𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒔 - 𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅

[Mole]

_💡

[Mole]

_{S E E B E L O W}

[Mole]

_{casual roleplay | discord.com
apocalypse & magical fantasy}

W I P

יְהוָה שָׁמָּה

^{_{T H E N E W J E R U S A L E M}}

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L O R E

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יֶדַע עַם

They came to us, sprinkling like sand in an hour glass. Their gold glistened in the desert sun, and their powers were more encompassing than the sky. Slowly, their magic weaved a new world around us, and we became inhabitants of a new phenomenon. Forever our reality would be altered. We built temples for them at the beckoning of their promises. We practiced their words as disciples to these new religious orders. We became citizens of a new world.

For a while, the world was at peace while the beings of the sky enlightened us. They guarded and protected us from the evil spirits that once plagued our world. We promised our lives to them. We lived in their paradise. Until one day, when our guards were at complete rest, a new set of rules began transforing around us. These rules road on dark, shadowy horses. Their dark veils covered their large treacherous bodies. Their powers reigned storms of evil upon our world. They made newer, bigger promises. They created new creeds, which split us apart. They forced us into never-ending wars. They plagued us in a famine of darkness. They cracked whips of lightning over the golden beings we had once called gods. Again, we found ourselves slaves to our fallen nature. However, this time would be the last time.

With one tear of hope, a prophecy was foretold. It came from the Old City of Jerusalem as a vision in a dream. An oracle interpreted it as thus, the fighting will continue to generations. Humans will be sacrificed. Their blood and torment will paint the memories of every living thing. They will be faced with a choice, to succumb to the powerful urges of their fallen nature or endure the pain and suffering of fighting for their eternal freedom. A New Jerusalem is coming. It shall come down from the Holy of Hies and establish Eschaton. Those who choose to follow the darkness will perish, but those who fight for the light will endure forever in the world to come. And such generations have come to pass that we have been taught to believe, the New Jerusalem has already come. Some believe the gates have already been closed and locked to those not already inhabiting the Holy Paradise. Others have gone in conquest of finding the Holy Paradise solely for corrupted reasons, whether personal gain or destroying it altogether. Regardless, those who seek shall find, and not all those who wander are lost.

S E T T I N G & P R E M I S E

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מסגרת והנחת יסוד

The world is in the midst of the apocalypse. The world is war torn. She’s been dying for generations, now, and some wonder if the world has already turned to hell — death is the only escape, which many use as their only option. Men have gone crazy looking for Eschaton, the New Jerusalem, the Holy Paradise. They have gone mad with power, pride, hunger, lust, envy, ennui. They will stop at nothing to escape the war torn wastelands, even if it means killing himself. Yet, mankind still struggles onward in vain hopes for something...

Regardless of who your character is or where he or she has been, each character has found himself in the Fertile Crescent, the most war torn area of the world. Legends say that one of the twelve gates to the New Jerusalem lies within the Fertile Crescent, the start of civilization and the area most inhabited by the mystical beings who came generations ago.

Technology has not advanced since the insurgence of magic. Mankind relies more heavily on mysticism and nature as the beasts have taken over. The dragons of the sky make traveling by air dangerous, and the leviathans make traveling by sea perilous. Warships inhabit both the sky and water. Beasts, tanks, and guns roam the lands, but cars still exist. Therefore, travel is not impossible but very difficult and risky.

Your character is in search for the New Jerusalem. Your character's reason for finding the Holy Land is unique and of itself. Maybe your character is in search for the New Jerusalem as a task from a powerful warlord. Maybe your character is a power hungry lord. Maybe your character is with a group that is seeking refuge and escape from the suffering the apocalypse has caused. Maybe your character prays to be united with his or her family once, again. Maybe, it is none of these reasons, but there is a reason. Your character is armed. Your character may know a little magic or how to wield some sort of weapon. Your character has scars from the world. Some of these scars are visible. Some of these scars are invisible. But, just like your character's reason, his or her scars are there. They are memories of his or her history, and if history repeats itself for those who do not learn from it, your character can stop at nothing to find the New Jerusalem.

Every human has his or her own mortal flaw. Some of those flaws are the same as others. Some are different than others. Some humans have more flaws than other humans. However, every human's flaw affects him or her in its own unique way. What is your character's flaw?

This is not to say every human is damned. Every human has his or her own excelling virtue. These virtue redeem mankind and give hope in continuing to live. What is your character's virtue?

Throughout the journey, which trait will win: the flaw or the virtue? Choose your traits wisely, because the sands of time are slipping away, and not everyone has the ability to make it to Eschaton, no matter how good he or she believes himself or herself to be.

M A P

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מקומות

P L A C E S

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מַפָּה

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C H A R A C T E R S H E E T

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דְמוּת

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First Name Last Name, Age
_{Height cm / Weight km
R E L I G I O N : Religion
F L A W : Flaw
V I R T U E : Virtue}

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P E R S O N A L I T Y

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Include information about your character's flaw(s) and virtue(s).

A R M O R & W E A P O N R Y

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Pictures are optional.

S K I L L S

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List and explain five.

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Character's Backstory and reason for searching for the New Jerusalem.

Code

[center][img]i.imgur.com/ERiecx2.png?1[/img][/cent… Name Last Name, Age
[sub][color=gray]Height cm / Weight km[/color]
[color=bca346]R E L I G I O N :[/color] [color=gray]Religion[/color]
[color=bca346]F L A W :[/color] [color=gray]Flaw[/color]
[color=bca346]V I R T U E :[/color] [color=gray]Virtue[/color][/sub][/indent][/indent]

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[indent][indent][color=bca346]P E R S O N A L I T Y[/color][/indent][/indent]

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[indent][indent][h1][/h1][color=silver] Include information about your character's flaw(s) and virtue(s).[/color][/indent][/indent]
[indent][indent][color=bca346]A R M O R & W E A P O N R Y[/color][/indent][/indent]

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[indent][indent][h1][/h1][color=silver] Pictures are optional.[/color][/indent][/indent]
[indent][indent][color=bca346]S K I L L S[/color][/indent][/indent]

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[indent][indent][h1][/h1][color=silver] List and explain five.[/color][/indent][/indent]

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[indent][indent][h1][/h1][color=silver] Character's Backstory and reason for searching for the New Jerusalem.[/color][/indent][/indent]

⬇

[Mole]

♪

Cont.

דתות ואלוהויות

^{_{R E L I G I O N S A N D D E I T I E S}}

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C H R I S T I A N I T Y

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H E L L E N I S M

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I S L A M

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K E M E T I S M

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W I C C A

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כַּשָׁפוּת

^{_{M A G I C}}

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S P E L L S

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A spoken word or form of words held to have magic power. The language of spells is sometimes archaic and is not always understood by the reciter. In some cases meaningless but familiar terms are believed to be efficacious because of their traditional value. Much magical language, however, is clearly and directly correlated with the aim of the recital. In symbolic statement by analogy it represents and foreshadows the technical achievement, and metaphor and simile are freely used. An example is a Maori spell giving speed and grace to a canoe, which speaks of the swiftness of a bird on the wing and the lightness of a sea gull and which uses such onomatopoeic effects as speed noises or the wailing of the sea.

In blessings and curses, which are similar types of verbal expressions, the efficacy of the recitation is also believed to be connected to the magical power of the words themselves or to the sacred power of a supernatural being. Certain gestures as well as words may be bound up with the act of blessing, as in putting one’s hands on the head of the person being blessed. The curse, a wish to cause harm or misfortune, is usually directed against others, although an important form of curse, associated with oaths, contracts, and treaties, is conditionally directed against oneself, should one fail to keep one’s word or tell the truth.

M A T E R I A L S

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Much anthropological literature refers to the objects used in magic as "medicines," hence the popular use of the term medicine man for magician. These medicines include herbs, animal parts, gemstones, sacred objects, or props used in performance and are thought to be potent in themselves or empowered by incantations or rituals. In some cases, medicines that are intended to heal are physiologically effective; for example, the poppy is used widely as an anesthetic, willow bark is used by some as an analgesic, and garlic and onions being used as antibiotics. Other medicines that are meant to cause harm, such as toad extracts and bufadienolides, are, in fact, known poisons. Other materials have a symbolic relationship to the intended outcome, as with divination from animal parts. In scapulamancy (divination from a sheep shoulder bone), for example, the sheep’s bone reflects the macrocosmic forces of the universe. In sorcery a magician may employ something belonging to the intended victim (e.g., hair, nail parings, or a piece of clothing) as part of the ritual. The rite itself may be symbolic, as with the drawing of protective circles in which to call up spirits, the sprinkling of water on the ground to make rain, or the destruction of a wax image to harm a victim. Plants or other objects can also symbolize desired outcomes: in rites to ensure a canoe’s speed, an example is the use of light vegetable leaves to represent the ease with which the craft will glide over the water; another example is to place a stone in a tree fork to postpone the setting of the sun; and a final example is that a people once swallowed gold to cure jaundice.

R I T E S

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Because magic is based on performance, ritual and the magician’s knowledge and ability play a significant role in its efficacy. The performance of magic also presumes an audience, either the spiritual forces addressed, the patient-client, or the community. Both the magician and the rite itself are concerned with the observance of taboos and the purification of the participants. Magicians, like priests presiding over religious rituals, observe restrictions of diet or other certain activities to demarcate the rite from ordinary and profane activities and to invest it with sanctity. Illusions are the most easy to perform.

F U N C T I O N S

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Foremost among the many roles magic plays are its “instrumental” and “expressive” functions. Based in the attempt to influence nature or human behaviour, magic’s instrumental function is measured by its efficacy in achieving the desired result. Anthropologists identify three main types of instrumental magic: the productive, the protective, and the destructive. Productive magic is employed to solicit a successful outcome from human labour or nature, such as bountiful hunt or harvest or good weather. Protective magic aims to defend an individual or community from the vagaries of nature and the evil of others. The use of amulets to ward off contagious diseases or the recitation of charms before a journey are examples of this protective function. Lastly, destructive magic, or sorcery, is intended to harm others, often is motivated by envy, and is socially disruptive. Consequently, the use of countermagic against sorcery may relieve some social tension within a community.

Magic’s expressive function results from the symbolic and social meanings attached to its practices, though its performers may not necessarily be aware of this function. Magic can provide a sense of group identity through shared rituals that give power or strength to members. At the same time, it can isolate the magician as a special person within or on the margins of society. Magic can also serve as a creative outlet or form of entertainment. It is, therefore, inseparable from the total system of thought, belief, and practice in a given society.

טֶכנוֹלוֹגִיָה

^{_{T E C H N O L O G Y}}

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יצורים

^{_{C R E A T U R E S}}

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A L M I R A J

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D R A G O N

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G R I F F I N

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H E L L H O U N D

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K E R E S H

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S L E I P N I R

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T I G R I S

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N / A

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[Mole]

_{T I M E : One Week After Human Arrival
L O C A T I O N : Lodge, Port10
I N T E R A C T I O N S : @JJ Doe
T A G S : @JJ Doe , @Conscripts
E Q U I P M E N T :}

[+]

_N/A

Quietly, although not quite peacefully, Aurora had waited for Barrock to collect his information. Her lips were holding back a tremble as she thought of Zara. She had been there for both her mother and her father when they had passed onto the next life. The darkness had hardly taken a hold of her during both those times.

Rowan was all she had left, and she was all he had left. They both clung to each other dearly. And yet, she felt a change within herself when he showed little remorse for Zara’s death. She blamed herself. How had she become so attached to another creature in such a short amount of time?

She thought about what her father had taught her what he had known about humans. Was this a power they held? Curiously, she thought of Vasco. She could not bare to lose another precious soul.

The emptiness remained, unfilled, the more she contemplated her state and why she was so distraught, until the blackness overcame her. Her skin felt anxious and calm all at the same time. For a brief moment, she began to see color.

Yellow. Red. Blue.

It was a consuming flame, growing brighter and brighter, and she was becoming one with it, until the sight became almost unbearable. It was intense and colorful, like a blinding image becoming clearer and clearer through the black abyss.

Vasco was there. He had so many scars sketched over his skin. It never ceased to amaze Aurora how little she noticed as a blind creature when vision like this grappled her.

And there, nearly crunched between lodging floor and orc was her brother, her dear brother with silvery locks, draping. (How did she know it was a lodge?) Rowan looked dead to her, though, something — a little thing, like a pale fire, still flickered beneath his skin. She could sense it in the nearly whiteness of his cheeks.

There were others, like another Dark Elf, different from the who had murdered Zara. There was a Demihuman, too —

She saw so much in so little time, like a flashback or something. Voices, a tackle, a kiss.

Then suddenly, a deep voice echoed through the vision. The sight blurred with the darkness. One became the other, and the other became one. It was unreasonable how they merged and transformed into each other. But so they did, and they disappeared and travelled far away to allow her blindness its own passage, again.

"What happened?" Barrock was asking when Aurora awakened from her vision. The firm fire within the good Orc was blazing and momentous.

“I…” Her mouths as trying to mouth what had happened. “I’m sorry, I… I had a vision,” her voice was in a hushed whisper, like she was telling him a secret. “Vasco and my brother are in danger,” she paused to catch her thoughts. “at the River Port Lodge.” Again, another pause. “They are being attacked by Orcs, a Demihuman and… a Dark Elf.”

Her hands came to the hood of her cloak. They tugged at the seams, pulling and casting more of a shadow over her face. “We should hurry and go, now.” She did not bother to ask if he had gotten what he needed.

[Mole]

_{L U N C H E O N}

^{________________________________________________________________________________}

The luncheon was featured in a large electronic bubble floating above Elliot Bay. The water was wearing a projection with sparkling lights that made it a dazzling spectacle with the occasional flare of some iridescent flare-rain display. Rarely did the bay make such an appearance.

Inside the holographic bubble was an extravagant dining hall of floating cybernetic tables. The tables had a fresh whiteness all over them. The screens displaying on the table tops adorned placemats, silverware, fancy plates, and frilly napkins folded into swans. There was a centerpiece on each table — a genetically modified floral arrangement that changed colors with the general ambiance.

Faux-trees with plastiglass trunks stood at various locations around the hall, giving a glitzy, clean, earthy feel. Whatever that meant. Inside the trunks was an iridescent art of wires and sparks. The trees were wearing plastiglass leaves like gems, and decorating those gems were ornamental fruit with a scent of rose and lavender and something else to relax the attendees sponsor for the event.

A little ways from the dining hall was a side area of large tea cups with tables in the middle. The tea cups spun around in a synchronized style, and many attendees were enjoying a drink on these tilting devices. Each tea cup was fashioned to some sort of decadence. They were all transparent and bejeweled with an arrangement of prosperous subtly glowing flowers and gold articulating various angles and oddities to each particular ride. Rides were not for free.

Around the inside perimeter of the bubble were oblong floating tables that housed various expensive items calculated for a silent auction. Net runners were at work to guarantee Mr. So-So his gadget and Ms. What’s-her-face that emerald necklace, but no one would dare mention it.

Some Surplus magician dressed in an eccentric suit of patches and class was helping form a small crowd for those uninterested in the auction. He was making a dizzying display of tips and tricks with his cybernetics and augmentations. He was probably being underpaid, as a charitable contribution, but at least he was being paid and smiling. He was accepting tips for the charity.

Opposite of the Surplus magician was a Cybercom band. They were playing some jazz-type music. Occasionally, the music would get hip and off-beat and experimental, but mostly, it tried to stay with generically pre-AutoAmerica tunes. No one crowded around the band. People merely walked by and had a slight acknowledgement. The band blended into the backdrop nicely.

Cybercoms in eccentrically old-fashioned servant outfits decorated the place as servers who held various hors d'oeuvres, like sushi, tempura, and sparkling beverages with a glow.

Enforcers made themselves known. Bodyguards graced the dining hall like the decadent ornaments on the plastiglass trees. It was obviously a place with high society people, and any scum who somehow got invited was not allowed to get away with blinking out of turn. The hanging chandeliers, dripping electronic jewels, were only an extra pair of eyes to maintain this peaceful architecture of a social event.

Below the bubble were small blimps that made periodic trips from the ground and to the entrance of the bubble. At the launching ramp, security was tight, with invitation and barcode scanning, as well as identity matchers. It was a meticulous process, but the entry managed to only hold a minimal line at most, with multiple blimps making their take-off at the same time. Table numbers were assigned at check-in, catered through the attendees’ barcodes. Proper attire was also required, but word on the street, they were taking a lackadaisical approach with the Surplus.

The stage of the luncheon began with everyone mingling and networking. The Surplus were somehow merged with the the Netters. Whether they actually spoke to each other was up for discretion, but the news was adamant to make sure everyone looked like they were having fun.

About one hour into the luncheon, a delightful bell ring was heard. A woman wearing a small, pink flouncy dress with a darker bow at the waist. old-fashion bell from antique pre-AutoAmerica. Her pink lips were in a smile as she spoke, “The Silent Auction is closed! Please, everyone, go to your tables and enjoy our special menu before we invite our guest speakers to make themselves known!” Her voice was just as perky as her candy sweet smile.

Attendees of the luncheon began shuffling towards their tables. The Cybercom waiteresses came bringing salads and filling drink orders. Coffee? Sugar? Creamer? Oh, I’m sorry, I will go bring the tea, right away. Obviously, this place was too posh for Surplus, and they should be counting their blessings and how much they’re willing to donate to make up for what the charity was spending to seat them. It doesn’t always make sense how these volunteer organizations run, but they seem to make money and help those in need.

"I can't believe you wore an el~bee~dee to a luncheon." Bianca scoffed as she sipped on her mimosa, steaming with mind-rain dry ice. She pulled the drink from her lips, and a small touch of colored moisture clung to the glass. She shook her head and decided to change the subject towards Nekatrios and Adam, "I also can't believe you still have human body guards," she said and motioned towards her cybercom. He looked like he belonged at the Luncheon, unlike Adam and Nektarios. They seemed like actors playing their part and trying to ignore the conversation.

“They’re only temp~or~ra~ry,” Annie said. She giggled a little at the thought of getting a new anything. “Besides, my father’s old fashioned. He says it’s the way of Nintendo, to keep things classy. Besides, I’m not the one wearing last year’s Miu Miu collection.” Annie smirked.

The two young women continued their banter before finally settling on a MetaTok hologram picture, taken by Bianca’s Cybercom. They both agreed it looked way better than the official photobooth the Luncheon had to offer, despite not having the Luncheon's retro-vibes. Not soon afterwards, the two Asians took their seats alongside their three bodyguards. Their plastic perfect smiles filtered through the rest of their table's guests.

Annie put her mimosa on the table as she took a seat next to Alejandro. "Wow, a Book Burner!" She looked at him as if he was a piece in the museum. Bianca made a small comment about how small he was compared to the ones she saw on MetaTok, but both agreed he was adorable. However, he to~ta~lly was not as adorable as the cute little middle schooler, also known as Executive D'alessio's son. Oh, and they remembered the days when they would accompany their fathers to these types of things. Now we go at them a~lone.

They greeted Edward D’alessio with their own twenty year-old flirty ways. Who knows? Maybe, they would get lucky. He was still a bachelor, afterall. Plus, his son was like so, so ad~or~able. I mean, just look at his baby cheeks! Soo~ooo, cute!

The last person they greeted was August "Bailey" Hawkins. "It's sooo cute that you came, being a Surplus, and all." Annie started. It was obvious they looked at each guest as some random bystander who should appreciate the fact that they are being graced by their presence -- aside from Mr. D’alessio and his son, of course.

Bianca was too busy sizing-up Bailey to really tsay anything. What was she wearing? Annie's little black dress definitely was needed to offset some of the Surplus fashion sense. She hadn't thought about that until, now. In fact, she had avoided all the Surplus at the event to the best of her ability. Why was there one at her table? Instead of saying anything to Bailey, Bianca looked at her Cybercom. He was dressed to the nines, not unlike Adam and Nektarios, who were being completely ignored as usual. "Trent," she toyed with his tie, "MetaTok a gram of us all," She would edit the Surplus out later.

"As you wish, Bianca." Trent stood from his seat and made a small bow. He acted like one of those JPN-22 Boyfriends-For-Rent. He removed his tie pin, a Starsoft gadget. It opened several layers of itself to look like some cute hologram camera, shaped like a Hello Kitty silhouette. "Say sushi," his head tilted to the side in anticipation for everyone's faces to align to a faux-cheeriness.

In all, it was clear these two bad bitches were going to try to conduct the table and not let anyone take the spotlight from them.

[Mole]

C:\Expanse\Data\User_Data\Suzuki_Takada...

Rap-ture? Suzi didn’t quite understand the implication. It sounded odd and confusing, but the older girl made a joking gesture. Out of nervousness, Suzi smiled agreeably alongside her as she continued listening. It was strangely easier to follow this girl’s lead than Aki-senpai’s.

Suzi’s eyes opened wide at the mention of Digimon. She felt her gaze losing focus as she re-processed this information again. Kudamon was tucked nicely into itself. Resting. Safe.

“Octavia.”

A hand jetted out in front of Suzi. Her eyes regained focus. She took a step back from the brisk movement and blinked several times before putting out her own hand, as well. “Takada Suzuki.” A weak smile formed on her mouth. She felt less assertive, for some reason. Maybe, the excitement was finally wearing on her.

“What did you mean about more than just Digimon inhabiting this world?” She added as she shook Octavia’s hand. She glanced at the others and looked back at Octavia for discernment.

[Mole]

^{O U T F I T}

_{^{L O C A T I O N : Sadie's Party
I N T E R A C T I O N S : Princess Sadie @Potter
M E N T I O N S : Drake Edwards @Lava Alckon}}

His sister's response was less than satisfactory, and he could feel a line of contemplation drawing over his own mouth as he cautioned himself from saying anything that would crush her spirits. She was being too naive, and while he always enjoyed her air of innocence -- and was quite in fact keen on guarding it, he only saw this clown toying with his sister and ruining her.

His mind drifted to Lady Thea. He did not want his dearest, most beloved Sadie becoming like her. Suddenly, Prince Felix became aware that he had not thought of her once since stepping foot into the princess' party. He had been so so determined not to let thoughts of her ruin his sister's party, he had not realized that the Lady had not even shown her face. He found it a little odd but shrugged off the thought immediately.

“Your tender heart is most sought after. It is an honest and enjoyable characteristic about you, my sister.” He paused as his eyes gazed over Sir Matthias' son. He was a delightful child, although a little pouty. He was not one to chastise or bring too much criticism over Sir Matthias, though. "Lady Lyra speaks wisely about the subject. Thank you," he nodded to Lady Lyra.

He turned his attention back to the Princess. "I cannot speak any words to adequately explain how cherished you are, as a sister, friend, or especially as a noble of the Caesonian Kingdom. Many more of these letters will come from different avenues in due time. As you said, always guard your heart. It is something you have done well your whole life, my dear sister."

With that, he leaned over and gave her a simple kiss on the cheek.

[Mole]

_{^{L O C A T I O N : Kitchen
I N T E R A C T I O N S : N/A
M E N T I O N S : Lady Smithwood, Riona, Prince Felix}}

Mathilda found herself bustled into the kitchen. Delicate snacks for the afternoon festivities were an expectation. The whole day seemed to be a whirlwind, and Mathilda was having trouble catching her breath.

In fact, she still had yet to deliver Prince Felix’s letter to Lady Thea. This was not the biggest problem, however. The biggest problem was that she had misplaced the letter somewhere between the morning and lunch. She knew her father and mother were turning in their graves. God rest their souls.

She thought to find Prince Felix and explain as politely as possible about the situation. She prayed he would have some sort of mercy on her. Mathilda had witnessed several of the reprimands that Riona had to endure, and she was sure this was something worthy of such a punishment.

Fortunately or Unfortunately, Mathilda could not find the Prince anywhere. She checked his itinerary, and he made no appearance at any of the events. He was no where to be seen.

Perhaps, he is unwell.

Mathilda checked the infirmary and his bedroom, but alas, there was no trace of him. It was as if he had simply vanished, until rumor came through the kitchen that he had left the kingdom. He had broken his engagement with Lady Thea Smithwood. For what seemed like forever, Mathilda could finally breathe.

All that worrying was for nothing! But, serves me right for not fulfilling my obligation, anyhow.

[Mole]

Human character

K A N N A H I G A S H I
_{Female , 13}

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Kanna is a shy, well-rounded girl. She spends most of her time studying or playing little games in her room and keeping out of her older brother’s business. Recently, Kanna’s parents have filed for divorce. The reasons are unclear to [name], but she no longer sees her father as much. Occasionally, she will receive text messages from him — pictures of his work as a neuropsychologist for NASDA. Other than that, he seems too preoccupied and out of touch to make any real connection with her. Her mother has picked up a small secretarial job and is more stressed out and tired than Kanna can ever remember her mother being in her entire life. Determined to not let this affect her, Kanna has started seeing her friends less and keeping to her own imaginary world and schoolwork.

S O V E R E I G N C O N N E C T I O N

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_{Z H U Q I A O M O N}

E Q U I P M E N T

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Yellow messenger bag (purse), pocket mirror, comb, chapstick (Mentholatum), tissues (Kleenex), wallet — money and student identification, small sketchbook, pencil bag — pen, pencils, eraser, blender and sharpener, camera, and smartphone

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

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N/A

Main Partner

G A T O M O N

^Female

Nyaromon → Salamon → Gatomon → Angewomon

P E R S O N A L I T Y

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She has a very healthy curiosity, so she loves pranks. Although its body is small, she is a precious Holy-species Digimon, and her appearance does not match the true strength she possesses. She wears a Holy Ring on her tail, proof that she is a Holy-species, but if this Holy Ring is lost, her power is decreased and she can no longer exhibit its original power. In order to defend herself, she wears long claws copied from Saber Leomon's data. Her Special Moves are using her long claws and attacking the opponent (Neko Punch), and manipulating the enemy with a piercing glare (Cat's Eye). Those who suffer this glare will attack themselves

E Q U I P M E N T

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Holy Ring

A T T A C K S

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N E K O P U N C H Punches the enemy with its claws.
N E K O S C R A T C H Scratches repeatedly with the claws of both hands.
C A T ' S E Y E Hypnotizes the enemy with mysterious power from its eyes.

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

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N/A

’Feral’ Digimon

P A T A M O N

^Male

Poyomon → Tokomon → Patamon → Angemon

P E R S O N A L I T Y

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A Mammal Digimon characterized by his large ears. He is able to fly through the air by using them as large wings, but because he only goes at a speed of 1 km/h, it is said that he is definitely faster walking. Due to his extremely obedient personality, he defends well. Also, even though Patamon doesn't wear a Holy Ring, he is able to exhibit his hidden holy power, and he appears to have inherited the genes of ancient Digimon.

E Q U I P M E N T

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N/A

A T T A C K S

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A E R O S L A S H Breathes in air and shoots it out as blades made out of wind.
T A I A T A R I B O M B An attack where Patamon flies forward while spinning.
G L I D E Glides through the air.

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

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N/A

[Mole]

K A N N A H I G A S H I

The sun’s warmth kissed Kanna's skin as she drew in quiet breaths. The fingers on her right hand made small movements with her breathing. This went on for several seconds, until her fingers were limp and lifeless, again. “Dad…” her lips spoke feebly through her sleep. And, suddenly, without much morning, the girl opened her dark eyes.

She squinted at first, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Instead of the plain, tidy walls of her bedroom, there was some sort of sandy jungle in front of her. Instead of lying comfortably on her bed, she was on the hard ground. Slowly, Kanna lifted herself. Her line formed an emotionless line as she looked around. Am I still dreaming?

The small sound of someones or somethings was talking. The voices sounded intelligible but different. She could not put her finger on it. Slowly, she turned to look in the direction of the voices. As she did this, she noticed several other people littered around her. What happened? Her face remained apathetic, and then she saw the creatures. She had never seen anything like them before. I have to be dreaming. There was no other explanation.

The creatures were hobbling away while squabbling about something or another. She thought about calling after them, but she was afraid to wake any of the sleeping people. Why am I afraid of waking them? She asked herself. A small sleepy breath escaped her, and she brushed a strand of brown hair behind her ear. Her concentration returned to the creatures.

She wanted to be more curious, but her head felt heavy and delirious. There was too much happening. She looked at the palms of her hands, opening and closing them. She was still dressed in her street clothes, and her memory was escaping her. She had no recollection of what she had been doing before all of this, except for the dream she had just been having, and she did not particularly want to think about that right now.

Another small breath left her. It was melancholy. Her hands planted themselves on the sandy ground next to her and pushed her body upwards. As she stood up, she looked down at her boots, studying the skirmishes they had acquired throughout the year of owning them. They seemed just as scuffed as always, no more and no less. She frowned and then scanned the area.

There’s no way I am not dreaming. Kanna straightened her jacket and tugged on the strap of her messenger bag. She looked at the sky. It seemed different than the sky she usually saw — the shape of the clouds and the angle of the sun. She took several steps and examined her foot prints. There was nothing unusual about her tracks.

Without much thought, she examined the contents in her bag. Everything seemed in order, too in order. The dream was bizarrely adequate at duplicating her waking life, aside from the place she was. Something seemed wrong, and she could not put a note on what it was. Her hands grabbed hold of her messenger bag’s strap as she looked around more indefinitely.

Then, she realized what the problem was.

Normally, in a dream, she had some objective, and the dream pushed her forward no matter which decision she made. However, there was no hazy compunction moving the situation right along. She was merely existing in a space, with so many options. No one thought directed her anywhere. She was stagnant. She simply was.

And, then, there were the others.

Where am I?

[Mole]

s a t u r d a y

j a n u a r y 2 6 t h , 2 0 5 0

シアトルタイムズ

J a n u a r y , 2 6 t h 2 0 5 0

Welcome to another bleak Saturday morning. It’s below 40°F. There is a light mist. A gray fog hugs the concrete of the city. Matching gray clouds reflect the colorful electricity illuminating the buildings. Where are Nektarios Fionn and Adam Crell? Everyone is looking for them, and they’re wanted dead or alive. Here are some possible places you may find them.

Joystix

Cyberia

The Crooked Hook

The White Rabbit

[Mole]

Neomi Adams

When the window crashed, Neomi let out a small cry. Her spare hand shielded her face. Breaths shook from her mouth. There were thoughts trying to tell her what to do, but none of them had words. It was a jumbled mess that made her heart race and gave her a sensation in the center of her chest.

As she gained her strength and balance, she glanced briefly at the sword. Its added weight in her hand caused her to stumble. She took hold of the hilt with the other hand, as well just as the snake-ish Rue slithered closer. For a brief moment she stepped back fearfully.

[Mole]

名

Name

<sup>_ _ _ ____________________________________ _ _ _
"Quote."


age m/f height weight</sup>

♪

人格 Personality ____________________________________ text	人身元 Background ____________________________________ text

text

[Mole]

不老泉

^{‟The Fountain of Youth”}

[Mole]

Neomi Adams

WHAT IS THE CHARACTER'S NAME?

Neomi Adams

WHAT IS A STRANGER'S FIRST IMPRESSION UPON MEETING THEM?

At first glance, Neomi appears to be a creative deadpan girl. She has no problem being blunt and straight to the point. Although she seems to have learned when to keep her mouth shut, she seems to step on toes and hurt feelings with her attitude. It's safe to say, she is probably not everyone's cup of tea. And, she seems fairly comfortable with this, because, hey, ya can't please them all.

WHAT IS THEIR PROFESSION AND HOW DO THEY FEEL ABOUT IT?

Neomi works at The Burrow, a warm and friendly lodge. It's owned and run by her parents. Typically, she is found behind the front desk helping customers. When she's not helping the family business, she is doing what she wishes she could always be doing: working on her artwork.

HOW HAS BEING A HOWL AFFECTED THEIR LIFE?

Having been risen by Howls, Neomi has been cradled into the position. Her mother has can sense them through a tingling sensation, and her father has caught glimpses of them. Neomi has inherited her father's sense of seeing them. Neither of her parents is particularly interested in investing much time into being a Howl. Both simply moved to Oaken, met, fell in love, and got married. They prefer a simple life, much like the tidy and cozy furnishings of The Burrow, and they would prefer if Neomi kept the same lifestyle. However, Neomi cannot help but continue recreating drawings of what she one time saw -- a Rue.

WHY ARE THEY IN OAKEN CITY?

Neomi lives with her family in Oaken City, where they run a small lodge.

DO THEY HAVE A HOWL ABILITY? WHAT IS IT?

If you could call it that. She can manipulate the air slightly, like making a light wind between her hands. The most she's ever used it for is entertainment when bored. One time she made the light wind go into a twirl.

[Mole]

_{casual roleplay | one x one
Afterlife & Odyssey}

C A P T A I N C O N S T A N T I N E
_{^{F L I G H T T O E S C H A T O N}}

_{C R E W ◄}

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Captain
Navigation Officers
Chief Mate
Second Mate
Third Mate
Deckhand
Engineering Officers
Chief Engineer
Second Engineer
Third Engineer
Fourth Engineer
Electro Technical Engineer
Ship’s Cook

_{P A S S E N G E R S ◄}

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33 passengers

_{J O U R N E Y ◄}

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The ship is about to set sail. It's headed into the sky, towards the distant sun looming on the horizon. It's hard to say where it's going, but everyone with a ticket, punched at their time of death, wants to make it there.

[Mole]

𝒮𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓂𝒶 𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓎𝓃𝓃𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝓈𝑒
· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

She was dressed in something classy but different. It was obviously too eccentric for Witch’s Vogue, but it lacked the oddities than many independently styled witch robes had. To keep with her patriotic loyalty to her House, the gown was a dark blue color. It accentuated her figure without disturbing too much of the imagination.

“Delightful and dallying,” her mother might have said.

Whatever adjective to use, Seraphima felt upbeat about the ordeal, especially when she ate one of the bourbon chocolate biscuits. She puckered her lips together, “These are delicious,” she said aloud to no one in particular. She would not mind to have another one, and just as she was about to take a bit she spotted Tænar.

Seraphima admired the woman’s outfit as her eyes drifted to her dog. She thought of what a cute and adorable creature the puppy was, and then, just as she was taking another bite of her second bourbon chocolate biscuit, her eyes landed on Reggie. She had seen him outside this morning, but he most definitely did not show during lunch.

He was a jockey, competitive looking guy, and she could not help but smile — mostly for the taste of the air she once knew when she was flying her broom during Quidditch. “Can’t say I don’t fancy a man who knows his Quidditch,” Seraphima teased Reggie. “Swell of you to not join us for lunch, come sit with us. She nodded towards the table that Tænar was sitting. She was not technically by herself, but by all means, this was a party.

Now, it is quite certain that Seraphima was not much of a people person herself, but in her age, she had reasoned that she might as well go out on a limb for this occasion, at least for her first go-around, especially if the tree were for Hogwarts. “I believe we’re still on the subject of who the new headmaster could possibly be.”

She sat down next to Tænar and tapped the table in front of the seat she thought best suited Reggie’s occupation. “As a Ravenclaw, I feel slightly embarrassed to not have a single theory on who the new headmaster could be. One would think, once you get older and start to know people you’d have a better grasp on things of this sort.”

There was a chance she came off a tad snobby with the last comment, but really, it was meant in good taste — whether she cared or not was probably out of the question. Her faux pas were notorious for leaving people flat and causing more mischief leading to awkward social etiquette.

“My name is Seraphima, by the way, I had not caught any of your names at lunch or… well, since you didn’t show up,” she smirked at Reggie.