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Found 13 results

  1. Wasted Safety

    "War... is nice. War is a simple thing. You have allies and enemies, and civilians. You protect the civilians, you kill the enemies, you follow your orders... your commanding officer's orders nearly get you killed. Then, if somehow your squad survives long enough, your commanding officer gets promoted despite being a moron" That's a bit of satire soldiers used to share over the dinner table. Not anymore though. Most people don't even know what satire is. They literally don't know the meaning of the word. And they don't bother to find out either. They weren't always like this though. Used to be that society was a very controversial argumentative thing. There was tell of a thing called opinions, which would spark said arguments all the time. People thinking they were right, other people trying to prove them wrong. Eventually the latter would give up because usually the former were too stupid and stubborn to admit to their mistake. Most people would say that's bad. But is it worse than how it is now? Who knows. Not a lot of the ones from those times are alive to remember and complain how things used to be better. Now the young inherit what's left of the world while the old sit back in their rickety chairs in the dark, mumbling to each other. But who cares about the old anyway? Nobody, that's who. So let's look at young ones. One example would be Colonel Gilmore Floyd. Don't let the rank fool you, it just means he's a slice above the rest. It doesn't really mean anything but it's meant to make people feel good about themselves. Plus, military service is always good if you want a special privilege or two here and there. But let's not digress more than we have already. His more or less easy, patrol, peace-keeping, etc. And it just so happened that today, he had to interrogate a bunch of prisoners they had captured. Insurgents or raiders or something. Not that there's really a difference. He put on his jacket and his cap and left his office at the military camp where he worked. It was more of a booth to be frank but anyways. He went to the interrogation cage where most prisoners are put in temporary confinement. In reality it was an old zoo cage with a bit of newspaper padding on the ground and barbed wire horizontally wound around the bars due to cutbacks. Not that anyone seemed to complain. Aside from the prisoners themselves, of course.
  2. The nights in Anna Mizo are stiflingly hot and its affects are strange on the people here. Babes are restless. The maids spill the milk. The husbands eyes wanders. The wives remain in bed, motionless. Some walk aimless around the small island, bumping into one another in dark, and sudden splashes of crimson permeate the air. Something sounds upon the ground. The birds scream in the trees and the ocean remains quiet. "I have given up on this pathetic human experience," someone calls from the midst of dark, and the birds do not scream, but they weep. The clouds are a blushing gray and ash falls from them — the winds, yes, the winds, lift the dew from grass. They drop blood into the sea. It is a clean, empty process, of earth cleaning its children, sweeping them into disuse. Orchids grow from them—spilled ichor, red earth—and spread pollen. The air is always thick and heavy with ocean and cedar musk and vanilla. The wind quietens and the neighbors crumble into hysterics, the walls are bathe in their blood. There are quick successions of suicide rates. The sounds of miniature thunder sounds — and then, the rains come. They come in heavy sounds. I digress: the winds pick up and the rains are swept like music — the husbands, they roam the island with cocks hard with temptation and the maids creamy buttocks are lifted towards their eyes. The wives say nothing and the babies scream with the birds. It seems it is all is inevitable. While they are filled to the brim in abject loneliness and celebrated angst, I become lost in the rushing scenery, of verdant trees washed white from moonlight. Here, in the low dark, in the summer monsoon, there are minutes where a nomad seduces, the linger of finger in the inside shelter of thighs, a savage grunt of satisfaction, there are hours where a man becomes a beast, where soft flesh like cream parts for the red sea of blood, and his prey slumps into a slumber less sweet than their fucking. It has been three years, since a woman, mauled, half-naked, her spine white and gleaming in moonlight, had been found. Who you are is important enough. A detective from the states, transferred to the island hidden in the fog of the Atlantic, to escape the horror of your last case. Whatever haunts you will not find reprieve in this quiet, sea-burdened community; you'll find there are plenty of washed bones of disquieted ghosts. Genre: Mature, Adult, Horror, Preternatural, Realistic, Dark, and Freeform. Other: Any gender requested. Your character: I have no present silhouette of how I expect your character to behave or appear, but they are creative, witty, and erotic. There are many variations available in the plot. I have constructed it without tight confines for the reason I wish for you to have equal input. Though, there are a few givens: the first, there is supernatural element to my character; they are much different from those around. This holds dark overtones as the interaction is physical and extensive. I expect there to be perverse comments, biting commentary, and incongruous collaborations between them. Specifics: Plotwise, set in Anna Mizo, an imaginary island who's flowers, referred to as Blood Orchids, often cause residents to hallucinate. They appear as lillies with soft round ends. You, being new to the island, are suspectible to its effects. Our characters cross paths for the first time, at the edge of the forest. There is something settling about my character to your human senses - a secret, a curse, you will have an unfortunate experience with. Skeleton: (should include the following in detail) Name ☾ Age ☾ Bio ☾Quirks ☾[1 ]Photograph ☾Opening Post ☾Theme Song
  3. Lionel hit the ground running. Above him, lightning arced across the night sky, causing the air to crackle with energy in the aftermath of the spell. Lionel cursed, ducking into another abandoned alleyway as he heard the sounds of heavy footsteps across the brick rooftops behind him. Lightning magic was a very efficient way to kill someone - fast, lethal and nearly undodgeable. So far, he had gotten off from the fact that the man had terrible aiming, especially under the cover of darkness, but he doubted that fate would be so kind to him for much longer. Since when has fate been kind to you? Nala'hedriel scoffed. He discarded the staff he'd been carrying around - his disguise had been blown anyway. Peeking out of his corner, Lionel took a moment to make sure that the road was clear before dashing out once again, heading towards one of the many safehouses he had arranged in this town... But once again he felt a familiar tingling sensation across his skin, allowing him to narrowly avoid the bolt of lightning that shot past his right elbow. His hunter stood behind him as he spun around, fingers extended out in a handgun-esque gesture as a grin extended from his grizzled face. "Checkmate, Zero." The spell-hunter fired another bolt of lightning. Darkness leapt from the shadows around Lionel, throwing themselves in front of him, attracted by the sudden burst of magical energy. The lightning bolt hit the wall of darkness squarely in the middle, striking with all the force needed to smash straight through a concrete wall - and vanished in a burst of blue light. The shadows fell away, revealing Lionel's grim expression as he stared back at his assailant. "Yes, checkmate," he replied. "For you." Lionel crossed the distance between them in an instant, but the spell-hunter was skilled. He drew his sword, swinging it with swift, expert strikes directed at Lionel's neck. He must have been some sort of fencing master, Lionel decided, barely moving out of the way each time the sword came darting forwards, while the spell-hunter moved back, maintaining arms-length distance between them. Lunge, step, slash, step. It was all like a carefully choreographed dance between the two of them, but the uncertainty soon began to show on the spell-hunter's face. Obviously, he wasn't used to having his prey put up so much resistance at close range. It's the superspeed, Nala'hedriel drawled. It always gets them, every time. His defense faltered for a split second, but it was enough. Lionel sent a punch into his gut, causing him to flinch and recoil backwards. He grabbed the man's sword arm and gave it a sharp twist; the weapon fell to the ground after a cry of pain. A punch to the face, a strike in the chest, and the man was sent reeling onto the ground. Three ribs broken, Lionel noted. He'll have difficulty breathing. He bent down, grabbing the spell-hunter by his collar as he lifted the man up face to face. "Who sent you?" Lionel snarled. "How do you know the name Zero?" The spell-hunter laughed, a hearty laugh that caused him to cough up a bubble of blood. "Your past haunts you, homunculus. You will never be free of it." Something shifted within the man as he continued laughing, his head lolling back at the sky. Lionel threw him onto the ground by reflex, shadows flying to his arms... But no magical assault came. The man continued his hysterical laughter as his flesh began to melt away, sizzling under the influence of his own spell until there was nothing left of the man except his skeleton. And the sinister black pendant that lay inside. The Circle of Dead. Lionel Descartes woke up with a gasp. Dancing with Death A private RP between TriOctium and Ice. Cold sweat rolled down Lionel's forehead as he pushed himself out of bed, groaning. A bowl of water with a towel had been prepared on the table, and he gratefully used it to wipe his face as last night's dream continued to play over and over in his head. Dreams are a privilege, he reminded himself, remembering the days when he had spent each night in utter silence, his body resting yet not fully asleep. Even so, being haunted by events that happened months ago was nothing to scoff about, and it took Lionel a few moments to calm his nerves down. What's the matter, chuckles? Nala'hedriel asked. Had a bad night? "Nothing for you to be concerned about," he muttered in response. For all their mind-reading abilities, Lionel had learned early on that T'Skarin were notably unable to share dreams with their hosts. It was one of the many strange things about his 'symbiotic' relationship with Nala'hedriel, the T'Skarin Prince of Shadows. Judging by the sunlight, it was time for him to set off. He threw on a cloak and his pair of sandals, grabbed his cane lying by the bedside and left the room for breakfast. The Dancing Sword Inn was a quiet place in the mornings, a sharp contrast with the noisy scene it had been last night. One of the tables was still lying on the floor in the far corner, broken glass all around it. Lionel ignored that scene, taking his seat near the bar instead as Zoraida came out with a hunk of bread and a flagon of wine. "You don' look too well, son," the middle-aged barmaid commented. "You feelin' alright?" "I'm alright. Thanks for asking." Lionel took a large bite out of the bread, then winced at the stale taste. "Well, if you say so." Zoraida took a look around the mostly empty inn before leaning closer to his ear. "Did you hear? The Baron's been killed. In his own castle, too!" Lionel choked slightly on his beer, putting down the flagon slowly. "Last night?" Zoraida nodded with a serious expression on her face. "There's been a big hassle in the morning. Mageknights coming here from the capital an' everything. I was quite surprised when you didn't wake up from all the ruckus!" Lionel's stomach turned. He hadn't had many good experiences with mageknights, the so-called defenders of the common folk. But a Baron being assassinated... that was big news. And perhaps too much of a coincidence. Satisfied that she had shared the news, Zoraida glided back into the kitchen, leaving Lionel alone with his thoughts. ... A small crowd had already gathered before the Baron's castle, though none dared to attempt to push past the line of mageknights that had been formed around the main entrance. Their efforts were mostly futile; at this distance there was absolutely nothing to look at, except perhaps the castle's wonderfully kept garden of flowers. Lionel made his way around the boundary, passing by several more mageknights stationed along the west wall before he reached a more secluded spot. The only reason why no guards were positioned here was because a humongous wall, towering nearly three metres in height, blocked the way into the castle. Lionel knelt down, feeling around at the base of the wall. Within seconds he located the alarm spell that would have triggered should anyone actually succeed in vaulting over the wall, and sent the tiniest bit of his own shadow into the magic circuitry as it fizzled and died out. Not enough to cancel the spell permanently, but enough to stop it for a minute or two. Stepping back, he took a deep breath before performing a running jump - soaring just high enough to land feet-first on top of the wall. And with that, he was in. His landing was softened by the grass underfoot, and he quickly moved into one of the side doors as he made his way deeper into the castle. Voices echoed across the empty hallways, its premises having been vacated because of its owner's death. Lionel moved past a large dining hall, ducking out just in time as a clanking mageknight in white armor marched past, then slipping behind him and continuing towards the Baron's bedroom. He'd only been here once before, through the same way. But the layout of the castle was easy to remember, and Lionel found himself tracing the same steps he had made all those weeks ago. Just as he got into one of the waiting rooms, he felt cold steel press against his neck. "Don't move, Lionel." The voice was very familiar. Lionel put up his hands in surrender, allowing himself to be pushed against the wall and turned around to face the newcomer: a messy-haired Inquisitor with a sharp nose and a blade in each hand. "Fancy meeting you here, Jarrod," Lionel greeted with a nervous laugh. "I knew they were going to put an Inquisitor on the case. But I didn't expect them to send you." Jarrod didn't have the optimistic smile Lionel remembered from five years ago. His face looked grizzled, more hardened by recent events. "You shouldn't have come here, Lionel. I was hoping it wasn't you... but you being here is only going to implicate you in matters further." Lionel raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that I was the one who killed the Baron?" Jarrod didn't answer, simply staring straight at him for a moment. Then, with a great sigh, he lowered his sword from his neck, sheathing it slowly. "No, you don't have any reason to go around killing Barons. At least, not that I've discovered," the Inquisitor explained, slowly pacing around the room. "But that still isn't enough to stop you from being my prime suspect." "Why? Why am I the prime suspect?" "Because the assassin canceled the Baron's magic."
  4. "And remember to cut your hair by next week, Raiha-kun," Akira concluded, just as the bell signalling the end of homeroom sounded. "To repeat myself, those of you who are good at drawing can consider joining the Art Club. We will start our activities after school today." From within his briefcase, he produced a bunch of flyers with pictures of famous artists photoshopped together, with the caption 'ARTISTS UNITE!!! JOIN THE ART CLUB TODAY!!!' emblazoned on the top as well as several details on how to locate the Art Room at the bottom. Only those who could see Demons or the supernatural would also notice the luminescent blue words, scrawled across the middle as though it had been drawn with a finger. "Demon Hunters Wanted." "Class dismissed." Akira gave the students a quick bow as they stood up in unison and did likewise, bursting into chatter as he retrieved his briefcase and headed out of the room. Locating the various noticeboards positioned all across the school, he put up more of those flyers on each of them. Being a relief teacher, he didn't have many lessons to take charge of, and had quite a lot of free time, in fact. Enough to give Mitsuba a quick search, in fact. Loosening his tie, Akira headed out of the school gates. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hellmouths are huge, often cavernous tears in the fabric of reality, linking our mortal realm with that of the demonic world. Being located in between realms, even power users and practitioners of magic cannot normally see it. They can, however, locate certain hotspots around the Hellmouth where the fabric of reality is particularly weak, with the proper detection spells and know-how. These hotspots are normally located in areas less populated by humans, as they give out a sense of dread and fear that even ordinary mortals can feel; the sense of something watching you, giving you goosebumps and causing your hair to stand on end. This was one such hotspot. A lone man stumbled into the dusty room, clutching his head as though he was in terrible pain. "The pain... take it away! I can't take it anymore! Please! KILL ME!!" He collapsed onto the hard stone floor, as a dark shadow loomed over his fallen figure. "Please..." he could still be heard mumbling. "I don't want to give in to the voices..." The robed figure crouched down, running a hand through the man's hair. "Hush now. Everything will be alright. Soon, it will all be over." As he stroked the man's hair, it seemed to get longer and bushier. In fact, the man's entire body seemed to be sprouting hair as it metamorphosed into a more lupine shape, and soon his mumblings became low-pitched and incoherent, the words merging into rumbling growls. Within minutes, there was no trace of the man any longer, only a wolf that lay obediently at the feet of the robed figure. "You will be rewarded for your obedience," said the figure. The wolf slowly stood up, shaking its fur as it glanced up into the eyes of the figure. "Go now. There is work to be done." Wordlessly, the wolf turned and bounded out of the room, headed for the destination that had been imprinted into its head. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was already late afternoon when Akira arrived back in the compound of Mitsuba No. 1 High School, and students were already streaming towards their various club locations or heading out the school gates. He quickly headed up to room 02-11, where a sign labelled 'Art Room' could be seen on the front door. Below that, the same luminescent blue words 'Demon Hunters Wanted' had been painted over the door. He smiled, entered the room, and took a seat, waiting for the first student to arrive.
  5. To all of you battle-lovers out there, today is your lucky day! Have you ever wondered how you might effectively gauge the power level of your character versus another RPer's character? Do you want to have a place that provides you the arena and the excuse to allow your characters to fight to their hearts' content against opponents of similar power levels? Then look no further! We proudly present to you... THE DIMENSIONAL SCHISM version "Nodding Chimpanzee" Legend tells of a lord that rules over the gaps between worlds, where the very fabric of reality itself is twisted and turned in more ways than a pretzel. It is there that time stands still, where heroes are made and legends come to die. It is known by many names: the End of the Universe, the Gap Between the Worlds, the Dimensional Schism. The Lord of the Schism grows weary from time to time, and may summon the strongest warriors it can find from across the planes, pitting them against one another for his own entertainment, like some divine form of the ancient Roman gladiatorial matches. Few know how the Lord came to possess such power, but even fewer have the strength to overcome it. The only way back home for most of these warriors is to fight, and to live. But who knows? The Lord is known to have granted new life to heroes who fell valiantly in battle for him. All is not lost, even if you may fall to the blade of your opponent. Battles in the Dimensional Schism are classified into various leagues, depending on the strength of the warrior. The leagues are listed as follows: Lightweight - Every character possesses some form of ability to harm others for self-defense. Anything from a street thug to a trained soldier will be considered as Lightweights.Hero - Once in a while, Heroes will emerge from the shadows to battle the darkness that plagues their world. Heroes usually possess a wide variety of physical, magical and/or scientific abilities which directly or indirectly aid them in combat. They are well known for their innate potential as well as their unpredictability in fights. Main characters usually fall under this league.Paragon - Whether by natural talent or through years of experience, Paragon fighters have become the best in their areas of speciality. Whether it be an Arch Mage capable of raining hellfire upon his foes or an elite Ghost notorious for being able to infiltrate the most highly guarded prison in the universe, Paragons never fail to impress. Most final forms of villains fall under this category, as well as the mentors of Heroes, or perhaps those who were once Heroes but have learned to hone their abilities to perfection.Legend - At the very end of their life's journey, Paragons usually ascend into Legendhood by performing one, final great task that seals their names into the rest of history. By this time, Legends usually have already learnt all they need to learn from the world, and have perfected their respective skills. Their names are passed down in reverence or terrified whispers by those who come after them, and are respected and feared as one of the few who have the power to shape the world.Immortal - A whole league apart from even the Legends, Immortals are the gods who rule over their realms. They often possess varying degrees of omniscience, omnipresence and/or omnipotence, and can display unimaginable degrees of power at their slightest whim. The Lord of the Schism rarely summons Immortals to do battle for him, but when he does, the echoes of the resulting conflict can be felt across the dimensions. The strongest of Immortals may even challenge the Lord himself. However, this will only be done under the Lord’s rulings (ie. you can only battle the Lord of the Schism in Regulated mode). STATS Every character has stats in some form or another, be it in numerical form or simply through descriptions. Through the Stats system, we hope to provide to you a simple and efficient method of creating your characters, be it for battle RPs or simply for fun. How to allocate stats (Casual Mode): This mode is for people who simply wish to use this system as a rough guideline. Casual Mode is the easiest mode and has no restrictions or numbers whatsoever. However it is also the most varied mode, and the balancing of battles is not guaranteed. Using numbers is not required in Casual Mode. You may choose to describe your character's stats instead; for example, "Marvin can lift a car easily." Strength: How strong your character is. Agility: How fast your character reacts to changes around them. Arcana: How attuned your character is to magical energies. Technology: How much your character utilizes technology to enhance their battle abilities. Defense: How well your character takes hits. Energy: How long your character can sustain high-powered physical attacks. Mana: How long your character can sustain high-powered magical attacks. Weapons: Any special weapons your character uses. Abilities: Any unique abilities your character uses. How to allocate stats (Standard Mode): This mode involves numbers for the sake of balancing purposes, but that does not mean that it is difficult to understand. We have made every effort to ensure that even Standard Mode is simple and user-friendly. In Standard Mode, your battles are likely to be more balanced, and some site tournaments in the future may only allow characters created using Standard Mode. Please note that once you've created a character in Standard Mode, you can easily switch it back to Casual Mode and vice versa, depending on what you feel like doing at the point of time! TIERS For the sake of balancing battles, or to simply help you in categorizing your characters, you may use our Tier system. It classifies characters into various power levels, which will hopefully allow you to locate opponents of similar power levels to battle or RP with. Tier Requirements (Casual Mode): The simplest form of classification, these requirements are meant to help you. If your character meets any one or more of the requirements, he/she is put under that tier automatically. Requirements to be a Hero: If you meet any one or more of these requirements, you are placed in the Hero tier: Possess Arcana (magic or psychic abilities) of any sort Have access to Technology beyond what has currently been invented Have Strength, Agility, Defense and/or Endurance that surpasses what normal humans can achieve through hard work or diligent training Have a Weapon with unique abilities that are not found in other weapons of its type Have an Ability which is unobtainable by regular humans even by hard work or diligent training Requirements to be a Paragon: If you meet any one or more of these requirements, you are placed in the Paragon tier: Is considered a high-level Arcana user even among other characters in the same universe Possess Technology that will only be available within 40 years of the future Have Strength, Agility, Defense and/or Energy that is at least 10 times greater than the maximum limit which normal humans can achieve Have a Weapon which is considered one-of-a-kind AND possesses power far superior even to other unique weapons possessed by Heroes Have 5 or more Abilities which are unobtainable by regular humans even by hard work or diligent training Have an Ability which is considered to be rare or difficult to get in the character’s home world, and has honed this Ability to near-perfection Is generally capable of holding his own ground easily against a group of 50 Lightweights or 5 Heroes. Requirements to be a Legend: If you meet any one or more of these requirements, you are placed in the Legend tier: Is considered one of the best Arcana users in his realm Possess Technology that will only be available within 90 years of the future Have Strength, Agility, Defense and/or Energy that is at least 20 times greater than the maximum limit which normal humans can achieve Have at least 2 Weapons which is considered one-of-a-kind AND possesses power far superior even to other unique weapons possessed by Heroes Have 10 or more Abilities which are unobtainable by regular humans even by hard work or diligent training Have 3 or more Abilities which is considered to be rare or difficult to get in the character’s home world, and has honed this Ability to near-perfection Is generally capable of holding his own ground easily against a group of 100 Lightweights, 10 Heroes or 2 Paragons. Requirements to be an Immortal: If you meet any one or more of these requirements, you are placed in the Immortal tier: Is considered a god of Arcana users Possess Technology that is considered to be scientifically impossible or hundreds of years into the future Effectively possess limitless Strength, Agility, Defense and/or Energy. Have a Weapon or Ability which renders the user invulnerable or semi-invulnerable to non-Immortal sources of damage Have any form of omnipresence, omniscience or omnipotence at any level. Is able to bring themselves back to life for any number of times. Is generally capable of holding his own ground easily against a group of endless Lightweights, 200 Heroes or 20 Paragons. Tier Requirements (Standard Mode): The difference in Standard Mode is the addition of numbers. Otherwise, all qualitative requirements remain the same. MISCELLANEOUS NOTES (AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS) The Excellent Wise HeavyHurricane first provided the spark of inspiration which started off this whole project, when she mentioned how great it would be to have a consistent battle RP format like in the good old S*T days. After that, the Eminent Mate-worthy NightRealist helped me to dig out Malgen Soyasu's old Lightweight League details from the Trash Bin of the old site. That was real nice of him, cuz the Trash Bin was really smelly and none of us could even go near it. After that the Minute Shantastic Noiala and the Mean Bean Sean helped out too in the initial planning of the system, and together, the 5 of us finally managed to produce this final result. Consider it a greatly simplified and expanded version of Malgen Soyasu's original Lightweight League. I hope it's easy enough for anyone and everyone to simply pick it up and use it for their characters! I've designed the point system to be as flexible as possible, so you should be able to use it to classify your characters even if they aren't usually participating in battle RPs! The purpose of the Dimensional Schism is to give RPers a platform for them to craft stories of their characters battling other heroes from alternate realms, while remaining in-universe as much as possible. It is completely up to you if you wish to use these battles as part of your character's ongoing story, if you tend to reuse the same characters repeatedly. Hopefully, the classification system will allow you to find opponents of similar power levels, so that you will get a fair fight. This is not meant to be a single RP. It is meant as a template for everyone to use in any battle RPs they wish to hold in the future. Feel free to use the setting of the Dimensional Schism in your own personal RPs! Oh, but do inform us if you want to make any major changes or tweaks to the system. Feel free to ask any questions that you might have! CHANGELOG Version Nodding Chimpanzee:
  6. Aftermath Story idea

    Hey guys. This is just an idea that I had that might be worth sharing. Some of you might have seen this one in an earlier thread I made. Just following HH's advice and making a separate thread for each of said ideas. The end of the world has come and gone. This is a post apocalyptic scenario. Strangely, a large number of the population just vanished, up and disappeared. Those that have remained have to try and survive. However, since the apocalypse has happened, the rules have very much changed. Demons are now free to roam the land and do as they see fit. Angels by the hordes have been left behind, and they'll act as they feel they should, without the guidance of their lord. Fairy and magical creatures now see Earth as their new playground. The undead walk the earth (and even have their own civilizations). Super advance technology is now suddenly being discovered, excavated, and being made use of. All races are, for the most part, doing as they see fit, be it benign or malign. Humanity will have to do all they can to survive in this new world. One human in particular, obsessed with solving mysteries, wants to know why this happened, and he is on his way to the center of where the apocalypse began in order to solve this mission. I was pretty proud of this one when I thought of it a long time ago. I still love this idea, but recently I've noticed that it felt like something straight out of Shin Megumi Tensei, or something similar to it. So... make of that what you will. Taking into account opinions/suggestions made by Heatherroneous and HH from the earlier thread I made, it does seem like a lot to take in, so this will be done in an episodic/story arc style, to give each race a chance in the limelight and help figure out how the fit in with this new world now that the rules have been drastically changed. Players can be from any of the races, though. Whether they join up with the one human trying to solve this mystery or not is up to the individual players. If you have any questions or suggestions, please let me know! I'll try to set up more information and edit this page as I go along, so input and critique is very much appreciated.
  7. It was a hot day. Large crowds of foreign dignitaries milled into the stadium, eagerly chattering away in anticipation of the show that was about to be performed in front of their very eyes. Soldiers in towering suits of metal and kevlar stood by the various entrances, hefting impressive guns as a warning to anyone who might threaten to disturb the peace. It was of utmost importance that nothing went wrong today, for it was the unveiling of the United States's latest superweapon to the world. ExoSuit ESX-58, "Spectre". It had been nearly 15 years since the megacorporation, FutureTech Industries, revealed the first ExoSuit. Even back then, it was an astounding breakthrough in technology, providing innumerable advantages to the average soldier. Super strength, enhanced battlefield awareness and invulnerability to conventional firearms were three of its numerous selling points. The ExoSuit changed the landscape of war, rendering traditional strategies and weaponry useless. The US and Chinese militaries imported vast numbers of these ExoSuits, hoping to equip every soldier with one by the year 2050. Since then, there have been countless improvements made to the original ExoSuit, with each country going on its own developmental path to create their unique breed of super soldier. Demonstrations such as these were a show of might, a way of waging war without harming lives. Deterrence, in a way. That was the reason why so many world leaders were gathered at Phoenix, Arizona to witness the demonstration this day. It would take a fool to interrupt such a heavily-guarded event. "AS-08X, Seraph Excalibur, in position. Operation Ghostbuster will commence in T-minus 10 seconds. 9. 8. 7..." As the applause from the audience began to fill the air, a lone figure moved out of the shadows and approached the entrance to the grand stadium. It resembled an ExoSuit in a way, but its features were more sleek, almost alien-like. Streaks of blue light trailed behind the suit reminiscent of wings, and the suit hovered in the air, its feet just a few inches off the ground. The guards on duty raised their gauss rifles, training them upon the newcomer with honed lethality. "Halt! Identify yourself!" One of them spoke, as he slowly approached the figure. The other seemed to be speaking into a microphone, presumably calling for reinforcements. The figure halted, allowing the soldier to reach within arms' length. "Turn around and put your hands up- hey!" Moving faster than the eye could see, the Seraph Excalibur darted to the right as the soldier in the ES-22 "Gallant" suit fired off a few rounds, turning around to follow its movements. As the soldier raised his gun, there was a flash and an arc of light, and then his arm lay severed on the ground, the gauss rifle landing with a great crash. He barely had time to scream, however, as the next slash took his head cleanly off, leaving him to kneel down and collapse in a pool of blood. "Mayday! Mayday! Unknown hostile at entrance 15! We need backup- AAARGGHH!" The Seraph Excalibur pulled the plasma blade out of the soldier's abdomen, dropping his corpse onto the ground with a lazy action. "Going in," the man in the suit whispered. The whole stadium was in disarray now, as the sounds of the battle outside reached some of the audience. More soldiers were running here and there, evidently attempting to control the situation as they dispatched more men to the scene. Their reactions were too slow. The Seraph Excalibur flew into the middle of the stage, where the new suit was located. The Spectre. To the pilot's credit, he seemed pretty calm despite all the confusion in the area. As the newcomer floated down to meet him, he raised a large pistol and pointed it straight at his forehead. "I don't know who you are, buddy, but you picked the wrong place to make a scene," he declared. "By doing this, you have incurred the wrath of the entire United States upon yourself. Not that you'll be alive for much longer. I am, after all, Richard Stone, one of America's ace pilots, in my country's most advanced ExoSuit. I don't know how your magic suit can maintain propulsion for so long, but it's not going to save you from me." About twenty guns were trained on him at this point of time, with the soldiers forming a wide arc around the dome-shaped stage. "... You're noisy." A vein popped in Richard's head. "What did you say?! Who the hell do you think you are anyway?!" His finger pulled the trigger- The Seraph had weaved to the side, a plasma blade extending from each hand as it advanced upon his adversary. Immediately, every soldier on the scene opened fire, but not a single shot found its mark. Whether by skill or ungodly luck, the Seraph was moving in fluid motions that avoided each bullet as it approached, rapidly advancing upon the Spectre as it tried to retreat to gain distance. Impossible, Richard thought, as he emptied his pistol's magazine at him in vain. Such speed! It's as though he can see where I'm going to fire... With a burst of light, the Seraph appeared next to him in an instant. Richard barely had time to react, whipping his hand away as the MC-198 Magnum he was holding dropped to the ground in pieces. He swore, reaching for the next weapon- but he felt a searing pain and a violent shock, and then he noticed the gaping hole where his arm was supposed to be. A hand grabbed him by the neck, and he felt himself being raised up into the air as it became difficult to breathe... He noticed the firing had stopped. Did someone else take out the soldiers? But Richard had more pressing matters at hand, as he struggled to wrestle himself free from the Seraph's iron grip. He realized the whole stadium had become silent, as all eyes were fixated on the scene in the center of the stage. The Seraph reached over to his suit, plucking out the microphone that was attached to the stadium's loudspeakers and moved it to his mouth. "I am Vengeance." And then he snapped Richard's neck.
  8. R Gangland

    Having lived in Wolfdale for his entire life he had grown accustomed to the many problems of this big city. He had grown to accept it all; social inequality, the polarity between the rich and the poor, daily gang violence, corrupt politicians and law enforcements, staggering crime rates and high unemployment rate. Despite all of the social issues permeating Wolfdale Luca had grown to love this city more than anything else in this world. Too bad the weather was awful, though. He could accept the social issues, believing that one day he would find a way to solve many of the problems that plagued the city, but even with the influence of the Leone family it would be an impossible task for him to ever solve the constantly gloomy grey skies, unless he became rich enough to be able to fund a dome that would cover the entire city with an artificial sky, but even then he doubted that would be enough to solve remedy all of the pollution. For now he would have to deal with it. Dressed in one of his expensive black suits and equally expensive beige trench coat he walked through the crowded shopping district of Wolfdale. Many expensive boutiques were situated in the northern, wealthy side of the city and helped make the district one of the more popular hangout spots for the people who could afford to be here. The streets were filled with couples, most of them probably on their way to some kind of fancy restaurant for their date, as was usual for a Friday evening. The single Luca couldn’t help but be a bit jealous of all the public displays of affection happening around him, but it would be extremely uncool if he showed any interest in them regardless of whether it was envy or annoyance. After walking for a while he entered a street packed with restaurants and cafes. For now it was still filled with lovebirds on their way to dinner, but in a few hours this location would change and they’d be replaced with drunk twentysomethings partying till the break of dawn. He never understood the point. Slowly pacing through the street he examined the many establishments he passed by until he arrived at an Italian restaurant. He stepped into the restaurant and was greeted by its mixed modern and rustic interior. In the far back of the establishment was a wine bar with hundreds of different kinds of wine decorating the wine rack behind the counter. The bartender, dressed in the typical black trousers, white dress shirt, black waistcoat and black bowtie stopped polishing a wineglass to greet Luca with a wave. Luca nodded in acknowledgement and weaved through the crowded restaurant, attempting not to bump into the many occupied tables before taking a seat on a barstool. The bartender grabbed a cognac glass from under the counter and poured Courvoisier in until Luca signaled for him to stop. “Is Ennio here?†Luca took a sip of his cognac as the bartender shook his head. “Still not back from the Family meeting, huh? He never could stand meeting with the Heads of the other Families. He’s late.†Luca gulped down the remainder of the cognac before stepping through the door with a ‘Staff Only’ label to enter the kitchen. The chefs all took a moment to greet him before he stepped into the office belonging to Ennio. He shoved his black leather gloves into his coat’s pockets and hung it up on the coatrack before sitting down on Ennio’s expensive leather chair. After taking a quick spin and stretching his limbs to relax he reached out for the telephone and started dialing the number of Ennio’s cellphone. Once he heard the ringback tone he placed the phone back in its socket to put it on speaker, allowing him to spin around in the chair freely while the ringback tone assured him that Ennio had not picked up yet. Luca shrugged and simply started reading through the paper Ennio had left on his desk. The Don was most likely busy with something and knowing Ennio he’d call back soon. A man who hates being kept waiting doesn’t like to keep other people waiting on him, which was probably Ennio’s only good trait. After a few minutes Luca decided to try again, no answer, and again, no answer. By the third attempt he was starting to get worried, after the fifth attempt worry was replaced by dread and the attempt after that solidified Luca’s belief that something had to be wrong. Ennio would never ignore two calls in a row, let alone six. He stood up, dashed for his coat, pulled his smartphone out of his inner pocket and started writing an email directed at the underboss and the Family’s many caporegimes. “Ennio is missing. Find him, asap.†Send. It didn’t take long before many of them replied. They were confused and wanted to know what was going on, but Luca’s pounding heart and vicious headache made it hard for him to concentrate normally, let alone focus enough to want to deal with all these questions. “No questions. Just find him!†He placed his elbows on the desk and started moving his fingers through his hair while taking deep slow breaths to calm himself down. His fingers rested on the back of his neck as his gaze lingered on the floor. He had to know what was going on, but on the other hand he was terrified of what he would hear once one of the capos called him back.
  9. NC-17 Fixers

    Outskirts of Pyongyang, 2200 local time. There was a time when missions like this were executed exclusively by the military, but that was in an age long passed and the days of the ordinary soldier performing highly volatile tasks are long gone. Simply forking over a heap of cash to the Foundation just to successfully accomplish one’s goals, as is guaranteed when enlisting the aid of those like Elijah, had proven to be worth it in the long run when the uncertainties of failure no longer hamper one’s decision making. Elijah pressed a button on his earpiece and a faint buzzing sound resonated in his eardrum. “All callsigns, this is Thanatos. Confirm you’re in position, over.†One by one his four Fixer colleagues called out their callsigns followed by an affirmative. “Standby.†Elijah moved away from the cover of the tree and moved several meters closer to before dropping on his belly. The two soldiers under his direct supervision followed his lead. He took a peek through his binoculars to examine the heavily guarded military base they were sent to strike. American spies had uncovered that the North-Koreans were up to something silly again. He had been examining the patterns of the patrolling guards and the searchlights for a while and had decided that their best opportunity to strike would be now. “All callsigns, this is Thanatos, approach in t-minus thirty seconds.†Everyone had their jobs, everyone knew what to do. All that was left for them was to get into a heavily guarded military base, eliminate all enemies and get out as soon as possible. “4, 3, 2, 1.†Elijah and the two Americans hopped to their feet, walked towards the base with their rifles ready to fire and approached the chain-link fence. One of the Americans grabbed a wire cutter from his pouch and proceeded to create a hole in the fence large enough for them to fit through while Elijah and the other soldiers stood guard. The trio passed through the hole in the fence and followed Elijah as he led them to the back of a large container to remain out of sight. There were no gunshots to be heard, this had to mean that everyone had managed to infiltrate without getting caught. The Foundation could make quite some money by offering North Korea their security services; these Korean soldiers were ass at it. He waited for 10 seconds before initiating contact with the other Fixers. “All callsigns, this is Thanatos, commence operation.†After receiving confirmation from everyone he gave the two soldiers next to him the okay and the three of them moved, ready to begin the strike op.
  10. Closed This is all based off of a dream that I had, and that is a reason there is a lot of vague descriptions and information. That and I wish for you, my partner, to help design the entire rp too. This isn't just my idea, I want it to be yours too. About me and my choice of RPing. I provide as much information as possible given the situation. I can write as much as you can and or more, again situation permitting. I write at the NC17 rating. There is always going to be nudity, blood, gore, violence, sexual scenes/moments, language etc. I don't write with or for the shy. If you wanna explore Neferteri's realm, c'mere I'll break you in. I want my partners to be honest, write how they feel their character is and who they are. I want you to do whatever the hell it is you want to do, given respects to what we discuss and obvious logical details/info. I want you to explore every inch of feeling and possibility with the character you design with me. I'm looking for a male role to be filled. In a world where the birth of a child, and then its death after birth can create an unhappy spirit . . . it happens during one birth to a king and queen. The queen had two daughters and only one lived beyond birth. Her second, which died shortly after birth lingered in the realm of the living. She was very unhappy, displeased, so upset. Her sister had survived, why she did not know, and she had died. Her twin sister would live and know the warmth of her mother and father. She would never get to experience any of that. Had she been able to move on she might have been born again into such a situation. Instead the spirit of twin daughter chose to remain with the inability to move on like most new born deaths. During that time in which she clung to the living's realm she was relentless in what she did to her living twin. Always lashing out at her in, as seen in the livings realm, unnatural ways. There was always a dark presence chasing after the living daughter. This persisted for a solid five years after the daughters birth. It was after the fifth year that she turned up missing. No one knew who or what had witched away their daughter. There was endless finger pointing, claims, accusations and a war almost broke out between neighboring kingdoms and lords with their ownership in the kingdoms lands. Who and or what that took the princess away has been an unsolved mystery and whisper on the kingdoms breath for fourteen years now. The lore in this world is mostly centered around spirits, spiritual occurrences, demons and the such. Not so much in the physical form, but more so they exist as an essence. Not that they can't be physical creatures, they can. Its just that they're not all that level of strength, so most remain the misty, see through, vague image of a figure kind of existence in the livings realm. I'm open to ideas and suggestions that do go beyond this pin pointed lore focus though. I will provide what very little idea and design I have/had for your character during the dream. However you are NOT forced to this idea. It is simply what I came up with and admit I do like it and felt it fit well with the atmosphere of the story/world. A basic man, normal hunter living day to day. In your, our world, there is an additional lore to the existence of spirits and demons. It, he, is an unknown spirit of the forest. I'll bow down and completely credit Princess Mononoke's Forest Spirit to this worlds ''forest spirit'' design. However he, it, is human in stature and wears a kind of antler head ornament. Some thing that he actually has horns growing from his head. He only wears leggings made of rough leather design, pelts in front and of the backside against him. His boots are held against his caves with a long leather thong lacing up from his angles to before the knee. That kind of image. I saw your character, not knowing since his birth of course, actually being the son of this unknown forest spirit. He would also be the one, obviously, to discover my own character. The Forest Spirit is the one who safely guided the king and queens daughter away from the evil entity that plagued her all those years. This detail is something we will have to discuss and work out between us, as I have more thoughts and information attached to it that my lucky partner will be given. You are in no way confined to this idea above. That is all it is and was, an idea. You are welcome to resource it, go along with it, edit it and make it super sexy for me. I need a sexy savior k? ;< I understand at this point there isn't much of a RP nor is there much of a story to explore beyond what I've told you. I want to add more to the world, I want there to be more conflict, more problems and a world outside of this forest spirits forest, the castle, the king and queen. I myself have always enjoyed there being problems like war, drama at court, life issues and the such. Again, very in much need for expansion, ideas and development. So lets work on making this small idea grow into something badass.
  11. NC-17 Welcome to Fog City

    “Welcome back, night owls. That was Duran Duran’s ‘Save a Prayer’, released in 1982. Today is Tuesday the 15th of October, it is now 4 AM sharp and you’re listening to Steven Jay and the Night Owls on Fog City Radio. Next up is Bru-†That was his cue. The radio had served its purpose and Steven Jay’s infuriatingly monotone voice was starting to get on his nerves. He turned down the dial, muting the radio, and directed his gaze upon the empty streets. The city had been asleep alongside her inhabitants for a while, resting in preparation for another gruesome day of hard work. Even in the Southside Slums you would be hard pressed to find anything larger than a rat on the streets. He, however, was the exception to that. His work was done under the veil of night and for as long as he could remember he had considered rest as a sign of weakness. He reached out and opened the glove compartment, revealing a pair of black leather gloves, a Beretta handgun and a suppressor. After sliding the leather gloves over his hands he pulled the magazine out of the handgun, making sure that it was loaded. Satisfied with the contents he pushed the magazine back into the gun and attached the suppressor. “Finally,†he muttered. He closed his eyes and took a single deep breath. Fully prepared to fulfil the task he had set out to do he opened door of his car, grabbed the black briefcase that had been sitting on the passenger’s seat and stepped out. With the pistol still in one hand and the briefcase in the other he slammed the door to his grey car shut. For the past two weeks he had spent every night in his car parked in the Southside Slums, carefully waiting for this opportunity. While tucking the gun into the waistband of his dress pants he crossed the round towards a small apartment complex. The Southside Slums lived up to their name. The houses were old, run down and hardly suited for living, but the people here had either spent all of their money on gambling, crack or whores or did not have any money for decent living in the first place. It was a sad story, tragic even, but he did not care. In fact he was grateful. Grateful that he misfortune of these poor fuckers made it easier for him to do what had to be done. Even better was that there was not a single surveillance camera to be found in the Southside Slums. As he opened the door of the complex he was greeted by the sound of a dozen tiny feet scurrying towards the closest hole in fear of whatever creature had entered the building. ‘Rats.’ Silently he strode through the ground floor hallway towards the stairs. His destination was on the second floor. ‘201. 202. 203.’ His eyes were locked on the numbers plastered upon the apartment entrances. ‘204. 205. 206.’ This was it. He placed his briefcase on the floor and took a leather case out of his overcoat’s breast pocket. The leather case contained an elaborate 32-piece lock picking set. Patiently he toyed around with the door’s lock and before long he heard the clicking sound of the last pin falling into place. The door was gently opened in an attempt to avoid the creaking sound often associated with old wooden doors. The insides of the apartment were pitch black, only slightly illuminated by the dim lights of the hallway. Relieved that there was no one in the living room, he put the lock picking set back into its place and picked up his briefcase. After stepping into the flat he closed the door as silently as he had opened it. To the right of the door was an ancient CRT TV with a coffee table and couch in front of it. He placed his briefcase on the coffee tabled and opened it up. He reached around a bit inside of the briefcase, unable to find what he was looking for due to the darkness of the living room. It took him a few seconds, but eventually he pulled a roll of duct tape out and left it on top of the table. By now his eyes had started to get used to the darkness and a quick scan of the room showed that the kitchen was attached to the living room and other than that there were only two doors. It was likely that one of the doors led to the bathroom and the other to the bedroom. Confident that he stood in front of the door leading into the bedroom he grabbed his gun and slowly started inching the door open. As expected, the first thing he was a single size bed at the end of the room. His prey was in his sights and it was a matter of minutes before he was done. No longer concerned with delicacy he paced towards the bed and took a peek at who was sleeping in it. It was a woman, mid-thirties, short blond hair and so skinny that you couldn’t tell whether there was any meat between her skin and bones. He sat down on the bed and leaned over her, making sure to cover both of her arms, and placed his left arm firmly upon her lips. The shock of his body on her woke her up screaming, but the sound were muffled by his leathered hands. “Shush, shush, shush,†he whispered, “do you see this?†He waved the gun held in his right hand in front of her face. “Make any sound louder than I’d like and I’ll be forced to use it. Understand?†Terrified her eyes shot towards every corner of the room, whether that was a sign of disorientation or fear, he was not sure. “Understand!?†She quickly nodded yes, realizing that not answering wouldn’t end well. “I am going to let go of you. You are going to stay quiet. You are going to get up and go into the living room. Understand?†She nodded. He pressed the gun against her temple and raised his hand off of her mouth, as promised. Still terrified and probably not even sure what was going on she kept staring straight at the ceiling, not making any attempts of eye contact with her assailant. After he confirmed that she would indeed remain quiet, he got off the bed. Click clack. He cocked his gun right before she got up in an attempt to make her realize that a wrong move would end badly, betting on the fact that she did not realize that cocking a gun is an empty gesture. Luckily she understood and got up silently, as ordered. As she walked towards the living room he followed closely with the gun constantly pointed at her lower back. “Turn on the lights.†She nodded and flipped the switch right next to the door to her bedroom. The light revealed that she was wearing nothing but a white haltertop and panties. Normally he would feel aroused by now, but he felt nothing but disgust when he examined her. “Sit down on the coach.†As usual she did as ordered. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.†Before joining her he took a stainless steel kitchen knife out of one of the kitchen’s drawers. “It won’t take long.†As she sat petrified on the coach he used the knife to cut off a piece of the duct tape. “Put this on your mouth.†He handed it over to her, but she just looked at it as if she did not understand what he meant. “Please, don’t make me repeat myself.†After she gagged herself he cut off a significantly larger piece of the duct tape. “Stick out your hands,†he said as he kneeled in front of her. She stuck out her hands and he had begun wrapping the tape around her wrists, but at this time she noticed that both the kitchen knife and gun were on the coffee table. As if the fight-or-flight switch in her brain had been switched on at the precise time, she kicked him in the face. He hit the back of his head on the table and ended up stunned for a second, but she did not waste any time. Desperate to survive she ran towards, however with her hands bound she had trouble opening it quickly. She knew it was too late when she felt something tug at her at her haltertop. Before she knew she was tossed halfway through the room, back onto the coach. “You bitch!†The expressionless cold gaze that covered his face had been replaced with fury. With every step he took in her direction she felt that her time was slowly coming to an end. With a huge swing he hit her in the face with the back of his hand. He forced her down on the couch, sat on her with her chest between his legs and wrapped his hands around her neck. She struggled and screamed as hard as she could, but she was unable to match his physical strength and her voice did not carry far enough for it to be audible to anyone outside of the room. His eyes stared into hers constantly, while she searched the entire room hoping to find something that might save her, but as the seconds passed by her voice become softer and the little strength her body possessed her left. She was dead. It hadn’t gone as smoothly as he had imagined, but from what he had heard first murders hardly ever did. With no more business in the Southside Slums he quickly put his gun and the duct tape back into his brief case. As he stood in the doorway he considered one last time to set up the room and create some sort of spectacle, but he quickly decided that that would be too much effort. Instead he decided to keep it simple. With the kitchen knife, that he had used to cut the duct tape, he carved ‘SAVE ME’ into the apartment’s door and then slammed the knife into the door, making sure that it was stuck in place. He’d have to come back tomorrow and take a peek at the policemen. He was curious to see who would be the one to handle this case and even more curious to know whether he, or she, would be a suitable playmate, but that would have to wait until tomorrow. For now the only thing he worried about was what he should masturbate to before going to bed.
  12. So the idea behind this RP would be a team of characters robbing a bank, or at least attempting to do so. The factor of interest is that the characters will have formed a group by random assignment - still pondering an explanation that would be most feasible, such as organizing their group online or being assigned together by the criminal organization they're a part of. The main point is the characters will not know each other prior to meeting to plan the heist. This means they cannot trust or rely on each other, they won't be a well-oiled team, so there's ample room for complications. There could be a character who intends from the start to screw over the rest of the group and make off with the money. There could be an undercover cop as part of the team, ready to bust them all. I'm personally considering a character who lies about his criminal experience, desperate for some quick money, and causes stupid mistakes during the job. I don't intend for much planning of how things will turn out, I think it'll be more fun to throw characters in and we each can come up with things as the situation dictates. I fully plan on the possibility that the heist will end in complete failure, and the deaths/arrest of all the characters. So that's the idea, if there's interest then we'll proceed to details of characters and where to begin etc.
  13. R The Heist

    First to arrive, just excellent. Patrick Bell lit a cigarette and pulled up an empty oil drum to sit on. He looked around the garage and sighed, still not believing he was actually going through with this. At least it was quiet, unlike his own garage - in past that is. He recalled how his wife would nag at him for smoking even in the garage. HIS garage, in HIS house, that HE paid for, by slaving away at HIS shit job. He'd tell her to shut up and fuck off if she didn't like it. And then one day she did. And now he smoked in the garage all he wanted. At least it's something familiar. he pondered. Everything else about today would be alien to him. Interacting with hardened criminals, planning a crime, acting. Time passed. Patrick checked his phone. The others would be arriving any moment now. He lit another cigarette and steeled himself, or at least tried to. He knew how nervous he was, he just hoped he didn't show it. Here he was, a 32 year old HR manager whose only past dealing with the law was speeding fines, about to join a crew of seasoned criminals to make plans to rob a bank. It seemed so impossible, but that was the exact allure of it. He would live a mediocre life devoid of luxury or joy if he stayed in his honest job, but here he had the chance to take one risk and become a millionaire overnight. Or end up in jail. What the fuck am I doing?