Zeroth

The Jade Stream

Dai Xin looked at Kyang in confusion as she huffed and puffed her way along. He himself hadn't broken a sweat yet. But eventually they found a perch where they could stop for a moment and get the lay of the land below them; from here they could see quite a long stretch of the road, and all the undergrowth around it. They watched as Liu stopped to investigate what seemed to be an animal trail.

"Miss Kyang, from here we should be able to see any trails or runs that travel alongside the road." he whispered. "I believe a group of bandits who knew what they were doing might find it more tactically sound to attack from there." He pointed to one of the many winding, narrow paths. "What is your opinion?"

Again the slightly misty aura appeared, only this time it flickered like a flame within Dai Xin's eyeballs.

"Fist of the Sky, Scrolls of Transcendence. Eye of the Bull." He whispered that too, for who knew what reason.

A group that attacked from a forest like this would be wearing camouflage. Recognizing them among the foliage would be difficult. Their movement would be what gave them away. Rather than a predator, who could see far and sharp, Dai Xin needed the eyes of a prey animal, always wary for an attack.

The flow of Qi to the eyes, focused. I do not need the perception of color. Dynamic vision, to track movement. Depth perception, to gauge the distance most accurately. Open, pathways of the mind and eye. I must see faster, as if time were slower...

His field of vision widened, then became more clearly defined in three dimensions. Everything turned shades of gray. His perception of time slowed--his brain was processing the information received by his eye much more quickly than normal. If he moved his own body, this disparity between what he was seeing and what was happening would have made it impossible to coordinate. But as long as he was observing like this, every tiny movement--the rustle of leaves, the head of a curious rabbit poking out of its hole--was clear to him...

Dice

The die fell on a five. It fell just short of the maximum, something Mark strongly identified with, and then wondered why he felt so strongly about this stupid thing. Then its color changed.

"Huh?"

Was it like a magic eight ball, with fluid inside it that when you shook it up the color of the crystal would change? He picked it up again--only for it to phase through his hand as it dissipated like smoke in the wind. He drew his limb back as if he'd been shocked.

"What the f--"

A buzzing from his phone alerted him to an incoming text message. His heart suddenly soared into his throat--maybe his teacher had finally gotten back to him about private lessons? The mysterious die forgotten for the moment, he grabbed up the phone and opened the message.

"From...error? Unknown number?"

He knew a phone number could be blocked from view, but did it work the same way for texts? Couldn't he just...reply? He read the contents of the message, and word by word his eyes grew larger.

"You rolled a five...current points, five. Parameters...What the hell is going on here?"

Endurance, Intelligence, Strength...Appearance. Sociability. The list went on, like a character sheet for a D&D game that covered every possible trait a person could ever have. There were twenties in most of them...was that supposed to be the average number?

"How'd they know I rolled a 5? And who the hell is the judge who decided what my numbers get to be!?"

There were even Quests, offering more dice as reward! His heart beat a little faster. This couldn't be possible. It couldn't be possible to just roll a magic die and somehow level up in real life. Was this a prank? How could a prank make a die disappear into thin air? He read the quests more closely. They were...challenging him. Him, personally. They wanted him to take initiative, to show off his manuscript, or continue his martial arts, or run a marathon, or...

"I'M SORRY, FUCK YOU?!"

Flirt with a girl. Successfully ask a girl on a date. Get consent to touch a girl's chest.

"MOTHERFUCKER YOU BETTER HOPE TO GOD I CAN'T TRACE THIS BULLSHIT."

What's more, those quests offered more dice than the others! Okay, fine, he knew he was a loser, he hadn't had a girlfriend since he was fifteen, and he...he was still a virgin...but, but...

He gripped the phone with white knuckles, glaring molten hatred at the snarky text message.

"Alright, fine. Let's actually think about this, if for no other reason than to feel less like we're being made fun of by an unknown entity." he said through grinding teeth.

Endurance, Intelligence, and Strength were highest. Intelligence was obvious--there you go being all high and mighty again, when you barely got out of college--and Endurance made sense. He wasn't super strong or super fast, compared to people he had trained with. But he had always been the favorite practice partner of everyone at the dojo, because he could always jump right back up after being thrown or strangled or punched. Overall, the stats were a good judge of his abilities.

If he only had a certain number of points to spend, then he could possibly keep pumping his specialities...Would it have an effect, here in the real world? If it did...could he actually become some kind of superhuman? Pump strength until he could benchpress trucks? Increase Agility until he could run like a...like a...

He remembered an old viral video about a fictional energy drink. Powerthirst! You'll run as fast as KENYANS!

Was that racist?

He shook his head to clear the stupid stuff. If these points had an actual effect in the real world...Was there really any use for that kind of ability?

"I could possibly get stronger, faster, and smarter just by working out more and reading more, doing more. I mean...I still suck, but I've been trying to do these exercises again for like a month and a half now, even before the dojo closed." He paced as he talked to himself; when he was alone, this was how he focused. "I've raised the number of pushups I can do from 20 to 55, and when I first started running again I could only do a mile and a half in thirty minutes." He looked at his phone.

"Hmm...Sociability is my worst one. But...maybe if I had an actual reason to be social, I could get better at that with practice too..."

Working out would also mean losing weight. But, even if he cut his weight down to what he wanted it to be...there were parts of his genetics he'd never be able to change, not without extensive and expensive surgery. And what did he want out of life, anyway? Did he need to be able to benchpress a truck? What use would he get out of that? Sure, maybe he could be a superhero, stop crime or something. But he wouldn't be bulletproof. Or able to fly. Or able to hear a crime occurring miles away.

He wanted a life where he made enough goddamn money that he didn't have to do a damn thing anymore, and could focus on reading or playing games or training. And he wanted...

He wanted somebody to love him. It wasn't just about sex, about losing his V-card. That was why he had never gone out and tried to hook up with anyone, or go to bars or parties. He didn't want a fling, and he didn't want to grab the first girl he saw. He wanted an actual relationship.

"Human beings are shallow, regardless of whether or not they want to be." He admitted to himself, "In the end, I do want sex. I want a relationship, but I do very much want sex. But I don't have the confidence or the social skill...but..."

Why not? It was a simple and ugly truth of the world. Beautiful people were more successful. So, at least this one time, to test out whether or not these Dice Points actually did anything...

He looked at his phone. How was he supposed to do this? Did he just...maybe...

He sent a reply.

"Put all 5 Points into Appearance."

Then he ran to the bathroom mirror, looking closely at his face. There were three moles on his face: one on his cheek, one just between his nose and his lips, and one right on the side of his mouth. They were almost perfectly aligned diagonally, and bullies used to call him "Tic-Tac-Face." He had always thought his nose was a little too big. And that his ears stuck out too far from his head. Then of course there was the fat in his cheeks, in his neck. Would that be something he'd just have to exercise more to get rid of? His teeth had never been Hollywood white. He'd had braces when he was younger, so they were alright as far as straightness and orderly-ness went, but they weren't movie star perfect either.

Then, as he watched...

Dice

For instance, with dice, you can theoretically raise your physique past an Olympic athelete's, which would require entirely unreasonable if not impossible effort without dice. If you want to go from a "15" to a "20" via diet and exercise, though, that's perfectly doable.

@Three

What if you did 100 pushups, 100 squats, 100 situps, and 10 km running every day for 3 years with no AC, even in the summer?
/jk

As an actual question, is it alright to go ahead and post again if there's still folks who haven't done intros for their characters? Should we follow an order of any sort, or will it be okay as long as we're not spamming or doing an endless back-and-forth?

Dice

So will we need to be keeping track of the different stats and such as we progress through the RP? How many are there and what are they, exactly? I know Endurance, Strength, Intelligence, Agility, and Appearance were mentioned, but all the other different categories we've listed in the CSs, what do they fall under?

Dice

His feet pounded the street as hard as he could make them, and it was only enough to keep him moving slightly faster than a brisk walk. His calves felt like something was tearing them apart, just peeling the muscle fibers away from the bone. He choked down another breath as he came to the top of the hill.

C'mon, Mark, it's right there! C'mon, c'mon! Last push, Mark, last push!

He tried to give it his all for the last few yards. He tried to reach down into his socks and pull out everything he had left in him. It must not have been much, because all he could really do was lengthen his stride for about fifteen seconds. It made his side cramp painfully in protest. Mark stumbled into his driveway and slowed to a crawling walk, raising his hands up above his head as he desperately tried to suck air. As he made the short trip to his doorstep, he looked back down the road, then pulled his phone out of the case clipped to his hip and swiped the screen to stop his clock.

"Tw-twenty-eight, huff, minutes. Give or take." he mumbled, as he leaned against his door so he could focus on turning the knob and not falling on his ass. "Three miles. Goddammit, I used to be able to, huff, huff, I used to be able to do that in nineteen." That still wouldn't have been good enough. He'd seen somebody on the cross-country team do it in fifteen, back in high school.

Both of his parents were gone. They were retired now, but still worked part time jobs, mostly because they couldn't stand to sit around the house and watch their one-remaining nest egg, the one they'd pushed harder than any of the others, be a worthless loser. He was grateful for the silence, at least. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and forced himself to take it slow so he wouldn't throw up or suck it down his windpipe. Still moving slowly, painfully, he did his cool-down stretches and hoped that would be enough to keep his legs from cramping up. Then he moved out of the living room, heading to his bedroom on the other side of the house. He lurched in, bumped his hip on his desk with a muttered curse, and sat down on the bed to yank off his running shoes. As he tossed them to the floor, a glint caught his eye.

That die. He didn't know why he'd picked it up, he had no idea where it could have been or what it was from. It had just...caught his eye, like it had just now. It'd been a momentary distraction from...from...

Dammit.

The dojo had been the only place in the world he had ever felt like he fit in. To some people, taking Karate lessons was a hobby. For him it was practically his life. It was all he really had in this world. Once he had a few friends, not many, but enough to feel like he wasn't such a freak. Then they'd left. He had a good record, strong academic standing...then he'd nearly flunked, and driven himself into suicidal thoughts, and all for a degree that he might as well have wiped his ass with. Once he'd even had a dog, and no matter how bad his life got, at least his real best friend had always loved him and greeted him with a wagging tail. Not anymore.

He felt the tears threatening to well up again. In a sudden fit of fury he reached out and grabbed the die, hurling it. It bounced off his desk, ricocheted off the wall, then clattered along the floorboards.

Somehow, just like before, it caught his eye...along with the number it landed on...

In Hunting Beasts and Monsters

So...everybody just busy with back-to-school/college business, or...?

Warriors of Hyrule [A Fantasy Drama Odyssey]

"A pleasure to meet you!" Seeker said, before tossing his hair and flashing her a dazzling smile, along with a thumbs up. "I'm sure we're gonna get along great!" As the other woman approached (and the old guy, but Seeker didn't pay him much attention) Seeker turned towards her as well, his horse nickering in annoyance as he continued to stand upright in the saddle. "And you too! I'm Seeker, nice to meet'cha!"

The Gerudo showed up last of all, and when his horse spooked him...just like before, with the guards, his hand went to his weapon. Seeker sobered up for a moment as he watched the other man stare the animal down.

Does literally everything trigger a reflex like that? Seems more like fear than a combat reaction. Is he paranoid, or just eager to show off what he can do? The Shiekah smirked. Well, I can't judge on that last one. I'm the same way.

When they were all ready to go, he finally sat down in his saddle...but rather than put his feet in the stirrups, he simply lounged back with one leg crossed over his knee. His foot bobbed loosely as he folded his arms behind his head and yawned. His horse cast a glare at him, before following behind Lydia's mount. Despite its jostling gait, Seeker somehow stayed perfectly balanced.

"So, the Zora, they're the fish people right?" he asked the group. "Do ya think they eat fish, or would they consider that like, cannibalism?" He seemed to be seriously considering the inane possibility. "But maybe it's more comparable to a Hylian or a Human trying to eat a monkey...But monkeys don't taste as good as fish, do they?"

Dice

Mark Adams

Name: Mark Adams

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Appearance: Mark is very much an average, if not below average, looking guy. He's about 5 feet, 10 inches tall and weighs around 220 pounds. To look at him most folks would guess he's actually around 190, because he has fairly broad shoulders and carries himself well, but he definitely has a spare tire going on. His dark brown, wavy hair is somewhere between medium and short at the moment, and swept back over his head. It makes his forehead look a lot larger, but helps emphasize more of his jaw by making his head look thinner. If he lets it fall forward, it tends to make the fat in his cheeks stand out and make him look like a kid. His eyes are green, and he tends to wear a lot of that color. Despite his extra weight, his arms and legs aren't that large at first glance, but the backs of his arms and his shoulders are fairly muscular. Currently he also has a scruffy, few-days-without-shaving beard going on, but he's never grown a lot of body hair so compared to other people it doesn't even look like 5 o'clock shadow.

Personality: Mark is at an odd crossroads with himself, having several flaws that stand out among some strong positive traits and being in a just-beginning state of self-realization and actualization. He is most definitely an intelligent and creative person, but he feels that his intelligence is, at best, only slightly above average. He is highly introverted, yet at the same time longs to feel like someone legitimately cares about him, and wants to have friends and be capable of functioning around other people, but acknowledges that he's very much a home-body who has periods where he only wants to be by himself. Yet despite this, he feels that he has trouble caring about other people, and often sees more of another person's flaws than he does their good points. He's very uptight, very by the book, and more logical than one would think considering he also describes himself as creative. He considers one of his biggest problems to be a lack of work ethic and a lack of self-discipline--he just can't make himself keep doing something that makes him miserable even if there's a payoff in the long term.

He's desperate to become a better person than he is now, but feels that he continuously backslides or re-treads old ground on his journey towards "being a real adult."

History: Mark was born as the youngest of four children in a happy middle class family. But there were issues beneath the surface that Mark himself never had any control over. He would not realize this until he was much older. He was under immense pressure from his parents to succeed in every aspect. One thing his father said that has always stuck with him was "You set the curve. You make everyone else step up to YOUR level." He dealt with several issues, especially trouble making friends and bullying.

When he was 12 years old, he happened to hear about a Karate school across town, and begged his parents to let him join. It changed his life. Martial arts became his passion. His wimpy little nerd body became stronger. He became more confident. He stopped having trouble with bullies at school.

He graduated as valedictorian, but felt like making the speech, getting all the rewards, and listening to everyone talk about how well he had done for himself was such a bother. He didn't like being under so much pressure, but felt like most other people were just happy and content to wallow in their mediocrity and that being "superior" was easier than most would admit.

College was where everything went downhill. He realized that he was not as "superior" as he thought he was. He changed majors a few times before settling on art, because he enjoyed drawing in his free time. But his enjoyment died, and his grades suffered. He was always told that he had to be the best. If his work wasn't as good as it could be--perfect--why bother turning it in? Why bother finishing the project when the person next to him had one that looked so much better? No matter how much he practiced he never felt like he could catch up. In the end he spent an extra semester in school to raise his grades, and still only passed by the skin of his teeth.

To focus on his schoolwork, he had to stop taking Karate classes. He gained a lot of weight, and got out of shape. The few friends he had from high school had all gone their separate ways. He couldn't do what he loved. He was lonely. His parents never let up on the pressure to succeed. He fell into a depressive spiral in his sophomore year of college that ended with a self-imposed commitment to the hospital.

After three years of therapy, and finally being able to get back to his martial arts training, he felt like his life was finally getting better. Until he tried entering the job market. He has been unemployed and living with his parents for six months now. Their constant nagging is wearing him down, but he hopes that once he finishes a novel he has been working on, that he'll hit it big and become an overnight bestseller.

The latest straw to break his back has been a series of unfortunate events. First, his dog died due to a sudden illness. Then, he had to deal with some family drama due to events out of his control, thanks to one of his siblings and their family. In addition to having no friends, he also feels isolated among his own family. And the final nail in the coffin was an announcement by his karate instructor that, due to dwindling membership and the owner of their school building selling the place out from under them, that their class would be disbanded. As he walked out of the dojo, uniform slung over his shoulder, trying to contain his sobs until he could get to his car...he saw something glint under a street lamp. For a single moment he felt an odd curiosity, and looked down to see an odd blue, almost crystalline dice. Perhaps it was the fact that so many of the events in his life recently had felt "unlucky," but he had to pick it up. After a moment of examination, it went into a pocket...and he went home to bed feeling like crap.

Specializations:
High - Endurance. Mark's not as fit as he used to be, but can still run long distances at a steady (slow) pace, take hard hits and get back up, and recover from injury pretty quickly.

Medium - Intelligence. Mark likes to read and learn about new things, and desperately wants to improve himself as a person through education and broadening his perspective.

Low - Strength. Though he's not in the kind of shape he wants to be in, over a decade of martial arts training has still made him stronger than average.

Imperfections:
Low - Agility. Moving fast and being flexible are two things Mark has always had problems with, even back when he considered himself to be in shape.

Medium - Appearance. Mark has never felt, even at the best times of his life, that he was "hot," or even "mild." It has a fairly significant impact on his self esteem.

High - Sociability. Mark wants to be liked, but is shy. He wants people to care about him, but finds most people beneath his own notice. He wants to do good in the world, but thinks that most of society is inherently corrupt. He's a hypocrite who knows he's a hypocrite, and hard to get along with.

Other: Mark watches anime and plays video games, but doesn't like to "reveal his power level."

The Jade Stream

Dai Xin frowned, and folded his hands into his sleeves. With a sigh, he bowed to Torako and Kyang.

"Forgive my rudeness. This one became overzealous. But, if it pleases Miss Torako, I would dearly like to learn more of the arts of your homeland. Perhaps we could continue this at a later time."

As he straightened his back he nodded to Liu, and turned towards the trees at the edge of town.

"Miss Kyang, I have discerned what I believe to be the most efficient way for us to move without being seen. Please follow me." he said over his shoulder. "Good luck to you, Miss Torako, young master Fengxian." And with that, he took a deep breath. A slightly translucent aura, like fog rising over frosted glass, began to form near his navel and traveled down his leg in wispy spirals, until it reached the soles of his feet.

"Fist of the Sky, Eight Directions Method - Compression Step."

His legs flexed like he was going to skip, like one might frolic through flowers. But instead he soared in the blink of an eye and landed, catlike, atop the village gate. He looked back at Kyang and pointed to a nearby tree.

"Make sure to bend your knees and relax your core when you land, lest the branches' movement give us away." Again he leaped, and this time landed at the end of a branch a bit too thin for anyone else's comfort. Yet his feet gripped it through his shoes, the slippers bending as he flexed his toes and soles, and in a flowing movement he began running along it the way only a master tightrope artist could. Soon he'd disappeared into the canopy, and the only sign of his passing was a bare rustling that could just as easily have been the wind.

The Jade Stream

I could post if necessary but I thought it'd be better to wait on Vita.