than my best and stronger than myself. So it falls to me now to arm you with more than the weapon in your hand." A grand sweep of his arm, theatric perhaps, gestured to the training rooms monolithic exit. For a week the boy had not left this place and had been devoted to perfection. "You will leave this place, blessed one, and retrieve the materials needed from the golden quarter. Return to me when you have found the strongest metals you can and we shall forge you a legacy in steel to match your skills."

It was tragic, really. So short a time spent training had failed to leave Belrigger with a lasting impression of this young mans heart. Talented to be sure, but part of him wondered if this was a new curse. That he should be responsible for releasing a monster upon the city trained by his own hand. Shaking his head, he cleared away the unpleasant idea. Every man had the potential to be a monster in their own way but that was this ones path to choose now.

"I wish you the best, Master Andrews." A final toast and the doors began to open, revealing the Royal Districts spreading out ahead of them.
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