• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Fantasy New Oasis: Four Heavenly Kings — The B-Sides

OOC
Here
Characters
Here
Lore
Here
Other
Here
Hiachi Ito
SCENE:
Drunk Walk Home
LOCATION:
Central, Shinto Shrine
DATE:
May 12, 2022 | 10:43 AM
PARTICIPANTS:
Hiachi, Tatsuo
DRUNK WALK HOME

Her voice remained outside Hiachi’s world. An echo of that angel she thought she saw. It swept past her as easily as the breeze had.

But unlike the breeze, Tatsuo had Hiachi jolted as the gentle hand came in contact with her shoulder. She nearly broke her neck turning to face the woman.

A beautiful woman. Tatsuo’s soft smile complimented her calm gaze. As she studied her kind countenance, Hiachi reached up to touch her own face. Her fingertips were met with raw skin and a deep burning sensation. She jerked her hand away and rubbed her elbow as she tried not to think about it.

The explanation dragged her back down to reality. She was with the police—because she had been attacked, and had to be saved.

Images from the nightmare bled into the scene. Flashes of the grime, tar and blood flickered in her mind’s eye. A wave of ache washed over her, bleeding from the sharp stabbing sensation in her temples.

She stepped back when the kami started floating around Tatsuo’s head. A few days, it’s been a few days. Her calls list was definitely fucked. Hiachi could only pray that Camila hadn’t desperately needed her in the interim, or else the torture wouldn’t end with the attack.

As soon as she thought it, she paled. That really is the only reason anyone would miss her, huh?

With a heavy sigh, she answered the miko’s first question.

“...No.”


 
Hiachi Ito
SCENE:
Lyrical Misery
LOCATION:
The Serenity, South District
DATE:
Pre-Arc 3 | Nov 11, 2021
PARTICIPANTS:
Hiachi, Hitoshi
LYRICAL MISERY

Hiachi wobbled all the way back to her seat. The air in her lungs was spent, and she was more potently drunk then she ever had been. She practically draped herself over the barstool before trying to scoot herself back on it.

And it felt great.

As she rested her head on the counter, she recalled the sound of the cheering and clapping from their performance. She didn’t know how to react at the time, but now she felt a sense of pride swelling in her stomach. It felt misplaced, and yet warm.

Her throat hurt like hell, though. She felt it towards the end of the song. Her vocal chords had been strained to their limit. Even though she hit the last high notes, she had to receive the applause with a series of dry coughs.

She grabbed her unfinished drink and sipped at the remainders. The liquid coated her throat and eased some of the pain.

“Me too...” Her voice had grown raspy and strained, but she rambled regardless. “I thought this was gonna be horrible… ‘Cause I just failed my midterms… and my friends left me…”

The second she reminded herself of why she had been so miserable in the first place, her eyes started welling up. It stung to remember.

Despite the tone of the song she just screamed, she dropped her head into her folded hands and shuddered as the tears flowed. It wasn’t like her to cry so openly, but something about the atmosphere hit a nerve.


 
Shishido Takakazu
CS Link
SCENE:
The Guy Who Wrote “Art Is In The Eye Of The Beholder” Probably Did It On The Toilet
LOCATION:
South District
DATE:
May 3rd, 2022 || Pre-Arc 3
PARTICIPANTS:
Tak, Milo ( Elenion Aura Elenion Aura )
The Guy Who Wrote “Art Is In The Eye Of The Beholder” Probably Did It On The Toilet


Kelsey and Kassaki's heads popped out from Milo's back on opposite sides like a pair of stooges, each looking at the scene in front of them with confusion as they blinked.

There lay Tak on the ground, his body unmoving, spread out on the carpet, eyes rolled back into his skull as his mouth hung open.

Thunder roared through the scene, and a moment of shock drifted across his face. Immediately, his thoughts drifted to the worst. Kassaki's usually calm and observant demeanor faltered, and he had a nervous grin and a small bead of sweat as he looked upon the body with fear in his eyes.

“Oi, oi, you gotta be kidding me…” Kassaki breathed in disbelief, “A mansion murder? I thought that stuff only happened on TV.”

Kelsey swallowed nervously, taking a step forward to examine Tak's body closer; he didn't breathe or move. His heart didn't even seem to beat; Kelsey drove down from the sunken expression of his face, as if the life had been physically drained, to travel his focus downward his body…

Until he saw his pants soaked with stains of liquid.

Kelsey's countenance went pale, the structure blocky and uneven, a deadpan display as his eyes vacated the scene. The world became a drab blue around him as he uttered words of his confusion.

“Did he…piss himself…?”

The thought only had a moment to hang in the air as Tak's body regained life and color. His massive head came right into Kelsey's face, overcome with furious rage in bloodshot eyes.

“IT'S NOT PISS ITS WATERRRRRR!!”

The abruptness of his revival made Kelsey scream in response. His eyes watered with tears as his tongue wiggled out of his mouth, and his arms rose high above his head.

When the shock finally lost control of his body, he was left to fall to the ground. His arms froze above his head, the whites of his eyes still showing as his body twitched with the faintest semblance of the life that wasn't scared out of him, a drool stream hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

“I splashed water on my dick washing my hands,” Tak stood up unapologetically as he explained his mysterious stain, pointing towards it as he trusted his hips out towards Milo and Kassaki, “I wasn't expecting it to spurt out like that!”

It was clear from the look of Kassaki's face that no one believed him. Tak's brow furrowed in response as he stepped closer, crotch first, ”If you don't believe me, then smell it!”

“Like hell anyone would do that, idiot!”
Kassaki quickly shouted in frustration, pointing his finger towards Tak as he tried to get things back on track, “Why were you screaming like a schoolgirl getting pulled into a van in here anyway? What scared you so bad to make you piss your pants!?”

“It’s NOT PISS!”
Tak sharply retorted, a fist clenched in defense, but all of his frustrations left him as Kassaki’s words gave him pause, and then his eyes lightened up in remembrance, “Ah!” he exclaimed as he suddenly broke into a sweat, “I saw a g-g-g-ghost!”


“Really? A ghost?” K
assaki was unamused by the thought; Tak was far too busy making gestures to care, “She was like this big!” He shouted, standing up on his tippy toes to show the height, “And she had eyes that looked like a newt! Kinda reminds me of someone I know a bit, actually…” he mumbled his last words, a finger rubbing over his chin, “Maybe it was her big sister…”

Kassaki’s brow twitched in annoyance at Tak’s inane ramblings. “Tch! This guy’s nothing but a clown!” he turned to Milo, expecting him to agree. “Let’s get outta here.”

With a huff, he turned around, annoyed that the ratios of his before-sleep beauty routine were disrupted. He had four different routines over the 8th hour of the day, and he was almost done when this whole thing happened.

He only took a couple steps before something impeded his progress; his body froze as his narrowed eyes snapped upward, a hand reflexively reached for a sword that wasn’t there, and a click of his teeth as he jumped backward to create distance.

A shadow towered over them. Her pale white clothes hung loose around her body, waving in the cold chill that drifted across the whole hall. Hollow black eyes looked down upon the men, and creaking groans like an unhinged door frame came from a mouth hidden underneath layers of black hair.

Tak stood frozen, his shaking finger pointing towards the ghost, lips puckered like a fish as sweat pooled down his forehead, “A g-g-g-g-g-g-g-GHOOOOOST!”

Kaseki clicked his teeth, taking another step back as he realized he was unarmed, standing defensively as he looked towards who he had at his side; Tak was too busy nearly shitting himself, and Kelsey…

The bluenette was still on the ground, lying unconscious, though now he was smiling as if having a pleasant dream.

“Looks like it’s just us, four-eyes,” Kassaki declared, raising his fists in preparation, “I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan on going down to a ghost without a fight!” He exclaimed, prepared to approach the supernatural with his fists.

Before anyone could make a move, though, a light turned on behind them. Barker appeared, and a flashlight beneath his chin cast a shadow across the man’s more sunken features.

“That’s not a ghost.”

“WWAAAAHAAAAAWAAHAHAPAAAH!” Kasseki’s composed demeanor and battle-ready act fell into tatters as Barker’s voice came from behind, the wannabe samurai flailing around as he leaped to the side, his head slamming against the wall, knocking the life out of him as his body went limp, slowly sliding down the wallpaper, leaving a long strip of brush burn across his face as he was propped up in an uneven position between the floor and the wall.

Barker, undisturbed by scaring the life out of one of his students, looped around to stand next to the “ghost,” placing a hand to grasp at her arm. “This is my wife, Sayako. Please excuse her; she has a habit of sleepwalking,” he calmly explained. With a small jostle of the gangly woman, he called to her in a soft tone, “Dear, you’re sleepwalking again.”


There was a moment before the woman’s eyes fluttered; the dead-looking pupils were subtly invaded by highlights, her body unslouched, head raising as she yawned; she reached her hands up to stretch but only found them bumping against the ceiling.

“Where….” she slurred out, eyes taking a look around, widening at the sight of Milo and Tak and their unconscious friends, then taking a look down to her side to see Barker smiling up at her.

“Oh my!” She quickly clasped her hands onto her chest. “I wasn’t sleepwalking again, was I?” A nod from Barker confirmed the fact. Quickly, she realized what she had done, turning to the men and bowing in apology. “I’m so sorry! I hope I didn't scare you."

“Oi, oi, this isn’t funny…”
Tak mumbled a crick in his jaw as he barely contained his anger at the poor woman and her sleeping issues, “I’m standing here with soaked underwear because of you…!” He scornfully whispered.

Ah, so it was piss.

Regardless, Barker apologetically turned towards them, placing a hand on his chest as he spoke, “I’m sorry for the disturbance. I’m sure you all are all tired. Please return to your rooms. I’ll ensure that my maids make you a nice breakfast in the morning to make up for this.”

Tak grumbled something, shoving his hands into his pockets as he turned around, with his back scrunched in dissatisfaction as he sulked back to his room, “There better be biscuits and gravy there, damnit…”

“Now, dear, let's get you back to bed,”
Barker smiled at his giant wife, who returned his smile as they turned to leave.



 
BASH HIRABAYASHI
SCENE:
Iniquitas Deorum
LOCATION:
North District, Waterfront
PARTICIPANTS:
Kisara, Bash
✕ POTENTIALS BANNED:
Prinz Gyoushi [Kisara McDowell]
Iniquitas Deorum

Bash’s head snapped back for a second, the impact from her blow slamming into his chin and demanding a brief stagger from his body. He quickly regained his bearings, eyes locking with hers for a moment.

Shit…

He sucked his teeth, relieved that the familiar metallic twang of blood hadn’t laid itself onto his tongue yet. She looked dead serious. Taking advantage of the brief second of pride she must have felt by landing first in the exchange, he thrust his parried right forearm into the side of her head, swinging her body away from him and freeing his fist.

She really doesn’t fuckin’ wanna say it…


He agreed. He wasn’t going to be the one who said those words first, either. Although part of him felt a strange sense of relief in knowing that she was able to understand his conditions. It was… nice. Because in reality, no matter who won, no matter who said it, this would all be over then. They would finally be…

Suddenly, he dropped to the floor. Now was no time for sentiments! He was in the middle of a fight, for fucks sake! He burst forward once again, this time lowering himself and propelling his arms forward to sweep her legs into his grip. If he could get her on the ground, that damn armor she was covered in wouldn’t matter as much.

simj26 simj26

 
'Bombardier'
SCENE:
Clad in Golden Dreams
TIME:
June 16th, 2022
LOCATION:
West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Ezra, Mark, Hiachi, Tak, Elias, Missy
Clad in Golden Dreams
"Conditions foggy. Adjust by 2.9 degrees right, Bombardier."

Fifteen meters above the chaos. He stood, long, grey beard whistling in the chill night wind blowing in from the skylight. It was about time, he figured, that things finally kicked off. There hadn't been much of a plan amongst he and Weiss's other bodyguards. They were just names on a list, strung together by the same duty, which they'd all chosen to forsake.

"1.2 up."

For the most part, at least. There were some of them, he knew, with history. He and the voice in his ear one of the foremost examples.

"0.3 left."

A beautiful, brilliant granddaughter, yet still ugly and stupid enough to follow in his footsteps. He would've retired years ago, if not for his decision, no, his duty to play babysitter.

"On target."

For now, he purged his mind of such thoughts. The bounty on this one was big. Big enough to set a woman up for life. That was all that mattered. Contemplation left him as his muscles whirred with the brute force of his Potential. Enemies' own gussets of smoke and shadow were his cover. His fingers first glowed red, then orange, and then a bright, blazing white. Five pinpricks of heat pressed to the edge of his fingertips, surrounding a pool of white-hot power in his palm.

"Primed."

Passeri Park
SCENE:
Clad in Golden Dreams
TIME:
June 16th, 2022
LOCATION:
West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Ezra, Mark, Hiachi, Tak, Elias, Missy
Clad in Golden Dreams
There was heat. Despite the spreading chill of Weiss's Potential, all Passeri could feel was the spread of a merciless, oppressive heat. Sweat trickled down her brow, and from beyond the wall of smoke five blossoms of light burst.

Passeri noticed just in time.

Her own Potential flashed, and a cascade of shimmering barrier coated the air above them, but only for a moment. They were gone as quickly as they appeared. The sky turned pink, and then shattered, bringing down on them a hail of luminous shards, flickering for a moment in the dark before bleeding away entirely. And in their wave there was force. A shockwave of superheated air, the mere aftershock of a detonation only meters above them, blasted through the assembled Tigers like a typhoon. Passeri was knocked clear off her feet, sent tumbling across the polished marble floors and into the legs of an upended table.

The floors were wet now, slick with puddles of melted ice, and Passeri's ears rung with the sound of screaming steel. She stumbled to her feet, heels snapped and discarded, dress in tatters, and spat out a curse beneath her breath. Her Potential lit the skies again. One, two, three walls of hardened light.

And then again.

"Primed." Unheard, from above.

Another blast. Another wave of heat and force. Five more detonations. The first of her walls felled.

"Hiachi!" She yelled at the top of her voice. In part because of the ringing in her ears, and in part because of the mounting frustration in her chest. "Pick this fucker out! Dagger! Gun him down! And if that doesn't work-!"

Another flash of light. Her second barrier felled, but not without recourse. Over her shoulder, a long, barbed nail pressed the shape of itself onto reality, aligned with the sky.

"-Then just keep the bastard still!"


'Seer'
SCENE:
Clad in Golden Dreams
TIME:
June 16th, 2022
LOCATION:
West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Ezra, Mark, Hiachi, Tak, Elias, Missy
Clad in Golden Dreams
"Eyes on you, Bombardier. Moving in to provide cover."

"what the fu-?"

The was half of a curse spoken into her ear, but her earpiece was shut off before she heard the end of it. Three and a half within. One without. The rest distant. Tigers weren't pack animals, after all. The moment shit hit the fan they'd scattered like ants.

"You done? Switch to covering fire. They'll be like chickens without heads so long as they can't get a read on you."

"fine. be careful."

"Yeah, yeah."

Cocksure, a grin on her lips, and a blade in hand, Seer waved off her grandfathers frets. A 17 degree blindspot. Between the keen set of eyes and one-half. A swift approach. Footsteps unheard beneath the sound of her grandfather's bombardment, and then-

The glint of a blade from the dark. First target: The spotter duo. 1.7 degree blindspot, just enough to hide the beginning of her blade's arc.

Soundlessly, she swung at the shorter one's neck.

Interacted: simj26 simj26 miki miki
 
CAMILA GASPARI
SCENE:
Backroom Dealings
TIME:
Post-Arc 3, June 21st 2022
LOCATION:
West District, Sarizara Restaurant
PARTICIPANTS:
Camila, Ryutaro, Samira, Jack, Elias, Alice, Welsha, Dagger, Passeri
Backroom Dealings
Despite her unwavering attention to the topic at hand, Camila opted to dig in further into her meal. She was in dire need for some savory relief against the saccharine wave of idealism coming from the pretentious Queen. Quite frankly, she didn't like how noble or pristine he was trying to come across, but at the very least was appreciative of his honesty regarding what was on the table for the rambunctious King.

Elias question got her attention, battling her impulse to roll her eyes at his playful tease. "I don't care about any revolutions, dear." She left her fork to rest, right next to the rest of the excessive silverware adorning the sides of her plates. "But in times like this, it's either sink or swim, and I don't plan on sinking anytime soon, also let me give you a little word of advice" She girated her hips slightly, to face at the man directly more comfortably.

"When it comes to taking sides, winners don't take kindly to fence sitters." She wasn't giving the man a threat, but rather merely speaking from experience. That was exactly what she was trying to avoid, at the end of the day, to withhold one's support was but marginally better than outright showing support, if not even worse on the rare occassion. Lack of choice was as much of a display of character as the opposite, and not a particularly flattering one.

"You've made some good points, Queen." She raised her voice, enough for the host, as well as everyone else on the table, to hear her loud and clear. "You already know by now that I'm not happy with our King, yes, he did some incredibly things back when he was a rebellious punk." She side-glanced at the tall man beside her once more. "But that was long ago, and now all I see is an egomaniac, reclusive madman. You have my interest for sure, but all I ask is that your plans don't put a short leash on my business, I have a good thing going on now and I'd rather not cut a lot of corner."

She turned to face the distressed young girl, the veteran smiling once more. "Sound like we might be working together in the near future, looking forward to that, Princess." It was endlessly amusing to see the little kitten finally show her fangs, it almost made Camila forget about the (admitedly petty) resentment she held over the spoon-fed girl.

 
HITOSHI YAMAKAWA
CS Link
SCENE:
Young Blood
TIME:
Post Outbreak || July 21, 2022
LOCATION:
South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Hitoshi, Charlie, Musai
Young Blood
The woman leaned onto the counter-top and rested her chin on the palm of her hand as she let out a chuckle. "Listen, I don't need any more convincing alright? I believe you... for now at least. But where you can find him?" she then said with a chuckle, "Well, he is taking your wallet right now." She pointed towards Musai, who was furthest from the group, which made everyone still for a moment.

Slowly, the trio moved their eyes collectively down towards Musai's side - passing by the store's various contents and shelves - until they reached a little boy holding Musai's wallet in one hand. Wide eyes stared out, darting between the three of them, as he licked at chocolate around his mouth that he had just recently stuffed. In his other hand was a bag full of candies that he had likely stolen from other shops and was carrying around with him. He looked no older than 6 as he was still chewing on the candies before letting out a nervous chuckle: "Uuuuuuh... sorry?" he said with a mischievous grin before making a mad dash for the door. Hitoshi instinctively threw himself to try to intercept, but found himself colliding with the floor as the kid's speed was almost blinding.

"Neh neh neh nah nah! Can't catch me!" the boy then yelled as he burst through the doors and rushed out to the right.

"Agh, shit! After him!" Hitoshi shouted as he scrambled back up onto his feet and bolted out right after.


Roda the Red Roda the Red Kameron Esters- Kameron Esters-
 
Zentsupa Pei
SCENE:
Next Aisle Down
LOCATION:
8th Street Plaza, South District
TIME:
Post-Outbreak || July 12th, 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Jun @King Crimson, Pei
Next Aisle Down

“I hear ya, fuckface!”

Pei’s telltale crudeness came from around the bend before he stepped into view. For a man who wasn’t used to losing, and whenever he did it usually resulted in a rage and bloodlust he never normally displayed, he was incredibly calm about Jun’s victory, grinning as usual as he strode up.

“Look,” was the only indication he gave that the point of interest had moved on beyond their little “contest” ; a nudge of his head directed the focus towards the front of the store. The electronic doors slid open with a welcoming ding.

“Security!” A woman screamed as a man and a woman stepped inside, their attire of simple mall cops with far too much equipment for their jobs. Dressed up in gear with black and blue like they were real cops, and people treated them as such in their moment of need.

“There was an explosion---“These two madmen--They nearly killed me--Are you going to do something!? ---You need to--- Make sure--”

Numerous voices overpowered each other, rattling against the mall cops as they stood there, caps shadowed their eyes as they were unphased, unmoved, they took no action to apprehend or to even bring calmness to the growing chaos of the crowd. They slowly grew more angry with the lack of action, quickly did shouts and demands of action turn to screams of frustration of the lack of those requests being fulfilled.

“You assholes!” A middle-aged man stepped forward, grasping one of the guards by the shoulder sharply as he gritted his teeth, annoyed at the lack of action by the people who were supposed to be protecting them at times like this, “Are you listening!?”

His grip on the mall cop was held for a moment, the woman unmoving. Before, slowly, her hand moved, in the first display of any semblance of life in their bodies, fingers twitched and stretched as the muscles were activated one by one, like newly placed nerves getting adjusted to moving around a suit of flesh and bone.

Finally, did the hand stop, gently placing it on top of the man’s knuckles, fingers crooking in the grooves, a feeling of warmth spreading between.

The man looked at the guard confused, he had a moment to raise his brow.

Before his eyes shifted to horror.

He watched as the woman’s skin split open, the numerous separations of skin from the cells threaded open, allowing black tendrils to sprout like fervent roots, they nailed themselves into the man’s skin, digging in deeper. Even as he reflexively pulled his hand away, dropping onto the floor as he clutched his wrist, it was already too late, he watched as the black spirals traveled up his arm through his veins, coagulation like pools of blood within his arities, his hand was no longer his own as he rose up to grab at his own face, digging its nails into the roof of his mouth.

Guttural sounds of his lungs expending air and filling with liquid, black goo ran down between his fingers and drizzled down his chin, viscous as syrup as it stained into his shirt. Fight or flight kicked in as people watched the madness, some froze to stare while others had already begun to run.

The man’s eyes blinked, and when they opened again they had lost all life. Instead, they were replaced with pools of inky black, his hand slowly left from his mouth, as trails of ink passed underneath his skin and disappeared beneath his jugular, slowly filling it in parts of his system. Liquid of black pooled out from his eyes as his pupils dilated into small red dots in the void as he stood back up to his feet, like a puppet pulled on strings.

The heads of the security guards rose to reveal the same vast blackness, only being swam by a single red dot. Their hands reached, they grasped for more vessels. Panic rose, things were thrown and tossed as people crawled over each other to escape from these strange attackers.


…Meanwhile, Pei had occupied himself with digging through the bargain bin, he had already gotten a decent stash going, a pair of cheap sunglasses on his face in the shape of stars, some fuzzy pom-poms on his head, and he had even slipped on a hot-pink overshirt with the words BADMAN on the back.

He turned away from his dive to look towards Jun with a grin and a cackle, “Hurry up and grab whatever you can! We only got time to hit a few stores before this whole place becomes filled with those fucking things!” Pei shouted, pulling himself out of the bin as he grabbed a pair of socks with poop designs stitched into them.

“How about you pick something for the hag while you’re here?” Pei joked, placing a hand at knee level in reference to Jun’s sponsor, “I’m sure she’ll like some mittens or some of those foam toys that grow in water! Kekekekekek!” Pei laughed at himself like always as he was already strutting his way over to look in the different sections. He wasn’t even against pilfering through the woman’s section, digging through pairs of bras and panties, thigh highs and garters, tossing stuff over his head in a growing disorder.

“Next, let’s hit the electronics!” Pei exclaimed, growing disinterested in the clothes as he tossed one last pair of undergarments to the side, already on his way over as he ran, he was always laughing and giddy, but this was something different.
 
Last edited:
Justus Bradley
SCENE:
Homecoming
TIME:
Post-Outbreak — July 22nd, 2022
LOCATION:
Lower Central
PARTICIPANTS:
Chikage, Eric, Justus, Inigo
HOMECOMING
Justus, sitting silently beside Captain Nakazajo, exudes his usual stoic calmness as they drive through the devastated streets. His broad shoulders are set, his expression unreadable behind the mask of concentration. He observes the wreckage around them with a meticulous eye, taking in every detail without a word. His hands rest lightly on his knees, the faint glint of his wooden arm catching the light now and then.

As they halt behind Detective Evensen and Sergeant Han's vehicle, Justus methodically checks his gear, ensuring everything is in place before opening the door. He steps out of the cruiser, his tall frame imposing even amidst the chaos of the ruins. With a deep breath, he surveys the area, his orange eyes flickering briefly as they adjust to the dim light.

Once Captain Nakazajo finishes his radio communication, Justus nods in understanding, his demeanor unshaken by the gravity of their mission. He follows closely behind, ready to lend his potential to the task at hand, his footsteps sure and silent on the broken pavement.

Roda the Red Roda the Red thebigfella thebigfella Doctor Llamabean Doctor Llamabean
 
Areith Rozárie
SCENE:
Above Abyss, Under Heaven
LOCATION:
Unknown Waters
TIME:
June 6th, 2022|| Post-Arc 3
PARTICIPANTS:
Areith, The Pope @Vorifengrous
Above Abyss, Under Heaven

For a moment, all stood in silence. Your eyes turned to the dark sky, waiting for a pat in the clouds. The sun's light was the warmth of guidance from the Father, just as the rain was the sadness and the tears.

The brewing storm was not meant to punish you. The roaring winds didn’t come to guide you astray. Their purpose was to remind you that the path ahead was pernicious, that it would twist and turn, but He would always lead you back to the path, just as He always had.

The dark sea did not worry you; being lost within the vastness was nothing but more time to pray and appreciate the second chance of life you had been given. Instead of dying at the bottom of the sea, you had been given an opportunity for a more divine purpose.

“Oh God,” you began as you always did, your hands raised in the air as you faced heaven. "May you be merciful to all those foolish and yet to find their way. May your patience and generosity touch all the troubled souls, my lost lambs, which I will guide towards your plans.”

Your prayers gained the attention of your devout, and many began to join you, their hands clasped, dropping their heads, and dropping on their knees.

“Bring unto me all your struggles, those you cannot reach. I shall act upon thee from the highest skies to the deepest seas who refuse to accept your heart in theirs. For all deserve to have a taste of your limitless graciousness.”

The prayer continued. Areith's words hit crescendos, echoing out far across the ship. The sounds of the waves slamming against the ship’s hull and the rocking of the boat all seemed to cease in the wake of her connection with God, as if a moment was given for a time to stop around them.

The members of the covenant didn’t even notice, too engrossed in their prayer,

You did not let it disrupt your prayer. Your head dropped, and your eyes closed, your warm smile never leaving your lips as you finally closed out your proclamation. “Amen,” you whispered. And many joined you, the calls to God whispered across the ship.


And then came the sound. Like the deep guttural cries of an underwater giant, the playing of a buisine, a dull thrum that rattled the sound waves against the skull, the covenant looked around their stopped ship in confusion.

The ship was dragged backward as those on it lost their balance, falling to the side and on the floor, leaning on each other for support. Some almost fell off the side of the ship from the sudden jump. The waves returned, the wind blew, and then, once again, they began to push forward towards their pilgrimage.


Nothing had changed from the appearance. Many looked around in confusion, looking at each other for answers.

You looked down at the waters. You saw dead fish rise to the surface. You let the cries you heard play in your head.

Like the calls of whales, the anguish of loneliness from a lost calf within the waters, trying to find its parents, searching for guidance, for help, as its screams echoed miles through the water. You had swam through miles; you had walked across the sea floor until the skin of your feet had hardened so that no spines or spikes could pierce through. You had heard the joy and sadness of the beautiful creatures, His creations, His wonders, as they swam past you.

This was another one of his wonderful children.

And so you began to walk. You strolled past your covenant on a mission, they realized. All of them stepped out of your path as you traversed the deck, feet stopping in the middle, where a large pair of trap doors sat beneath your feet.

With only a gesture to two of your lambs, they got the message. They walked to grab the handles connected to rope reels, and quickly they began to turn as the ropes turned taunt, a series of pulleys they twisted and turned as wood groaned and creaked.

There were sounds of something moving through the shaft, its immense weight pulling the ropes taught as they almost looked like they’d fray. Something within the dark depths of the ship came to light, the gaps in the trapdoor letting moonlight sneak through.

And then, the doors flipped open. Giant metal pipes were pried through, reaching high up in the air as the rest of the instrument raised into sight; a massive organ, one fit for a grand cathedral, sat on the deck of the ship, its wooden parts engraved with patterns of angels and harps, wings and halos. Finely polished metal shimmered, and the keys were kept clean of all grime.

You stepped up towards the organ. Your fingers traced over its keys momentarily, feeling out your message.

And then, finally, you find it, and your fingers stretch and bend to slam down on the keys. Hollow bellows played out from the pipes as they sang through the surroundings and down the seafloor, the playing reverberated soundwaves. It was a song, a melody that strung together words with only the tones and the timbre to speak beyond the barrier of words and engage with those whose ears were turned to cries. The accompanying vibrations through the water. A divine call that spoke of few words with many keys, fingers dancing across the keys as the music played in synchronicity to the message:

He welcomes all. Let Him guide you as He does me. Praise be upon him.

 
Zentsupa Pei
SCENE:
Losers!
LOCATION:
East District, Skate Park
TIME:
Post-Arc 3 || June 11th, 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Pei, Javi
Losers!

Pei’s laughing barely had stilled for a moment, the last breathless cackles leaving his stained throat as he held his stomach, looking at Javi with those ever-so-unreadable beads that could barely be called pupils.

His attempt to de-escalate the situation did not get much of a reaction from him; he was far too busy trying to catch his breath. But, with the loud smack and resulting floundering, a whole other flurry of laughter took him over; as the skateboard flung off his skull and landed on the ground, Pei nearly toppled over renewed cachinnation, starting to go purple in the face,

Still, while losing his mind at the humor of the whole situation, his eyes did not miss as the moment changed. Red flowed through the earth like magma, and the ground beneath his feet grew hot.

Pei rubbed the tears out of his eyes, gauging Javi’s reaction; he didn't need much other confirmation as he finalized the count in his head. Five, that’s what he expected. It seemed they both had the same amount of “ammunition.” Pei noted with a grin as he reached underneath his shirt again, “Looks like you just let a dangerous one loose! Guess it’s about time I stop playing around…and show my secret weapon! Kekekekekek!”

Pei prepared Javi for the worst, something to counter the new monstrosity on the playing field? Just what menace was he going to show off? His hand slowly retracted from his jacket, letting the seconds tick on gradually, giving a moment for the tension to really settle in.


With a quick display, he pulled his hand outward and upward, just to bring it back down, brandishing his secret weapon. Wrapped up in his fingers was a tiny fairy not much bigger than her hand. She looked completely dumbfounded, eyes weary like she had just been woken up. Her hazy eyes blinked at the situation, arms limply hanging out of Pei’s fingers like she was a toy doll.

With no explanation, Pei gently put her down on the ground next to Javi, giving her a gentle pat on the head as she looked up at him while rubbing her eyes. She glanced back towards Pei in confusion, but before she could even ask a question, Pei had already turned around 180 degrees.

“Alright!” He gave a sharp raise of his hand before reaching down to pick up Javi’s skateboard, as once again it began to cry out about being groped, fondled, and touched, loudly and obnoxiously screaming for help as it wriggled in his grip.

“...Bye!”

With no hesitation, Pei set off in a sprint as fast as his spindly legs could carry him in some ridiculous crab walk, going “KEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEK!” like a hyena as he bounded away from the situation, leaving it to be someone else’s problem.

“EHHHHHH!?” Lala screamed out in disbelief, her hands flailing around as she looked down at the bubbling cement beneath her. Worried and distressed, she looked up at Javi, “What’s going on? What’s happening?” In her distress, she clutched her giant syringe, “Where’s everyone else? Q-Bot! Bushineko!?”

In her attempts to understand what was going on, her eyes darted around. She narrowed in on two dots in the distance, squinting to make the scene clearer.

The cat samurai and his hot-tempered rival’s fight had reached a crescendo; despite playing board games and drinking tea for most of the time up until now, they had become covered in scratches and bruises from their intense battle. Both breathed heavily, and fatigue started to gain on them.

Bushineko’s stance changed, and with a squeak of his toe beans, he shifted his weight. His katana glimmered in the sun, the sound of its sharp metal cutting through the air with even the slightest movement. He held it above his shoulder, and both paws gripped around the handle like a spear.

“It’s time to finish this,” he uttered, and he was sure the feeling was mutual. Both of them controlled their breathing. Neither moved; bodies began to surge with energy, and electricity within Rocco sparked, swirling around his core as it began to converge like a globe of plasma. The air shifted around Bushinkeo’s pebbles from the ground. Lifting up in the air, blue flames began to rise from his feet, engulfing him in wispy auras of blue flame that swirled around him like an inferno.

Both readied and prepared to deliver the final blow and end this squabble once and for all, teeth gritted and scowl on their features of bitter rivals.

Cries of war came from Bushinkeo as he charged forward, and screeches of strife came from Rocco in turn as they charged for each other.

And then time slowed. A shadow drifted across them both, stretching far to engross their whole section of the skatepark in darkness. Bushineko’s eyes tore away from the battle to look upward, as his jaw dropped in slow motion, and his attack faltered as he stopped in place.

A blimp floated above, and his idol was plastered on the side of it. An advertisement for her most recent album. High above the East.

“IROIII-SAMAAAA!” Tears came from Bushineko’s eyes as his sword dropped, his hands raising up in the air as he hopped up and down so excitedly that his Bluetooth earphones fell out, revealing this whole time that he had been listening to Passeri Park at full blast.

Lala’s eyes blinked at the ridiculousness of the situation, and there was a deadpan neutrality on her face as she turned in the other direction to check on Q-Bot.

The tiny robot grabbed one of Luvi’s tiny arms, frantically shaking it with a huge smile on his blocky face: “Thank you! I thought I was going to suffocate!” He beamed before a realization hit him. He let go of the handshake and placed his hands onto his nonexistent hips, a look of surprise at his own statement as he stared into space: “Oh yeah, I don’t need to breathe!”

With this realization, the robot posed, raising both of his arms in the air: “I would have been alright because I’m a super robot! Pipipo!♪” He danced around in his own happiness about how useful and invincible he was before he stopped being self-centered and remembered Luvi was there.

With a blink, he opened the cabinet in his chest, sliding it open to reveal his ongoing machinery. It was incredibly simple-looking, a series of full gears and pulleys that made him up. But placed neatly leaning upon the inner wall was a half-eaten, half-melted chocolate bar.

Q-Bot pulled it out, the melted chocolate staining his fingers as he offered it to Luvi, “Here ya go! This is for you!” in an attempt to thank her for the kindness.

As cute as their interaction was, Lala couldn’t help but feel a bit dejected that no one was paying attention to what was happening. So, instead of looking elsewhere, she gave Javi one awkward stare.

“Um…nice to meet you…?”


 
Shishido Takakazu
CS Link
SCENE:
Everyone's A Critic
LOCATION:
Feralia Art Gallery, Central District
DATE:
June 30th, 2022 || Pre-Arc 3
PARTICIPANTS:
Camila ( Roda the Red Roda the Red ), Takakazu
Everyone's A Critic

Tak was rubbing his nose when Hillclad’s sudden approach and grasp upon him caused him to stop/. For a moment, he thought she might finally act out and snap at him. He was hoping that getting her angry would be the perfect chance to get her to say things without thinking them through, but as quickly as she grasped on, she let go, letting her frustrations dissipate.

He had to wonder if she was that much of a saint or if she valued his opinions well. Not that the answer mattered; she still hadn’t given him what he wanted.


…What did he want anyway? The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t know. He initially followed Hillclad because he was guided by the demands of manly urges, and Camil’s icy glare quickly froze. Now he was acting like he had a plan for her to admit the truth, but the truth of what?


Everything changed in that pause of trying to remember what he was here for. When Tak’s eyes rose back to Hillclad, no longer was the kind woman bridging on femme fatale; it had only been left with a brazen hunger that could only come from a beast clawed to stand where they were now.

All pretenses were dropped. Tak had no clue how she figured it out, but he preferred it this way; having to sneak around and do all this acting definitely wasn’t his style. With a smirk, he dropped what barely symbolized a character. That dead look returned to Tak's eyes, and he returned to his natural frown, posture slouching and stance broadening. Now, he was nothing but a bruiser in a dumb suit, just as he always was.

“Guess the jig is up,” Tak surrendered, reaching a hand towards his suit. "I don’t need this anymore, then. The thing is starting to chafe.”

With no hesitation, Tak tore the suit in half, the seams and threads tearing apart in one smooth motion, and by some force of chase, the suit pants did just the same. A gust of wind blew through a nearby open window, blowing a curtain in front of Tak’s groin as the split suit fell to the ground, leaving Tak in nothing but his shoes and a tie.

“Guess I underestimated you!” Tak said with a point towards the woman, uncaring about showing his bare self to the world as he sneered, “Looks like you’re more than just a fine piece of ass!”

With a change of his index to his thumb, Tak pointed to himself, right in the chest, as he raised his head haughtily. “You wanna know who sent me?! Well, I can’t tell you that! But I’m here for…”

He trailed off, and an abrupt silence dragged on as Tak stood there. His brow twitched, and a bead of sweat pooled as discomfort stayed on his face. The awkwardness had him standing there momentarily, unmoving.

“Oi, Camila,” he finally broke, giving up on trying to remember it as he looked towards the wardrobe.

“What am I here for again?”

 
XUEFENG
SCENE:
Growing Pains
TIME:
Post-Outbreak || July 15th, 2022
LOCATION:
East District
PARTICIPANTS:
Chiyome, Jackson, Kanna
GROWING PAINS

With permission granted, Xuefeng stepped forward confidently, drawing a smile from the stall runner who drew his arms wide. "Wonderful! Give our next challenger a round of applause, folks!" A few scattered claps punctuated the Child's steps as he approached the wooden table that held the Box.

He reached out to it instinctively, only to receive a quick rebuke from the eccentric man. "Ah, ah, ah! First, you need to hear the rules."

The Child's face scrunched up at this. He was not so big a fan of the word. Familiarity bred contempt, after all. Observing his mark's souring expression, the man whirled with a flourish for the benefit of the crowd and tapped the top of the Box's carved surface, drawing the Child's attention as the wood paneling began to move. Patterns swirled on its face as some hidden mechanism caused the several overlapping concentric circles to rotate in such a way that a small hole emerged between the panels. Just large enough for a hand to reach inside its dark porthole.

When nothing else happened, Xuefeng looked from the Box to the man.

"Not to worry! This is how it will go: you will reach your hand inside the box and feel around. There is a special item inside. If you correctly guess what that item is, you get to keep it!"

Xuefeng tilted his head to one side. His feline tail swishing. "That's it..?" He asked, a little disappointed there wasn't more to it.

"That's it," the man confirmed, waving his hand toward the Box, ushering the Child towards it. Xuefeng stepped the rest of the way up to it, reached his hand inside the hole, and felt with his fingers along the floor of its confines until his fingers traced something smooth and cool to the touch. For a moment, realization dawned across his expression. A sharp inhalation of breath. In the next moment, he was gone.

Popped out of existence like a soap bubble on hot pavement.

The audience let out a collective gasp of surprise, as the man, in one fluid motion, impossibly folded his stand down into the shape of a briefcase—a sign of a Potential; it was the only explanation—before he hurried down a nearby alley, calling over his shoulder. "Thank you for your patronageeeee!"

 
Shishido Takakazu
CS Link
SCENE:
The Only Difference Between Cream and Custard Filling Is One Is Better Than The Other
LOCATION:
West District
DATE:
June 2nd, 2022 || Post-Arc 3
PARTICIPANTS:
Tak, Lazlo @WhiskeyMarten
The Only Difference Between Cream and Custard Filling Is One Is Better Than The Other


Tak's struggle only had some reprieve as he heard the sound of Lazlo's failure, he stopped his ascension to look over shoulder, seeing Lazlo in a pile of sugar immediately made all his strain be replaced in indulgent elation, he laughed loudly, head oversized and teeth jagged as he loomed down at Lazlo.

“HAHAHA! SERVES YA RIGHT FATASS!” Tak cackled, pointing at him as he laughed. He was so engrossed that he even took his other hand off the laughter to point at him twice, reeling each finger back and forward, “Idiot! Dumbass!” He teased like a child.

But then the force of gravity held onto him, his eyes widened for a moment before he toppled over. The weight of the butter brought him to the ground, landing so hard the floor cracked beneath him, his back bending like a bow as his cheeks puffed with air and his eyes bulged out, spewing a stream of spit from his puffed lips.

He quickly fell unconscious, his slick greasy body sliding down the butter to land right next to Lazlo.

Lou loomed over both of them, his arms crossed in disappointment, veins of anger in his forehead.

“You two idiots…I don't care how long it takes, I'll get you two to be able to make these donuts.” He promised.

The focus slowly panned upwards, and the shot held onto a light bulb within the kitchen. There was a breath of silence, before a plume of flour dust flew up into the air.

“OORAAAAH!”

A ferocious slam of a giant pile of dough onto a stainless steel table, muscular hands gripped it, rolling it out.

They were not the hands of Lou, bulging biceps and throbbing triceps. A six pack bulged underneath his frilly apron and his chest nearly tore it to shreds as he rolled and kneaded the dough. A thick muscular neck led up to a familiar face that didn't match the now new muscular form.

Tak had entirely toned out, his whole body surging with muscles as if he was a bodybuilder.

Just how long had they been here!?

With a firm grip, he held the dough in his fingers, lifting it up into the air, slowly he began to spin, gaining up speed until he turned into a whirlwind.

“ROLL THIS OUT, LAZ!” Tak roared to his partner, with a war shout and red eyes trailed like neon streams as he launched the dough like a giant disk through the air.


 
Last edited:
Elise Cutter
SCENE:
Telephone Line
TIME:
July 20th, 2022
LOCATION:
North District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Dagger
Telephone Line
The slow jazz that played on the radio, turned down to just barely audible, blended in with the hum of the AC, providing much relieving white noise in the silent confines of the car. They had not spoken ever since they left the Princess’s past behind. Elise’s hands gripped tightly on the wheel as she made a right turn at the junction. She was assaulted by innumerable feelings and thoughts about everything that had transpired, mostly her own actions.

She had acted mostly on emotion. Same as it ever was, but different this time, somehow. She killed out of sorrow, hatred, fury for the dead. Here she was now, doing the same thing, for someone alive. She was getting emotional. Her actions were driven by the need, the want to protect a single person. This was wrong. She was always alone. She needed to be alone. A night of lust, not love, here and there, that she could handle. Every man and woman had their needs, after all.

This was different.

It wasn’t a wholly unfamiliar feeling, yet not entirely similar. The question was how could she confront these feelings? She had lost her temper more than once when it came to the Princess. The carefully curated lone wolf persona gave way when it came to her, more than once now. There had only been a handful of other times where Elise Cutter’s feelings peeked through the glacial landscape that was her heart, and somehow, the Princess always managed to drag it out of her.

She opened her mouth, to say the words she wanted to say, then clamped it shut. She couldn’t do it. She would only hurt the Princess more if she did. She didn’t deserve anyone. Like a wolf that howls at the moon, she would not be any closer to her even if she tried.

But she could try.

“You hanging in there, ‘Seri?”

 
Inigo Han
SCENE:
Not Thinking Twice
LOCATION:
Nighttime, Streets of Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Camilla, Inigo
Not Thinking Twice

He hung on her words regarding the NPs. In a world where, even though rare, HPs could dominate any situation if they had the right power for it. Rather than use it as a weapon against the weak, powers like that could be used to raise the weak up, protect them from the evils of the world. While not his primary concern, it was one of the few reasons why he remained here, as a officer of the law. He was their shield and their sword. He gripped the handle of his cup tightly. So many got hurt, and so many go undefended in the dark like this. The police certainly tried to help, but they were understaffed, outnumbered, and surrounded on all sides by enemies. Some even, crawling within their numbers. He shook his head, and turned his attention to her next comment.

“I’d delegate my work to my colleagues as well, but you know how it is.” He blew into his coffee, and then downed it all in one gulp. He wasn’t much for savouring the bitter tones of the dark liquid. The burning at the back of his throat was enough of an ordeal, much less the stabbing of the bitter aroma. “Want something done, might as well do it yourself, right?” He offered her a smile. “Like cooking. Anyway, have you heard that mayonnaise and ketchup make for a really good dressing?”

And so it went. Just the two of them at a lonely cafe out in nowhere, their somethings and nothings and their laughter breaking the silence of the night.


He shielded his eyes from the passing lights of the arriving car. “Looks like your chariot’s here, Cinderella.” He stood up with her. He hesitated for a second, then offered her a hand to escort her to her car. “A little ways past midnight, and too late for the ball, but at least it’s here. Next time, wish for a prince, not a second-rate knight with groceries.” He smirked, clearly intending the self-deprecating comment as a passing joke.




Roda the Red Roda the Red
 
HITOSHI YAMAKAWA
CS Link
SCENE:
Back in the Game
TIME:
Post Arc-3; July 5
LOCATION:
Boustan [A metropolis about a four hour drive from New Oasis]
PARTICIPANTS:
Hitoshi, Charlie, Milo
BACK IN THE GAME
The clinic burst with action as the Phoenixes, led by Charlie, brought Hitoshi inside; various cabinets lined the walls of a moderately sized "pharmacy", providing various illicit medicines and treatments to those who are unable to visit a regular hospital - whether by circumstance or by existence. A small tv played on what appeared to be a cashier's countertop, an ad tune jingling through the static. Another doorway led straight into a more sterile room as a doctor's head poked out on hearing the commotion. Wearing a facemask, his tired eyes widened on seeing the condition of his newest patient and he quickly waved a hand without hesitation. "Bring him in here! Set him on the table..."

Once Hitoshi was laid on his back, the doctor took a quick look at the wounds as his eyes became a cloudy grey in colour as if he was scanning the man. "3 inch deep wound... no damage to intestines or kidney..." he said aloud, turning to a tray of equipment and prepared to operate. "By the looks of it, you three were involved in some bad shit." the doctor then said, before snapping his fingers to Charlie. "You. Check the door, make sure you weren't followed. Would be bad for business if this place turned into a warzone."

The doctor then shifted focus to Milo: "You. Put that doll down and apply pressure on the wound." he then said as he went to get gloves, rummaging through a nearby drawer.

"No, really... I'm fine... just a scratch..." Hitoshi tried to joke before groaning aloud as his body spasmed from the pain. "...ok maybe not."


Roda the Red Roda the Red Elenion Aura Elenion Aura
 
HITOSHI YAMAKAWA
CS Link
SCENE:
LYRICAL MISERY
TIME:
Pre-Arc 3; Nov 11, 2021
LOCATION:
THE SERENITY - BAR AND EATERY, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Hitoshi, Hiachi
LYRICAL MISERY
When Hiachi started to cry, Hitoshi almost dropped his glass as he turned his attention to his ailing companion. "Whoa whoa hey now, it's alright..." he started to say, suddenly becoming more serious than he had been during his tenure at the Serenity. His eyes darted between her covered face and her hands as he hovered his hands near her in a vain attempt to provide comfort. But truthfully, what could he do? She was miserable. Even if she had managed to drown it in alcohol and karaoke, the truth of the matter was that her pain remained.

Much like his own that he tried so, so hard to obliterate over the years without much success. He then let out a sigh before giving a soft chuckle.

"C'mon kid... so what if you failed those exams?" Hitoshi then said, standing up next to her as she continued to bury the shame under her hands. "You got your whole life ahead of you, y'know? Along the way there will be some bumps, sure, but... you'll still be up on your feet."

He then pointed a finger towards himself: "I mean, look at me!" Hitoshi then said with a pained smile, managing to draw Hiachi's attention away from crying as reddened eyes stared up at him. "I'm a fuckup of monumental proportions. I've pissed and thrown away every good thing in my life! My future is drowned in booze and whatever new packet of drugs I come across. I don't got anything to look forward to. But you? You got the whole world to look out for! Those friends left you? Well... SCREW. THEM. Assholes! They're missing out!"

Hitoshi then gave a pat to Hiachi's back: "And the pain is only temporary. 'Cause eventually, you gotta get on with your life! So dry those cheeks, and let's get the fuck back on stage and sing our hearts out to some tunes to tell the world to FUCK OFF for tonight!"


miki miki
 
TAKAONNA
SCENE:
Blood Within The Pavement Cracks
LOCATION:
Central District Sewers
PARTICIPANTS:
Dagger, Markus
BLOOD WITHIN THE PAVEMENT CRACKS
She was not alone in here.

That became apparent the moment dogs' barking reverberated through the labyrinthian sewers. More so when feet splashed through the sewage, running, chasing.

The Takaonna never liked the sewers. It smelled, and flooded with dangerous currents during rainy days. But it was her only way around New Oasis. Save for the odd homeless man, she was alone here. That effectively made it her turf.

And as the hint of a breeze found her, and she twitched toward the noises, the Takaonna decided it was time to defend it.

A quiet groan echoed from a narrow pipe beside Markus, oozing the green liquid. He might not have even noticed it at first; it could have been some metal machinery for all he knew. Then a thump. Thump. Thump. Louder and louder. More sewage gushed out, pushed by something inside.

Metal crunched and bent. Grey shot forth from the pipe—a zombie-like hand chalked with grime—wrapping its narrow fingers around the Tiger King. It pinned Markus against the side of the wall.

Another arm flew from the pipe, its length disappearing into the darkness. It latched onto the side, pulling the main body from however far down it was. The groans grew louder.

Elenion Aura Elenion Aura simj26 simj26 thebigfella thebigfella
 
RYOJI KUROTSUCHI
SCENE:
Futility Smells of Rot, Feebleness Tastes of Bile
TIME:
July 21st, 2022 | | Post-Outbreak
LOCATION:
Underground Arena, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Mugen, Kisara, Pei
FUTILITY SMELLS OF ROT, FEEBLENESS TASTES OF BILE
"What now!?" He hissed, bubbling rage simmering nearer to the surface with each passing second—measured in time by the pulse of the bulging vein in his forehead—barely concealed beneath the veneer of order that he clung to.

As his head snapped towards the entrance, taking in the new figure before him, a thin undercurrent of fear worked its way inside Ryoji's otherwise steely mind. Not fear of the woman who’d bored her way in, blasting away the underground fighting ring's steel reinforced doors, and the acolytes he had left there to guard it, in her wake (albeit temporarily, at least where the latter was concerned). No. But fear of failure. Fear of inability to get this rabble under control before His arrival.

Fear of fecklessness.

He turned in the direction of the woman as his compatriots beat back the tide of those who would attempt to flee a second time. When would they learn? Life would be so much easier, so much simpler, if people simply obeyed. He glowered, first at the hooded one for even considering speaking out of turn to this interloper. He clucked his tongue, having almost forgotten how green some of these faithful were. Before he could turn his attention properly to the woman, it was stolen by another voice speaking without permission. Asking questions. As if it had a right to answers.

Ryoji barely held back a scoff, even as he answered. Perhaps it had been that word. Purpose. It meant more than they could possibly know. The lucky few would be educated.

"You are all being given the gift of opportunity. To find meaning and purpose in your lives." He addressed the room by way of the one who had asked. Only then did his eyes trail back to the one who had disrupted. The one whose cavalier nature flew in the face of the great work they would be doing here, tonight.

"You." He said, leveling his blade in her direction by way of pointing. "You can fight. Can you not? Stand against that wall." He nodded his head toward the far wall, where the would-be warriors had assembled. Their mettle yet untested. Even as he said the words, he reconsidered, tilting his head to one side. Appraising her. Assessing her. He finished his calculation quickly, re-leveling his sword in her direction.

"Actually. No. You won’t submit. Will you? You won’t. Those who don’t bend will break."

Outside the sky cracked crimson.

Still slick with the memory of freshly spilled blood, Ryoji's blade swung for her throat, its master leaping from the stage to the threshold in a single bound.

 
DAIKI NISHIKAZE
SCENE:
Futility Smells of Rot, Feebleness Tastes of Bile
TIME:
July 21st, 2022 | | Post-Outbreak
LOCATION:
Underground Arena, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Mugen, Kisara, Pei
FUTILITY SMELLS OF ROT, FEEBLENESS TASTES OF BILE
From outside the control room there came a loud crash. Like somebody had just knocked over a shelf full of cookware and let it clatter to the floor. It sounded like a mess. Daiki was glad he wasn't going to be the one to have to clean it up. Next there came a knock on the door, the civility of it shocking the general temperature of chaos, violence, and confusion that seemed to permeate all nooks and crannies of that underground death hovel.

"Yo. I'm comin' in. Don't wanna fight, though. Be cool." He said through the door before pushing his way inside.

Daiki let out a low whistle. Taking in the whole scene. The wall-to-wall screens. The little robot drinking a soda. The bloody tarp. It looked... Well, it looked just about par for the course, with all he'd seen so far. "You got some of us real good, y'know." The blonde said without affectation, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he stared casually over at him. Standing such that the view of the carnage in the hallway was visible enough. That he stood unscathed having traversed through all that said more than words could.

An expression of recollection dawned across his face. Holding up one finger in a 'wait a second', he reached with his other hand for something stuffed inside his back pocket. Producing a crumpled piece of laminated paper depicting the telltale demon face and the advert for the tournament of the day. Glancing knowingly from the face in ink to the face in flesh, he asked in a polite drawl, "I'm guessin' this's you."

 
Hiachi Ito
SCENE:
Lyrical Misery
LOCATION:
The Serenity, South District
DATE:
Pre-Arc 3 | Nov 11, 2021
PARTICIPANTS:
Hiachi, Hitoshi
LYRICAL MISERY

She could hear him talking to her between the gasps and sobs. When she lifted her head from her sleeves, she could see her reflection. All wobbly in the remains of the gin and tonic, and that the rims of her eyes had turned dry and red. But those large, swirling irises remained the same.

Hiachi was back to herself—as she always had been.

She banged her forehead back down into the bar counter. It reverberated around the room with a loud thunk. After turning her head to the side to face the man again, her mouth couldn’t help but warble.

“So what… so what...!” She shook her head. “So… EVERYTHING! I’ve failed at the only thing I actually want to be good at…”

Every scraped knee, every B on her report card, every sorrow, every despair from being born extraordinarily disappointing; she felt everything. Her ability to suck it up and bear it was broken.

“I’m broken,” She sobbed. It felt like the deep dark truth. She couldn’t take it. She crumpled into herself.

But then his tone turned more frantic. More messy. Less qualified to give her mentally sound advice. She perked up her head again.

Within the whirlwind of her emotions, she felt every impact of his words. Drugs, drinks, destruction. Everything she balanced above on a tightrope. He was the fall she feared.

But he didn’t seem scary in the slightest. He was here, giving her a metaphysical shoulder to cry on and literal advice.

So he was right, she supposed. For all she had always believed, she knew her fate wasn’t bound. Perhaps it was another six months or so in school. She could take six more months working at that stupid convenience store. She could take six more months of studying harder, keeping her head down amongst people who saw her as a prop.

And she could see the steps she could take, into the life she wanted, far from everything she knew. Across the planet. Or just across Amestria, maybe. Not in New Oasis, not anywhere near what she used to be. At the end of the tunnel, there had to be light—even if she couldn’t see it yet.

Pain was temporary. For as long as she drowned it out, it didn’t exist.

It all felt so true within her drunken stupor. She hoped it would last.

The tears didn’t stop, but the sobbing did. Her tightened throat freed up, and she could finally breathe. Hiachi tilted her head back abruptly to down the rest of the drink. One fist slammed into the counter while the other wiped away stray alcohol from her mouth.

”...Let’s sing another song.”





 
Last edited:
Ezra Knight
CS Link
SCENE:
Clad in Golden Dreams


TIME:
June 16th, 2022


LOCATION:
West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Ezra, Passeri, Markus, Hiachi, Takakazu, Elias, Missy
CLAD IN GOLDEN DREAMS
With each passing second, the impromptu battlefield became increasingly chaotic. As partygoers finished clearing out, thick smoke and oppressive light took their place. Despite the sudden appearance of the obscurement, Ezra did his best to keep his narrowing eyes on the quickly approaching form of the tattooed assassin.

Feet planted firmly on the ground, he tightened his grip on his weapon, waiting for a moment of opportunity. There was still a shred of worry and fear deep inside of him, something that always came coupled with his life and the lives of others being at stake. However, it was miniscule and contained, only helping to keep him aware and alert instead of indecisive and afraid. For the first time in a long time, he truly felt in control.

The opening he'd been looking for eventually came when a sweltering bombardment unexpectedly rained down from above, shattering a well-placed pink barrier with a leg-shaking boom. In the aftermath of the explosion, he found himself caught in a shower of crumbling glowing shards. Meanwhile, his feet were now submerged in the flash melted ice that once coated the ballroom floors.

Needing to act before the remnants of Passeri's barrier vanished completely, Ezra worked his Potential through his body, moving above and below. He snatched a fading sliver of hard light, forcing its radiance to return as it and the rest of its fellow pieces reunited to form the previously broken barrier above everyone's heads.

As the layer of defense reformed, so did the pools of water below. Intending on halting the assassin's movement, he reverted the liquid field around her back to the Tiger King's bone-chilling ice. At the same time, he wound back the clock on the marble flooring that lined her path, breaking apart the hardened sheets to reveal the strong adhesive underneath. It was a simultaneous act of destruction and reconstruction, one he hoped would keep her trapped in place.

He charged forward, forcing the effects of his Potential into the ground with each step. As his approach quickly stripped away paths of escape, he changed his grip on his sword. Rather than slice at the contract killer, he opted to strike out with the hardened pommel in an attempt to knock her out.

While many things had changed for him, he would never compromise on this value. He was no killer.




 
Passeri Park
SCENE:
Telephone Line
TIME:
July 20th, 2022
LOCATION:
North District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Elise
Telephone Line
"Mmm... I'm..."

Ever since they'd left the apartment building, Passeri hadn't felt like herself. An eerie calm had taken her, lulled in by the gentle waves of jazz playing from the radio. She was tired, yes, and the embers of her fury still glowed within her chest, but...

"I dunno." Even as she spoke, her eyes didn't leave the window, and neither did her focus shift. Atop the blurry streets of the North, her vision was filled by Elise's reflection. Whenever she turned away, and then whenever her mind wandered, that was where her attention would return. Her ragged profile, and the unsure furrow in her brow. The still fresh recollection of what she'd said in that apartment, and how it had made everything else feel so faraway and small.

"I was furious, you know. When I saw their names in that book, and then when I told you to go and get my phone... All I could think about was hurting them. About whether or not I could... Kill them before you got back." A steady breath, to still a trembling resolve. The sensation, the blood lust she'd felt was still fresh in her heart, and now that all was said and done it had been replaced by doubt. Doubt as to whether or not she'd made a mistake in sparing them. There was still a part of her that wanted to see them bleeding on the floor.

"But, before I could do anything you were already there." Like she always was. "And I couldn't even remember what I'd been thinking when I'd sent you away to begin with. And I..."

A sigh. What was she even trying to say? Had she always been this awkward of a person? And how on earth did this van feel both so large and so tiny at once? The distance between one seat and the next felt boundless, and yet that between each of the doors no wider than a needle's breadth. She cradled her head in her hands, silver locks pressed tight between small, tired fingertips.

"...Thank you. I don't know what I would've done if you weren't there. You know, I..."

"Whenever you're with me, Elise, I feel so much more..."

There was an edge in front of her. A spiraling, black abyss. One she'd stared into dozens of times now. One that had been a familiar companion since she'd first left her parents behind. A gap. One that Passeri Park and Brandy Baker both shared. One that she herself had carved.

A fortress named isolation.

"Hah..."

And a cage named loneliness.

"I don't even know what where to start. You know... I've barely even known you for a year now, and I already can't imagine what my life would be like without you in it anymore...." Passeri kept her eyes on the floor. She didn't want to see Elise's face. The expressions she imagined painted on top of it. Confusion, disgust, and any other terrible thing her mind could conjure.

"I don't even know what I'm saying right now. Sorry, I..." She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt wetness begin to fill them. It had had been years since she'd last cried. Her tears were the one thing she wouldn't give to the world. That was what she'd told herself on the day she'd become Passeri Park. Never again would she cry, never again would she be some meek, vulnerable plaything for the world around her. But maybe now, maybe for her, she could...

Maybe...

"I just... Thank you, Elise." Passeri drew a long, shaky breath as she felt her cheeks turn damp. Her words were messy, and spoken over themselves again and again. "For being there for me. Thank you... Thank you... So much."

But for once, they were uncut. Real.

"Thank you..."

Though still not quite the ones she wanted to say.

 
[media]N/A[/MEDIA]
SYLVAINE VALENTINO
CS Link
SCENE:
Reparations
TIME:
Post-Outbreak, July 21st, 2022
LOCATION:
Ruined Bridge, North/East District
PARTICIPANTS:
Bash, Shen, Kisara, Kanna, Sang-cheol, Celestine, Sabrina, Peyton, Raphael, Ruriko, Lloyd, Jesper [Guardian], Sylvaine
Reparations


Sylvaine resisted the urge to roll his eyes, puffing out a long breath through his nose as he remained lazily leaning against his staff. His gaze was intense and unfaltering, even as Lloyd initially stepped forward to try and put a stop to the chaos slowly unfolding. He had to admit, it was somewhat difficult to pay attention to both what was going on in front of him, and the main meeting happening off to the side. However, it sounded like it was coming to some sort of conclusion... hopefully a peaceful one. But he somewhat doubted that.

Turning his full attention back to his own situation to try and de-escalate it, he had to pause, intently listening to Lloyd's threatening tale of seeking out Raph to do away with him in a violent and awfully unpleasant way. Sylvaine shook his head ever so slightly. He certainly despised the Serpents, himself, but it was much better to resist the anger, though he certainly didn't blame his fellow Dragon for allowing himself to vent out some frustration at the Serpents. He turned his gaze as another Serpent approached, appearing amused by what had just been said.

Sylvaine straightened up slightly, clearing his throat and speaking for the first time as he turned his attention to Lloyd. "As much as it is amusing to watch you chew out a Serpent, it is important to remember what we are here for. To clear up any confusion in the air in a peaceful manner. So please... do not give this brash little snake what he so desperately craves." He side-eyed Raph as he spoke it, though maintained his neutral expression, carrying nothing but boredom in his eyes.


 

Users who are viewing this thread

Back
Top