Natealie
A Mask of Nyarlathotep
Interesting. I love it. Might I ask why you gave this to my girl?
Other Let Me Make You a Superpower
- Thread starter The J
- Start date
The J
I'm trying, damn it
Well, I'm going off of Weaverdice's (The RPG based on Worm, made by the author) rules mostly, with a little bit of my own finagling.
The problem she faces is definitely a long-term one. Re-Curse is fighting against the other students at his school just to get by, and they're more like a single entity than a list of set students now, since it seems like almost all of them are out to get her.
She's what's known as an Architect Tinker. One who triggered from fighting to no avail against something much bigger than themselves - an institution, a corporation, a student year, you get the gist. They're the sort who tend towards megaprojects, which take a long time but tend to be extremely powerful. The beast is this megaproject.
The reason that her projects are mostly beastly in nature is a reflection of how he didn't collapse in defeat but responded in indignant rage. The splitting is because while the students are almost like one entity against him, there are still many of them - many threats responded to with many creatures.
Idea
The Pun Tyrant
so,Woof, finnally got the time to try this one out. Don´t disappoint me pal!
Heroes, villains, it doesn´t matter which. The power alone is the cooolest thing you ever experienced. It´s the thing you always wanted! But when you just don´t have it, even if you dedicate your life to training your every aspect, mental and physical, how can you compete? How can you be part of that world? Only as part of the sidelines. And thankfully the opportunity had just arised.
A great hero was taking recruits to work for him. His famed was spread all over, a bastion of powerful justice! No wonder so many had come to try to get the job....or that some had come to take it from him. From a distance, you could just barely catch a glimpse of it, someone aiming a knife with a strange aura substance around it, aiming it at the hero you came to work for. This was the chance to prove your worth, you leapt to stop it, and you catch the knife with the only thing you could, your stomach. You feel a strange sensation inside of you, a twisting, a pulling, a mist erupts from within you as you experience the villains power and you loose your senses.
By the time you recover them, you´re no longer where you were. Before you even have time to assess that much, though, you realize something is off with you. The weight of your body, it´s not where it should be. You look at your hands, were they always this tiny? That thin? What are those golden strings that partially cover your eyes, what are you WEARING? A skirt? Now that you think about it, your chest feels heavy, and a certain part of you feels missing, between the legs. You stand up, only now realizing you are in fact surrounded by children, of your height that is. Maybe it would even be correct to say, OTHER children.
As the caretaker approaches, you feel the urge to cry. The lingering feel in your stomach suggests it´s not over. Whatever made you into a little girl, it´s yet to finish. The caretaker asks you what is wrong, you reply wondering where you are, they explain that this is where the hero brought you. You cannot contain yourself, you run. You escape. What was it worth for, all your life? All that training you did, vanishing in an instant before your very eyes. You pick up some things along the way, maybe it´s not all lost, maybe you have time to be recognized for your effort! But the clock is ticking... Already you feel yourself getting weaker and weaker. Thing you once knew in the palm of your hand are vanishing from your mind at a rapid pace. As you arrive again at the place where the hero was, by more miracle and chance than your dim memory, it´s sign is already hard to read. You bang on the door, desperately. The people in passing by are giving you stares, disturbed stares and stares of pity. No, you don´t want those kinds of stares! You want admiration, respect for your effort and the greatness of having power!
But the people inside shoo you away. You try to press your way foward, but the security pull you away with an ease that they wouldn´t have were you your normal self. Was this all hopeless? What could you do? Your brain is running out of ideas, all you can think of is kick and scream, and in some chance of fate, the hero appears again. His figure is like a statue built entirely out of hope in your eyes, his slow pace a magnificent entrance.
You did save him, right? He even thanks you for it.
But you no longer have the power to help him. Your sacrifice was honorable, but you will soon have no skills to help anyone.
These harsh words break your last bit of will to fight it as the man you admired throws you out by force through the back door. You just lay there in the grass, everything that just transpired sinking in. You´re not even sure if you´d be capable of replying anymore. of speaking the right away. The skirt is already baggy for you. Your legs barely seem capable of moving the way you want, but do you want it, can you recall how? Does it have meaning, does it matter? You wanted power, you couldn´t have it, so you settled for recognition, so you gave up everything for it. But it was all taken away from you. And you stare down at your hands, barely remembering what hands are, will it end soon? Maybe you should just give it all up...
*trigger*
The J
wow, that ended up being way longer than expected. Sorry
The J
...
The J
I'm trying, damn it
Don't worry, I'll get to you soon. I wish I could post as promptly as you do on your thread, however I have to do a little research and checking into the Weaverdice documents to help me structure a power, and also for inspiration. Not to mention, day job + other posting requirements + sorting out exam resits + making sure everything's fine for my coming semester of uni in September takes up a fair amount of my time.so,
There's also the factor that damn, man, creativity is hard.
The J
I'm trying, damn it
All of that said, I've got some downtime at work right now...Woof, finnally got the time to try this one out. Don´t disappoint me pal!
Heroes, villains, it doesn´t matter which. The power alone is the cooolest thing you ever experienced. It´s the thing you always wanted! But when you just don´t have it, even if you dedicate your life to training your every aspect, mental and physical, how can you compete? How can you be part of that world? Only as part of the sidelines. And thankfully the opportunity had just arised.
A great hero was taking recruits to work for him. His famed was spread all over, a bastion of powerful justice! No wonder so many had come to try to get the job....or that some had come to take it from him. From a distance, you could just barely catch a glimpse of it, someone aiming a knife with a strange aura substance around it, aiming it at the hero you came to work for. This was the chance to prove your worth, you leapt to stop it, and you catch the knife with the only thing you could, your stomach. You feel a strange sensation inside of you, a twisting, a pulling, a mist erupts from within you as you experience the villains power and you loose your senses.
By the time you recover them, you´re no longer where you were. Before you even have time to assess that much, though, you realize something is off with you. The weight of your body, it´s not where it should be. You look at your hands, were they always this tiny? That thin? What are those golden strings that partially cover your eyes, what are you WEARING? A skirt? Now that you think about it, your chest feels heavy, and a certain part of you feels missing, between the legs. You stand up, only now realizing you are in fact surrounded by children, of your height that is. Maybe it would even be correct to say, OTHER children.
As the caretaker approaches, you feel the urge to cry. The lingering feel in your stomach suggests it´s not over. Whatever made you into a little girl, it´s yet to finish. The caretaker asks you what is wrong, you reply wondering where you are, they explain that this is where the hero brought you. You cannot contain yourself, you run. You escape. What was it worth for, all your life? All that training you did, vanishing in an instant before your very eyes. You pick up some things along the way, maybe it´s not all lost, maybe you have time to be recognized for your effort! But the clock is ticking... Already you feel yourself getting weaker and weaker. Thing you once knew in the palm of your hand are vanishing from your mind at a rapid pace. As you arrive again at the place where the hero was, by more miracle and chance than your dim memory, it´s sign is already hard to read. You bang on the door, desperately. The people in passing by are giving you stares, disturbed stares and stares of pity. No, you don´t want those kinds of stares! You want admiration, respect for your effort and the greatness of having power!
But the people inside shoo you away. You try to press your way foward, but the security pull you away with an ease that they wouldn´t have were you your normal self. Was this all hopeless? What could you do? Your brain is running out of ideas, all you can think of is kick and scream, and in some chance of fate, the hero appears again. His figure is like a statue built entirely out of hope in your eyes, his slow pace a magnificent entrance.
You did save him, right? He even thanks you for it.
But you no longer have the power to help him. Your sacrifice was honorable, but you will soon have no skills to help anyone.
These harsh words break your last bit of will to fight it as the man you admired throws you out by force through the back door. You just lay there in the grass, everything that just transpired sinking in. You´re not even sure if you´d be capable of replying anymore. of speaking the right away. The skirt is already baggy for you. Your legs barely seem capable of moving the way you want, but do you want it, can you recall how? Does it have meaning, does it matter? You wanted power, you couldn´t have it, so you settled for recognition, so you gave up everything for it. But it was all taken away from you. And you stare down at your hands, barely remembering what hands are, will it end soon? Maybe you should just give it all up...
*trigger*
wow, that ended up being way longer than expected. Sorry
---
Confusion set in further as Menagerie's vision slowly faded. The sun became a whirling kaleidoscope as her head hit the ground, and the rest was replaced with further blindingly bright lights and other strange visions of double helixes and angular storms of crystal.
When she came to, the hero was still in her vision, talking to crowds of journalists and prospective sidekicks, just like what she had once been. They didn't know. They didn't want it as much as she had, sacrificed what she had. Why the hell did they get what she couldn't ever have now, when she had willingly sacrificed her own life for that of the hero?
Hatred boiled within her, making her almost feel sick. She simply stared at the man, unable to even speak from what had been done to her brain and body, without sounding like a gurgled mess.
Off to one side, she saw a figure, slowly moving towards the small crowd. A domino mask and a black baseball cap concealed and shadowed their face, and one of their hands glowed. A villain, of course! There would never have only been one attacking the hero. She could still do something, still be the person she had believed she was.
Stumbling, she tried to run towards them, but fell flat on her face. She couldn't cry for help, she could barely crawl properly in their direction, but she didn't stop. The villain looked down at her, a confused look on his face as he stared at the drooling, moaning little girl that crawled towards him in an adult's dress. He stopped in his tracks, being so unsure what to make of her, and he eventually reached out and grabbed his ankle as hard as she could. Her hand didn't even fit all the way around it, but she held on tight before being shaken off as the villain left her to do what he had meant.
No. No.
She rushed forwards, cutting her knees and palms on the rough tarmac, and her hand took on a glassy sheen before she gripped the villain's ankle once more. He screamed in pain, buckling to his knees as flesh bubbled beneath her touch. He kicked her off, but not before the crowd had seen him, and the hero was already stepping in, using his power to throw the villain several metres through the crowd.
"You... you're a cape? You should have said so! He called to the girl as he came to her. This is amazing! You're definitely sidekick material kiddo. Hey, you guys getting this on camera? She saved m- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he screamed, the same searing pain overcoming him as well as she grabbed the hand that he'd stretched out to her. He tried to pull back with his enhanced strength, but the girl's arm practically rippled as flesh grew incredibly fast along it, along with the rest of her body soon enough. He only lifted her off the ground... putting her within arm's reach of his face.
--
I decided not to bother with the next section - there's already more than usual there to start. Menagerie is a Trump/Changer with the ability to copy a version of the powers of those she touches. They manifest as a physical change in her body - chemically heated flesh in her hand, or boosted muscle mass over her whole body, for example. She can always manifest and get rid of the powers she copies even years after first touching the cape, but can only use up to five at a time.
She is now a reformed Protectorate cape, after being put in the wards under a probation program. The effect was blessedly non-permanent, and is currently a member of the Wards, under-18 government-sanctioned capes. She is growing up at a normal rate, even if set back many years. Her powers tend to encourage her to run straight at villains that she fights with her team, using a brute power or several to get close before copying the villain's power, then using it if she deems it useful. The number of powers she has accrued from friend and foe alike make her a versatile and powerful opponent despite her physical age.
The J
I'm trying, damn it
More free time at work, yay! I figured I should bump this thread by doing one of my example triggers. Let's start with Road Rash:
Cuttle's world becomes pain as her cheek bone is ground to pieces, and she finally stops fighting when she passes out, seemingly from pain and the shaking of her skull. Whole worlds fly by in her mind, stopping when she wakes up.
The racists have stopped holding her, and her face is off the ground. They'd meant to damage her, ruin her face, not kill her, and had made good on their word. She reached up to touch her ruined face, and felt exposed bone and gushing blood, hot to the touch from the friction of the tarmac. She screamed... and her face became something more.
The blood instantly stopped, and she could sense something different in that spot now, but had no idea what her eyes were seeing. A writhing mass that covered the left side of her face.
"Oh fuck, she's a parahuman!" One of the men standing in the back of the van shouted.
"Shoot her you idiots!" the ringleader shouted in response, pulling out a 9mm from his belt and opening fire. Her chest blossomed with spurts of the blood, and the bullets lodged within her. None touched her head, however - the writhing mass caught them, tossing them away before catching yet more.
Cuttle's torso erupted with the same morass of tentacles that covered half of her face - several of them long enough that they reached out and slammed the men against the walls of the van, choking them as she stumbled and stood.
--
"The hell is this freak?"
"Keep shooting! Fuck, where the hell is Hookwolf?"
Cuttle ran up to another of the Empire 88's foot soldiers, and did a full-body hug on him. Thousands of needle-like tentacles pierced him head to toe, and he fell to the ground. Yet more caught every single bullet shot her way, barely even imparting any force to her before being thrown to the floor of the disused warehouse.
--
Cuttle is a brute/changer with extremely potent pseudo-regeneration. Any breaks in her skin lead to the sprouting of extremely dense masses of tentacles of varying thicknesses and lengths, which act instinctively rather than within her control. These are permanent reminders of how hideous she has become, and she takes it out on racist such as Neo-Nazi gangs like Empire 88. They turned her into a monster, as she sees it, so they're the ones she makes pay.
You’ve always taken a certain pride in your appearance, especially as concerns your face. Your bathroom cabinet is full of spot creams, exfoliating washes, shampoos and conditioners, everything to make you as beautiful as possible. Heck, it works, and you reckon you’re actually a pretty damn good catch, even if your race might make others disagree.
One day, you come home, turn on the lights, but before you know it, something hard and heavy hits you on the back of your head, and everything goes dark.
You wake up inside a white van, hearing the road rushing by beneath it. You notice two other figures in the van with tattoos all up their arms, declaring their hatred for people like you. One comes up to you, malice in his eyes. He explains that he noticed you in public, fussing with your hair, and reckoned you must care a lot about how you look. He followed you home and stalked you, seeing if this was true, and decided to use it against you. Your kind always should be and always would be hideous, and he wanted to make sure you knew.
The other person in the van opens one of the doors, and they both grab you, pulling you to the door so that only your head and shoulders stick out above the road. One of them puts his weight on your back and legs, stopping you from moving entirely, and the other places his hands on the back of your head, pressing it down towards the rushing tarmac, until it grinds against your cheek, still moving further down, scraping against bone as you feel your whole head vibrate, and you trigger from the pain and realising, that no matter what you do, you will never be beautiful again.
One day, you come home, turn on the lights, but before you know it, something hard and heavy hits you on the back of your head, and everything goes dark.
You wake up inside a white van, hearing the road rushing by beneath it. You notice two other figures in the van with tattoos all up their arms, declaring their hatred for people like you. One comes up to you, malice in his eyes. He explains that he noticed you in public, fussing with your hair, and reckoned you must care a lot about how you look. He followed you home and stalked you, seeing if this was true, and decided to use it against you. Your kind always should be and always would be hideous, and he wanted to make sure you knew.
The other person in the van opens one of the doors, and they both grab you, pulling you to the door so that only your head and shoulders stick out above the road. One of them puts his weight on your back and legs, stopping you from moving entirely, and the other places his hands on the back of your head, pressing it down towards the rushing tarmac, until it grinds against your cheek, still moving further down, scraping against bone as you feel your whole head vibrate, and you trigger from the pain and realising, that no matter what you do, you will never be beautiful again.
Cuttle's world becomes pain as her cheek bone is ground to pieces, and she finally stops fighting when she passes out, seemingly from pain and the shaking of her skull. Whole worlds fly by in her mind, stopping when she wakes up.
The racists have stopped holding her, and her face is off the ground. They'd meant to damage her, ruin her face, not kill her, and had made good on their word. She reached up to touch her ruined face, and felt exposed bone and gushing blood, hot to the touch from the friction of the tarmac. She screamed... and her face became something more.
The blood instantly stopped, and she could sense something different in that spot now, but had no idea what her eyes were seeing. A writhing mass that covered the left side of her face.
"Oh fuck, she's a parahuman!" One of the men standing in the back of the van shouted.
"Shoot her you idiots!" the ringleader shouted in response, pulling out a 9mm from his belt and opening fire. Her chest blossomed with spurts of the blood, and the bullets lodged within her. None touched her head, however - the writhing mass caught them, tossing them away before catching yet more.
Cuttle's torso erupted with the same morass of tentacles that covered half of her face - several of them long enough that they reached out and slammed the men against the walls of the van, choking them as she stumbled and stood.
--
"The hell is this freak?"
"Keep shooting! Fuck, where the hell is Hookwolf?"
Cuttle ran up to another of the Empire 88's foot soldiers, and did a full-body hug on him. Thousands of needle-like tentacles pierced him head to toe, and he fell to the ground. Yet more caught every single bullet shot her way, barely even imparting any force to her before being thrown to the floor of the disused warehouse.
--
Cuttle is a brute/changer with extremely potent pseudo-regeneration. Any breaks in her skin lead to the sprouting of extremely dense masses of tentacles of varying thicknesses and lengths, which act instinctively rather than within her control. These are permanent reminders of how hideous she has become, and she takes it out on racist such as Neo-Nazi gangs like Empire 88. They turned her into a monster, as she sees it, so they're the ones she makes pay.
Lemon Boy
~Brilliantly Bitter~
You had everything; incredibly good looks, the perfect hourglass figure and a more than ample bosom to catch the attention of others, a great track record that would've made it easy for you to become an athlete if you wanted to and grades so great that they matched your looks in quality. As a result of all of this, you were easily the most popular person in the entire school by a thousand mile margin. When you walked into the classroom, heads turned and smiles emerged. All the boys and the occasional girl were all enchanted by your looks. You knew that anyone in this school, no matter who they were, would do the most terrible of things to come even remotely close to you in any department. Looks, knowledge, athleticism and popularity. The envy that others felt by your sheer existence was palpable.
You hated it. Every part of it.
When you watched TV and saw the Movies, you were reminded of what you truly wanted to be. The outcast, the loner, the neglected friend or forgotten girl who simply faded into the background in comparison to all the others. They were perfect. In the end they always got the man and had everything turned around so their life became amazing. Swept off their feet by a gallant knight in shining armour whilst the ditsy and vain beauty was left in the dirt because of how truly pathetic she was. As you watched these shows and movies you learned that this popular, beautiful girl always ended up falling apart and becoming a wretch in the future. Those people peaked in High-school and then went into a downward spiral of failure and tragedy, dying and never really achieving anything in their lives. The star of the family always fell and became a pathetic little cinder that burned ever so sadly before being snuffed out and forgotten by the most insignificant of things. Meanwhile the ugly ducking, the little cinder, the forgotten and unloved always flourished in the future. Everything turned out great for them in the end, no matter how horrific or difficult it all was in the past. They achieved something as they peaked throughout the rest of their life, burning brightly before going out. That was what you wanted to become and yet it seemed so far out of reach.
So, to achieve your dream, you did everything you could to become the pariah. You purposely missed sleep so you'd develop bags under your eyes, you started to act disgusting in front of others in hopes of pushing them away, you began to dress trashy instead of beautifully, you purposely misdid your makeup and made it look like a five year old did it. Yet the praise and love never stopped. They were like brainwashed sheep.
"Those neon green fishnets must be the new fashion!"
"That's an interesting new hairstyle you're trying, I certainly couldn't pull it off!"
"Wow, you'll have to show me how to do my makeup like yours."
"How do you manage to be so beautiful and fascinating?"
No matter how hard you tried they always loved you, they always praised you. What the fuck was wrong with all of them? They were so blind, so stupid. Why couldn't they just hate you, ostracise you, isolate you, bully you, abuse you? Then her hero would come and save her and she'd become something whilst they were all left in the dirt and became nothing in the future whilst she transcended and left behind a legacy, but no. They were all too blind, too stupid, too devoted to just simply hate her. All she wanted to happen was to lose it all!
Why couldn't they just hate her?
Why the fuck did they love her so blindly?
What the fuck was wrong with all these people?
Trigger.
You hated it. Every part of it.
When you watched TV and saw the Movies, you were reminded of what you truly wanted to be. The outcast, the loner, the neglected friend or forgotten girl who simply faded into the background in comparison to all the others. They were perfect. In the end they always got the man and had everything turned around so their life became amazing. Swept off their feet by a gallant knight in shining armour whilst the ditsy and vain beauty was left in the dirt because of how truly pathetic she was. As you watched these shows and movies you learned that this popular, beautiful girl always ended up falling apart and becoming a wretch in the future. Those people peaked in High-school and then went into a downward spiral of failure and tragedy, dying and never really achieving anything in their lives. The star of the family always fell and became a pathetic little cinder that burned ever so sadly before being snuffed out and forgotten by the most insignificant of things. Meanwhile the ugly ducking, the little cinder, the forgotten and unloved always flourished in the future. Everything turned out great for them in the end, no matter how horrific or difficult it all was in the past. They achieved something as they peaked throughout the rest of their life, burning brightly before going out. That was what you wanted to become and yet it seemed so far out of reach.
So, to achieve your dream, you did everything you could to become the pariah. You purposely missed sleep so you'd develop bags under your eyes, you started to act disgusting in front of others in hopes of pushing them away, you began to dress trashy instead of beautifully, you purposely misdid your makeup and made it look like a five year old did it. Yet the praise and love never stopped. They were like brainwashed sheep.
"Those neon green fishnets must be the new fashion!"
"That's an interesting new hairstyle you're trying, I certainly couldn't pull it off!"
"Wow, you'll have to show me how to do my makeup like yours."
"How do you manage to be so beautiful and fascinating?"
No matter how hard you tried they always loved you, they always praised you. What the fuck was wrong with all of them? They were so blind, so stupid. Why couldn't they just hate you, ostracise you, isolate you, bully you, abuse you? Then her hero would come and save her and she'd become something whilst they were all left in the dirt and became nothing in the future whilst she transcended and left behind a legacy, but no. They were all too blind, too stupid, too devoted to just simply hate her. All she wanted to happen was to lose it all!
Why couldn't they just hate her?
Why the fuck did they love her so blindly?
What the fuck was wrong with all these people?
Trigger.
The J
I'm trying, damn it
What the fuck, man? Girl's got issues. Great trigger, but could you make the actual event more concrete? Maybe she slits her wrists to look like an emo or something.
NemoTheSurvivor
Personified Salt Shaker
You thought it was a great day. You only had a single class today, and it was early in the AM, allowing you an entire day to spend doing whatever you want. And so you walked around the downtown area, looking for someplace to grab lunch.
Then the sirens started. Police vehicles sped passed, heading deeper into the city. The crowd surged as policemen asked people to vacate the area. You started to follow the crowd when everyone heard gunshots. People started screaming and the crowd turned into a stampede. Thinking quickly, you ducked into an alleyway to escape the mob.
You took a couple of calming breaths, waiting for the crowd to pass. After most of the people were gone, you started to leave the alley. Screams chilled your blood. Looking down the road in the direction of the police officers, you saw a man in a ski mask with a large duffel bag kick a policeman. The officer slammed into a car several feet away. The car buckled inward from the impact, skidding several feet backwards. Your breath caught in your throat, panic gripping your mind. "Ma'am!" a policewoman yelled nearby, getting your attention. "You need to-" Her words were cut short when another man, dressed like the first, gestured towards the policewoman, causing her to yell out in pain. You spun around and ran into the alley, fear guiding your steps.
You stopped near the exit of the alley, doubling over. Your breath came in ragged gasps as both exhaustion and emotions ransacked your body. You didn't understand what was happening, and you prayed it was just a nightmare. "Found her," a man said behind you. You turned around slowly, icy terror filling your veins. The two men from before were walking down the alley.
"Let's get this over with," the other man said. "Can't have any eyewitnesses."
Trigger.
Then the sirens started. Police vehicles sped passed, heading deeper into the city. The crowd surged as policemen asked people to vacate the area. You started to follow the crowd when everyone heard gunshots. People started screaming and the crowd turned into a stampede. Thinking quickly, you ducked into an alleyway to escape the mob.
You took a couple of calming breaths, waiting for the crowd to pass. After most of the people were gone, you started to leave the alley. Screams chilled your blood. Looking down the road in the direction of the police officers, you saw a man in a ski mask with a large duffel bag kick a policeman. The officer slammed into a car several feet away. The car buckled inward from the impact, skidding several feet backwards. Your breath caught in your throat, panic gripping your mind. "Ma'am!" a policewoman yelled nearby, getting your attention. "You need to-" Her words were cut short when another man, dressed like the first, gestured towards the policewoman, causing her to yell out in pain. You spun around and ran into the alley, fear guiding your steps.
You stopped near the exit of the alley, doubling over. Your breath came in ragged gasps as both exhaustion and emotions ransacked your body. You didn't understand what was happening, and you prayed it was just a nightmare. "Found her," a man said behind you. You turned around slowly, icy terror filling your veins. The two men from before were walking down the alley.
"Let's get this over with," the other man said. "Can't have any eyewitnesses."
Trigger.
Last edited:
Illiterate
what da dog doin
Definitely going to do this at some point.
The J
I'm trying, damn it
Hey, sorry for the late response. I've been pretty busy with work and other RPs recently. Great trigger by the way!
--
Outburst's vision dims, before exploding into a light show of colour. She's only unconscious for moments before she wakes back up and looks around, seeing the men still closing in on her.
"Go back to sleep girl, it'll be easier." One said as he closed in on her, the man that had kicked the police officer into his car. She looked around for something, anything that she could use as a weapon, to no avail. Desperation made her try *anything*, and she threw a small piece of crumbled concrete that was next to her. It hit the man dead in the centre of the head, but it flung him like a ragdoll, down the street. He didn't get up.
The other man, the one that had killed the policewoman with excruciating pain, raised his hand, and she was overwhelmed by a sensation like her whole body was burning, inside and out, and she screamed incoherently. She could feel herself slipping away, feel her heart struggle to even beat as it became arhythmic, stuttering, failing...
--
She awoke in a hospital bed, her whole body feeling alien, strange... unfamiliar. It was like she felt less sensation than before, and yet that which she did feel was changed, like growing a new limb but she'd had them all before.
"Ah, you're awake? Glad to see." An old nurse approached her, a motherly smile on her face.
"W-where am I? What happened?"
"You're in a hospital, sweetie. You got hurt by some villains downtown, but some Protectorate heroes managed to save you. Your nerve endings got a little damaged, but the team's healer managed to revert a some of the damage, to let you still feel properly. You will feel less sensation overall, but it shouldn't be too serious."
--
Outburst is a striker/blaster/trump/thinker. She can temporarily imbue objects with her power, and normally they'll just have a small amount of extra impetus behind them when propelled, as well as a minor thinker power aiding with her aim.
The true power becomes apparent when used against other parahumans. The object will take on an effect tangentially or directly relating to their power, in a way that makes it more effective. Against the brute that was about to kill her, it caused a huge concussive impact, enough to dent his hardened skull. Against an intangible enemy who phases part-way out of our world, it would phase in the same way and hit just like it would have against a normal person.
As a Protectorate member, she was given a tinker-designed compound bow and two types of arrows. The first were tranquilizer arrows, designed to be light and harmless save for their sleep-inducing payload. The others were rubber-end, to be used against villains unable to be affected by the anaesthetic. She was later given broadheads as well, to be used against the very toughest of foes.
NemoTheSurvivor
Personified Salt Shaker
Hey, you can't rush perfection.
The J
I'm trying, damn it
Thanks for understanding, mate. Like the power?
NemoTheSurvivor
Personified Salt Shaker
Like the power, like the scenario, like the weapon. Jolly good job you did.
The J
I'm trying, damn it
Illiterate
what da dog doin
You can't rush lyfe tho. Life is always going at the same speed.
The J
I'm trying, damn it
Steady on there, Jayden.
FTR
One Thousand Club
She screamed as the flames took hold, they seared her very soul. Alexandra writhed in pain against her bonds, steam rising from where the iron met the flesh. The roaring of the flames were second only to the ones coming from her throat as the inferno consumed her. The woman's mind began to blur as heatstroke set in and the flames boiled her insides, the burn lesions draining her blood. A ring of hooded ram-skulls surrounding the scene loudened their chorus in competition before falling back down to a hum as her lamentations turned to heaving and then to a still quiet. The world fell dark as her sight fell to thermal decomposition, the angelic chants of her killers fading to ringing and then to silence as it then took her hearing. Everything became replaced by void, everything save for the agony. The pain became clarity, it meant she was still alive, she was still in control.
Yes, your suspicions are correct. If you don't know what I mean by that then my processes aren't as obvious as I feared. :p
Yes, your suspicions are correct. If you don't know what I mean by that then my processes aren't as obvious as I feared. :p
Error 420
One Thousand Club
"Okay. Radioactive Spider? Check. Random chemicals? Check. Lightning storm? Definitely." James sat in the chair he had built, waiting for the moment to come just right. The spider would bite him at about the same time lightning would strike the chair, after he injects basically every mysterious chemical he can, and triggers an explosion destroying an ancient artifact. He set it up above his parent's grave and had gangsters on standby to non-fatally shoot him during the explosion. Math predicted it would come in 3, 2, 1.
The J
I'm trying, damn it
I'm afraid they're not. I'm guessing I'm missing a reference? Unless it's meant to be some sort of demonic thing? If it's the latter, demons and supernatural things aren't really existent in Worm.
Also, the ending: triggers don't happen at the end of a trauma, after something happens to cause it to ramp down or be somehow slightly positive for the triggeree. They're the moment of highest stress, when the mind is genuinely just thinking "fuck", if it's capable of that at all. From the sounds of it, the character here manages to overcome the torture somewhat.
I love this. Could you write in what actually happens as a result? Triggers are most strongly based on the exact moment where everything goes wrong, even if the lead up plays a part.
I'm guessing their heart stops, they're set on fire, they motherfucking see souuuund dude and their body generally goes into "fuck this shit I'm out" mode.
Error 420
One Thousand Club
The lightning strikes, perfectly in percision with him inserting the needle and the spider biting. The lighting sets off the dynamite under the ancient artifact perfectly. Right on cue, the mobsters fire wildly. Bullets and the smell of burned flesh fill the air. What little remains of James slumps over in his chair.
Necessity4Fun
I'll keep trying, even if I'm not good enough...
It came to me as witchhunt. So it's someone accused of being a witch, burning alive tied to a post or something (Chanting in the background and so on). The other thought was someone being grilled alive because of the mention of metal... I don't think it's that one tho. Just a little suspicion~
FTR
One Thousand Club
Clarity and control weren't meant to be taken the way they apparently come across. It was more of a weirdo way of saying that the existence of pain meant she was still kickin' and hopefully rule out the notion of her distress being soothed by the embrace of death. I think my problem was I didn't define clarity as contradictory to trauma.
The references were intended to be kinda esoteric...just snippets of song lyrics here and there.
Yea, it sorta had that feel but tbh I'm not totally sure about exactly what's going on there. It's up for interpretation. Vicodin was involved so the whole thing may very well just be garbage :\
