A Lowly Wretch

No Hope, No Glory, No Problem - A No More Heroes RP

Omnivore

Meanwhile in a dilapidated office inside an abandoned warehouse on the docks...

No longer shrouded by a tarp Anny stood hunched over the dead body of a middle aged man with premature balding and an expensive looking suit. She was in her usual getup, a white metallica t-shirt and faded khaki cargo pants with her hair wild and about like a sort of proud silver mane. She found it hard to style her hair without sacrificing practicality since the hair needed to be free to splay out for extra shock-itude.

With one hand she reached down, digging her claws into the dead man's stomach like she was reaching for some potato chips and pulling out a small minced heap of human tripe. With her other hand she was busy looking at her claws, casually examining them for spots and scratch marks that needed buffing. She wanted her blades to look nice and shiney for her next kill. While she was sort of waiting on her agent to call she couldn't say she'd of been crestfallen if he failed to. She had been setting up her next hit for a couple weeks now, hunting down those who were involved with |Project Neuropath| so she can figure out when they're going to be shipping out the prototypes.

_
She took a hearty bite out of her handful of human flesh, her teeth cutting the meat into swallowable chunks. The answering machine blinked a little red light, sitting right next to an old cherry red rotary phone upon the office desk. Taking her clean claws she reached over and gently pressed a dial with the pointed tip of her index claw.

<"Hai-hai! You've reached Anny's handy answering machine! She can't reach the phone right now so please leave a message after the beep! Beep~!"> The cheery prerecorded message finally beeped for real, the message left following after.

A fake ghost, a Victorian brawler, and a drug addict. A less united force I could not conceive of myself. Heh.

You’ve been wired the money necessary for your next fight, so you’re aware. After this, you’ll have to pay your own way into each battle.

Savile Fist, you’re rank 199. The lowest in the experiment, for reference. Speaking of experiments, look for The Scientist in the cryo lab of Destroy University. You may encounter Chroma at the university too; if you do, ignore him.

Omnivore, you’re at rank 130. You’ll find Rainbow Stakes in the Bow and Arrow Theatre.

Whiteout, you’re rank 146. Maxi Million is in one of the skyscrapers in the Destroy Central Plaza; you’ll get more info on which one precisely when you get there.

Trust your Force, and head for the Garden of Madness.

Anny dabbed down her bloodied claws with a moist towelette clutched in her tongue's metal claw grip, the closest thing she had to saliva. It was good that her exterior metals were all stainless composites, it made washing up that few steps less laborious and removed the threat of growing rusty, something she had no intention of becoming in both the literal and metaphorical sense.

She huffed as the message ran to finish. "Fake ghost? Hah. I'm the closest thing to a ghost any o' these normies are ever gonna see. I'll bet Rainbow Stakes will wish she saw a ghost soon... As if she'd even see me coming."

Leaving what remained of the man she was devouring on the floor Anny stood up from her hunched position into a still hunched but less so position and went over to the window. The sun had yet to set so she'd go do some homework on her opponent first largely to kill time. Daintily lifting the window she stepped out, gripping the wall below the window sill with her talons. The yellowing day lit sky cast it's glow over the bay and the docks before it. Reaching up she pulled herself onto the roof of the warehouse, shutting the window with her feet before gripping the edge of the roof and kicking off into a leap. Diving down she landed nimbly upon the shipping container below, only mildly scratching it with her talons. She set off, leaping from container to container until she reached the streets where she took to the tops of buildings instead. It was off to the public library, after closing time of course.

World Warriors: The Nomadic Fist [A Quirky Fighting Game Inspired Roleplay Reboot]

@KaiserElectric - Thank you for your approval. If the others approve I'll see about repairing the various [ hr]'s that popped up there before I submit him to the CS tab.

@redbaron1234 - That's okay. Hopefully Al will be acceptable though I'm quite fine with tweaking the strength of his powers to better suit the preferred range you three have in mind. Anywho do take the time you want, I don't want to make life any harder just for my sake.

World Warriors: The Nomadic Fist [A Quirky Fighting Game Inspired Roleplay Reboot]

I've brought Al back again for review. I don't think there's much else I'd change outside of recommendations from the GM's so for now consider this his complete sheet. He won't be the only one as he does have some opposition that will likely appear, should he be accepted.

Al Denton

Al Denton

[ hr][ hr]

⦋ 20 || American || Male ⦌

APPEARANCE & PERSONALITY

[ hr]

APPEARANCE

Standing at around 6'2" and weighing one hundred and eighty two pounds his guy is sort of a tall lanky fellow with lean but dense muscle. He stands with a forward slouch and generally dresses down, his aim more for comfort than style. As a matter of fact he tries not to stand out by generally wearing plainer colors such as black, grey and white. Overall people who know him would describe him as a rather miserable looking guy. He rarely smiles and he keeps his eyes mostly down to the floor more often than not. His most identifying feature is his set of black fingerless gloves with blue straps.

PERSONALITY TRAITS

- Depressed.
- Pessimistic.
- Enduring.
- Serious.
- Shy.
- Caring.
- Principled.
- Always Thinking.

BACKSTORY & MOTIVATION

History

From the beginning Allan's life was a hard one. He was raised an only son with only a mother to take care of him. From an early age his mother had to dedicate more time to the flower shop she ran in order to keep the family afloat. He only really ever saw his mother early in the morning before he went to school and even then she was much too busy to properly take care of him. He did everything himself since he was forced to take care of himself since his mother was simply too busy to help.

Life at school was no easier. Being as shy as he was he never really made any friends and many of the other students took great delight out of tormenting him as well as anyone else who was unlucky enough to not fit in. He learned very little in the classrooms but out in the playground he learned to be hard, to be tough and to survive. Needless to say the days of his life when he was supposed to be enjoying life and having fun were spent in misery, fear and social isolation. Still, despite all the terrible things the people around did to him he vowed never to become like his tormentors.

Many years of this life he spent like this, resolute on trying not to become the scum of the earth which he had to endure the company of in the hallways and streets. It was at this point he started to realize he had strange powers he wasn't aware of. He went to the places he usually went when he wanted to be alone, places no one else typically went to such as abandoned junk piles, abandoned buildings and the sort. Outside the prying eyes of his peers he practiced, examining these strange new abilities he could now wield. In these places he practiced, testing the boundaries of his strength and improving them. Even with these new gifts he still continued on with life, keeping the power he wielded as a secret only he knew.

As he came of age he figured he needed to pick up a career in order to feed himself and afford rent. He managed to score a job as a security guard at a mall. It was by no means a highly prestigious position but they were willing to hire him and it beat working as a fry cook. What was nice was that since he picked up the night shifts he was often times the only guard on shift. He'd find areas away from the cameras and work out, testing his powers in secrecy while at work. It was also nice because during the day he had time to train in hand-to-hand fighting, an additional means of better controlling his strength. Of course he was definitely careful to make sure not to use any of his powers while training lest he end up revealing his secret.

One late night while Al was busy doing curls with a vending machine he heard a strange noise coming from down the hall. He set the large soda dispenser back against the wall and started walking towards the source of the noise. He approached a strange curio shop full of all sorts of unusual miscellanea, trinkets and the sort. Inside he could see three figures approaching the entrance. One set of footsteps was heavy and hard while another was accompanied with the rattling of a chain. The third was normal.

When the intruders stepped out he was in for a surprise. The first guy looked like the usual street punk with long ratty hair, dragging along a long heavy looking chain. The second guy looked like some sort of high end CEO type of fellow, complete with pitch black slicked back hair and a suit that looked like it cost more than Al's yearly pay multiplied by ten but more worryingly were his eyes which were blazing with fire. The third guy was the most surprising, a huge man covered from head to toe in a suit of chitinous stark black insectoid armor, a pair of glowing red eyes peering out from the open slot in what seemed to be partly a helmet and partly a growth fused to his black skin.

"What the..." Al was rightly at a loss for words upon stumbling upon this band of intruders. The serious man in a suit simply raised his hand, pointing straight at him.

"Take him out." The man with the burning eyes commanded. Al's body barely had time to even tense as the hulking man in chitinous armor lunged forward immediately upon hearing the order. With a fist easily as large as Al's own head he smashed him with a straight punch to the chest, sending him flying back with the sheer force he hit him with. Sailing through the air Al's body hit the mesh gate in front of the grocery store, tore a hole straight through it and continued through until he crashed into the side of a line of shelves.

"Huh. They usually break." The armored man remarked as he looked to where Al had landed. He was slumped in the crater his back left on the shelf, food items scattered about the floor. His whole chest throbbed with pain and his breathing was labored. Still, despite the tremendous force of the blow his rib cage remained intact. There was still fight in him yet as he struggled back to his feet, attempting to gather his bearings.

"Haha! Looks like this night just got interesting!" The one who held the chain jubilated, the thrill of the fight sending a chill of excitement as he surged forward, his chain slithering behind him. Swinging the chain forward the linked line of metal suddenly became a whole lot more animated, whipping out towards Al who was still staggering from the previous blow. The long chain cut through the metal mesh in front of the store like it was tissue paper, lashing out and wrapping around Al's torso. Al attempted to grab the chain but before he could attempt to seize it the seemingly living metal launched up, driving his head into the ceiling before it slammed him down into the floor. The whole ground shook at the impact, leaving an Al shaped hole in the floor.

This was bad. He was just being slung around like a toy doll by this greasy street punk, cackling as he manipulated the chain to his every whim. The chain's hold on him was powerful like the grip of a titan, even for one as strong as he. There was little way he was going to loosen it's grip on him, not that it was giving him any real opportunity to as it ran his head down the shelves along an entire aisle. Thinking fast as he was real tired of being smashed into things he caught a loose glass jar of salsa. As the man wielding the chain reeled him in for a real beat-down Al pitched the jar as hard as he could at the guy's head.

Crash! The jar connected, shattering from the force of the impact. With a short note of surprise and pain the punk's head whipped back. The chain lost all strength as the body slumped to the floor, knocked cold. Before Al could rise to his feet however the armored man rushed over, arms raised to deliver a haymaker.

Al rolled out of the path of the blow just in the nick of time, sending chips of flooring and concrete up at him like shrapnel. Even as thrashed as he was the sharp debris failed to pierce his rock hard skin. Without a moment's pause he scrambled to his feet and started running away, the insectoid ogre of a man giving chase. Though Al was light and strong the larger man held a lot of momentum and was gaining on him. Seconds from being caught he made a sudden right, turning down and aisle and taking off. The armored attacker had more difficulty turning on a dime like Al did, the distance between them growing.

Despite this gap he grew with so much aisle to travel down Al realized he wasn't going to make it to the end before his pursuer could get to him. In a snap decision of desperation he skidded to a halt before leaping at the heavy pugilist, both legs out in a double kick at the guy. While the kick connected the force only served to briefly halt the man while Al simply fell to the floor, on his back once more. To keep the chitinous bruiser from descending upon him he attempted to kick the foe back but he simply swept Al's legs aside and started raining blows upon him.

Al had his arms tucked in a tight guard but each hit landed with enough force to drive him through the ground, a little deeper with each punch. That was not to mention the fact that he felt like he was getting hit by a speeding car with each punch he took. He knew that simply defending only meant that he was going to get killed, plain and simple. With that in mind he seized the brief moment after a strike where the man wasn't hitting him and lowered his guard, reaching down and grabbing hold of the man's black chitinous ankles. With a swift yank Al pulled himself in between the man's legs, his head slipping right below a blow meant for his face. Now behind the guy he swiveled on his back, facing his feet at the assaulter's back plates. Pushing off from his back he kicked the man's rear end, sending him tipping over onto his face.

It was a window to act. He was succeeding much better than he initially felt, what with one attacker down and the other now open for retaliation. He could of run then but he decided to try his hand and fight back. Quickly pushing himself up onto his feet he was about to seize the opportunity to strike back when something caught his eye. Right in his arms reach on the shelves next to him were jars of peanut butter. Now this would not be an interesting fact under any regular circumstances but in this case it was pertinent since his foe was armored. The likes of this guy's chitinous shell might rebuff his fists however peanut butter would definitely find it's way through the cracks in his protection.

Just as the armored man was rising to his knees in the process of standing up he looked up only to see plastic case of peanut butter rapidly approaching his face. Before he could intercept the object with his hands Al drove it right into his face. The package was ripped apart upon the harsh edges of the foe's face plates, the gooey light brown paste splattering through the brow guards into his eyes. Al leaned back, dodging a fast swat at him as the blinded fighter roared in inarticulate offense. This was it, the time to lay down some revenge pummeling.

Only for everything to suddenly light up. A beam of concentrated fire, about as large as Al's own body, burnt a hole through each and almost every object in it's path. Were he some ordinary human he'd be little more than charred dust at this moment. Thanks to his phenomenal defense however the stream of fire only served to completely immolate him, the heat blistering his skin.

This whole time the man with the burning eyes had been following his every move, watching him even through the many shelves and other obstacles. This was why they needed him, because once he sees someone he can always see where they are. The ability to incinerate all that he sees with fire was simply a pleasant side benefit.

At this point the man in armor was not important. The man with the chain nor even the man in the suit were important. The only thing that was important was the fire. He needed to put it out, nothing else at that moment mattered to him. Quite nearly flailing in agony Al ran for the nearest freezer and jumped into it, not even bothering to open the door as he simply crashed through the glass pane. Once inside he grabbed several buckets of ice cream and pressed them flat against himself, dousing the flames in ice cold cream. Once the worst of the fires were quelled he looked out to assess the situation.

The guy with the chain was starting to come out from his brief bout of unconsciousness and the armored man was still busy trying and failing to clear the peanut butter from his eyes since the chitinous plates around his fingers were too large to fit in his eye slot. The man in the suit however was still looking straight at him, the flames in his eyes growing with intensity. This wasn't a fight he was going to win. Even if he tried to stop the man in the suit from immolating him all over again the man with the chain was going to be rejoining the fight shortly and the armored man not long after him. Seeing no clear victory to be had he decided to take this momentary recess to escape.

Leaping from the freezer Al ran for the exit. Like a rabbit in pursuit his heart was beating rapidly as the adrenaline carried him forward, keeping him moving and holding back every sense that was pushing at the gates of his awareness to tell him he should stop moving and collapse. He bolted through the exit, tripping the silent alarm to the building as a result. This did not keep him however as he kept running, not pausing until his legs were on the verge of giving out beneath him. After the panic that gripped him had faded fatigue filled the void it had left, leaving Al with little other choice than to collapse into the nearest dumpster, resting upon bags of garbage until he was able to fight through the pain he was in and find the strength to dial a cab.

As the man with the chain's vision stopped spinning he held his head which throbbed with pain, looking about for the guard that dealt him the blow only to catch a fleeting glimpse of the man running through the exit. Before he could chase however the man in the suit extended an arm, holding him back.

"Hey, we just letting him go alive-like just like that?" The punk complained, the chain in his hands itching to coil around Al's throat and crush the life out of him.

"No. More formidable foes are on route to here. We have the stone, we need to leave. Now."

The two wanted to finish what they started with the lone security guard however neither one were going to disobey the words of their leader. Waiting only long enough for the man in armor to rinse the peanut butter from his face plates they fled the scene before their opposition could close on the situation. Aside from failing to kill a witness their crime went mostly without error. This was not the last time Al was going to see them however.

He recovered quickly after the incident. By the time he was home he felt fine despite suffering injuries that would of left most people hospitalized for months. He discovered he could use his power for more than just taking hits and dealing them out. He could also heal damage suffered simply by concentrating on recovering, hence his state upon returning home.

Despite keeping his powers hidden all this time he knew that hiding was no longer an option. This was made especially clear when investigators interviewed him regarding footage of the encounter. Given how he was on shift when the damage occured he was guaranteed to be out of his job. Luckily the information regarding the more supernatural aspects were kept from the public. The police records were confiscated by government agents for review from higher agencies.

After all that Al figured if he couldn't live a normal life he might as well become a nomad. At least then he might have the free time to try and find the guys who attacked him and figure out what that was all about.

FIGHTING STYLE & ABILITIES

[ hr]

FIGHTING STYLE

It's quite evident that Al's not highly trained. While he's not bad off in Thai Boxing he's no master, not even a black belt. As such his style is largely characterized as simple. He throws jabs, hooks, straight kicks, roundhouse kicks, knee strikes and elbow strikes. His defense is fairly tight though, able to block or avoid most shots thrown at him using a healthy combination of arm & leg blocks with moving in and out of specific attack ranges. He likes to play it safe and stick outside of his opponent's range until his foe closes the distance at which point he moves in close, keeping up his defense while throwing out powerful short ranged strikes. If his opponent chooses to keep poking at him from afar he'll try and close the distance, tanking whatever blows come his way as he attempts to cross the attack threshold. Despite his lack of techniques he's quite adaptable, able to use his opponent's weaknesses and the environment to his advantage when possible.

_
Al is a nephilim, born of a human mother and an angel. As a result his ki is quite substantial, complete with benefits straight from his divine half. The most substantial feature of his is the nature of his ki. His ki's affinity is Internal so while inside him it's substantially more abundant and powerful whereas it quickly dwindles when used for external purposes. He possesses an internal reservoire which replenishes at an extraordinary rate, allowing him to recharge his ki from nearly empty to fully charged in the span of five minutes. This ki rejuvenation is constant, replenishing like a never ending stream born from within.

This ki is born of the divine so it is limited to holy effects. Given it's affinity he's mostly locked to effects which only effect him, the closer the better. The various applications are as follows:

Divine Might |Toggleable|
Al is able to boost his strength to superhuman levels, allowing him to bring a speeding bus to a dead stop with the right footing. This power is spread through his entire body, making him stronger all throughout himself. This power is only at it's strongest unarmed however. Using a weapon reduces the force of it's impact as a result of his strength by half, decreasing from there in proportion to the length of the weapon. The maximum force to length ratio begins at a small knife and simply shrinks further for longer weapons. Almost nothing Al wields impacts harder than his fists, feet, knees, elbows, head or just him in general. Thrown objects will still maintain the full force born from the use of his strength however since throwing something does not count as making it an extention to himself, thus the ki never leaves his body which allows it to maintain full potency.

This power drains a steady amount of ki while active, only slightly less than the amount he passively rejuvenates. He can choose to relinquish his strength and regain it at will nigh instantaneously. In addition when this power is used against demonic subjects or things with demonic energy present in or upon them the effects of this power are doubled. Furthermore this power infuses his attacks with a spiritual ki which can effect intangible foes such as ghosts and other phantasmal entities so long as they possess a soul. The ki infusing his strength interacts with the soul as physical matter would with the flesh.

Divine Protection |Reactive|
Upon taking damage Al's ki will harden around the area harmed, turning his flesh and bone into reactive armor. His flesh becomes as hard as steel while still maintaining it's organic flexibility and his bone becomes as solid as high carbon substances such as diamonds or cubic zirconias. Unlike Divine Might Al can conduct a lesser portion of this power to others through touch. Al must remain in physical contact with the subject in order to continue channeling his ki through them and as such the protection will end immediately upon loss of contact. In addition the protection is only half as effective for the recipient than it is for him.

This power requires no manual activation, only spending ki upon shielding against damage. The amount of ki spent upon activation is proportionate to the amount of damage received, up to the limit of damage it's hardness can endure. In addition when this power opposes anything demonic or containing demonic energy it will only spend half as much ki to shield against the damage as it would for a regular attack. Furthermore this power will defend against spirits and other phantasmal foes in possession of a soul as if they were solid.

Divine Healing |Channeled|
Al's most notable ability, the power to heal wounds and purify ailments at a relatively rapid rate. At will he can focus his ki, spurring it to begin restoring his body to it's predetermined state as according to the blueprint of his soul. The rate at which it heals is as follows:

Small wounds & bruises - between five to ten seconds for full recovery.
Large wounds, small burns and minor fractures - between ten to thirty seconds before it ascends to a lesser wound category.
Major wounds, second to third degree burns and large fractures - between thirty seconds to one minute before it ascends to a lesser wound category.
Deadly wounds, limb loss and bone breaks - between one to three minutes before it ascends to a lesser wound category.
Nigh fatal wounds, multiple limb losses, major bone and/or torso destruction - between three to five minutes before it ascends to a lesser wound category.
Wounds greater than this cannot be healed from as they result in near immediate brain death.

If limbs are removed but later placed back on the healing to restore said limb is one category higher. Types of injuries not listed above are to be given an approximate estimate of severity which will decide where among these categories it falls under. The same can be said of diseases, poisons, and even magical ailments. Anything that is at all connected to Al's body directly can eventually be undone with relative haste. The same can be said for afflictions of the mind. If something alters his memories however the process of restoring his mind might leave him with selective amnesia as it will purge the altered memories along with whatever else is influencing him.

This power drains a steady amount of ki while active at a rate which is just slightly more than the amount he passively rejuvenates. Al can conduct this power to others through maintained direct physical contact. The healing takes twice as long for others and costs double the amount of ki. In addition this power holds no benefit for subjects with demonic energy present within them as the ki will damage them for as much as it heals them.

Divine Flight |Passive|
Al possesses the ability to fly at will. He is currently unaware of this ability however. At first he will begin to understand that he can make himself lighter at will, allowing him to jump greater and greater distances until he eventually is able to cease falling altogether. With training he will learn how to direct his motion in midair until he attains a finer degree of control over his aerial movements.

This power is technically always active but can be consciously suppressed if needed. The power costs slightly less ki than roughly a quarter of the rate at which he rejuvenates it.

SPECIAL MOVES & TECHNIQUES
He has none currently available to him.

SUPER MOVES
He has none currently available to him.

WEAKNESSES & LIMITS

Al's biggest weakness is his relative lack of training. He's competent in Thai Boxing but that's about it. While his innate angelic powers more than make up for his lack of experience in combat their nature is bent more towards healing and defense, leaving him quite lacking in diversity when it comes time to attack. All he has to throw at his opponents are unarmed strikes and whatever his creativity can come up with at the moment.

Due to his ki's innate nature being limited strictly to his body his ability to fight at a range is nearly non-existant. He makes up for it largely by closing the distance between him and his opponent however he can. While he might have versatile mobility if he's unable to reach his opponent he'll be at a significant disadvantage.

As for his defense he's vulnerable to being pressured for extended periods without rest. Given even a brief reprieve he can recuperate a great deal but when forced to use multiple powers all at once or simply hit with an onslaught of attacks for his defense to soak he'll start to run out of ki. When he runs completely out ki not only do all his powers deactivate but he also passes out for about a minute since his stamina is directly tied to his ki. This leaves him completely vulnerable for that amount of time.

Lastly there are instances where he'll be reluctant to fight back. He'd much rather avoid hurting women and children even if by not doing so he puts himself and others in danger.

OTHER

[ hr]

Al drinks hot sauce. Claims the pain keeps him grounded.

World Warriors: The Nomadic Fist [A Quirky Fighting Game Inspired Roleplay Reboot]

Here's my character for your review. Hopefully he's acceptable enough.

Al Denton

Al Denton

[ hr][ hr]

⦋ 20 || American || Male ⦌

APPEARANCE & PERSONALITY

[ hr]

APPEARANCE

Standing at around 6'2" and weighing one hundred and eighty two pounds his guy is sort of a tall lanky fellow with lean but dense muscle. He stands with a forward slouch and generally dresses down, his aim more for comfort than style. As a matter of fact he tries not to stand out by generally wearing plainer colors such as black, grey and white. Overall people who know him would describe him as a rather miserable looking guy. He rarely smiles and he keeps his eyes mostly down to the floor more often than not. His most identifying feature is his set of black fingerless gloves with blue straps.

PERSONALITY TRAITS

- Depressed.
- Pessimistic.
- Enduring.
- Serious.
- Shy.
- Caring.
- Principled.
- Always Thinking.

BACKSTORY & MOTIVATION

History

From the beginning Allan's life was a hard one. He was raised an only son with only a mother to take care of him. From an early age his mother had to dedicate more time to the flower shop she ran in order to keep the family afloat. He only really ever saw his mother early in the morning before he went to school and even then she was much too busy to properly take care of him. He did everything himself since he was forced to take care of himself since his mother was simply too busy to help.

Life at school was no easier. Being as shy as he was he never really made any friends and many of the other students took great delight out of tormenting him as well as anyone else who was unlucky enough to not fit in. He learned very little in the classrooms but out in the playground he learned to be hard, to be tough and to survive. Needless to say the days of his life when he was supposed to be enjoying life and having fun were spent in misery, fear and social isolation. Still, despite all the terrible things the people around did to him he vowed never to become like his tormentors.

Many years of this life he spent like this, resolute on trying not to become the scum of the earth which he had to endure the company of in the hallways and streets. It was at this point he started to realize he had strange powers he wasn't aware of. He went to the places he usually went when he wanted to be alone, places no one else typically went to such as abandoned junk piles, abandoned buildings and the sort. Outside the prying eyes of his peers he practiced, examining these strange new abilities he could now wield. In these places he practiced, testing the boundaries of his strength and improving them. Even with these new gifts he still continued on with life, keeping the power he wielded as a secret only he knew.

As he came of age he figured he needed to pick up a career in order to feed himself and afford rent. He managed to score a job as a security guard at a mall. It was by no means a highly prestigious position but they were willing to hire him and it beat working as a fry cook. What was nice was that since he picked up the night shifts he was often times the only guard on shift. He'd find areas away from the cameras and work out, testing his powers in secrecy while at work. It was also nice because during the day he had time to train in hand-to-hand fighting, an additional means of better controlling his strength. Of course he was definitely careful to make sure not to use any of his powers while training lest he end up revealing his secret.

One late night while Al was busy doing curls with a vending machine he heard a strange noise coming from down the hall. He set the large soda dispenser back against the wall and started walking towards the source of the noise. He approached a strange curio shop full of all sorts of unusual miscellanea, trinkets and the sort. Inside he could see three figures approaching the entrance. One set of footsteps was heavy and hard while another was accompanied with the rattling of a chain. The third was normal.

When the intruders stepped out he was in for a surprise. The first guy looked like the usual street punk with long ratty hair, dragging along a long heavy looking chain. The second guy looked like some sort of high end CEO type of fellow, complete with pitch black slicked back hair and a suit that looked like it cost more than Al's yearly pay multiplied by ten but more worryingly were his eyes which were blazing with fire. The third guy was the most surprising, a huge man covered from head to toe in a suit of chitinous stark black insectoid armor, a pair of glowing red eyes peering out from the open slot in what seemed to be partly a helmet and partly a growth fused to his black skin.

"What the..." Al was rightly at a loss for words upon stumbling upon this band of intruders. The serious man in a suit simply raised his hand, pointing straight at him.

"Take him out." The man with the burning eyes commanded. Al's body barely had time to even tense as the hulking man in chitinous armor lunged forward immediately upon hearing the order. With a fist easily as large as Al's own head he smashed him with a straight punch to the chest, sending him flying back with the sheer force he hit him with. Sailing through the air Al's body hit the mesh gate in front of the grocery store, tore a hole straight through it and continued through until he crashed into the side of a line of shelves.

"Huh. They usually break." The armored man remarked as he looked to where Al had landed. He was slumped in the crater his back left on the shelf, food items scattered about the floor. His whole chest throbbed with pain and his breathing was labored. Still, despite the tremendous force of the blow his rib cage remained intact. There was still fight in him yet as he struggled back to his feet, attempting to gather his bearings.

"Haha! Looks like this night just got interesting!" The one who held the chain jubilated, the thrill of the fight sending a chill of excitement as he surged forward, his chain slithering behind him. Swinging the chain forward the linked line of metal suddenly became a whole lot more animated, whipping out towards Al who was still staggering from the previous blow. The long chain cut through the metal mesh in front of the store like it was tissue paper, lashing out and wrapping around Al's torso. Al attempted to grab the chain but before he could attempt to seize it the seemingly living metal launched up, driving his head into the ceiling before it slammed him down into the floor. The whole ground shook at the impact, leaving an Al shaped hole in the floor.

This was bad. He was just being slung around like a toy doll by this greasy street punk, cackling as he manipulated the chain to his every whim. The chain's hold on him was powerful like the grip of a titan, even for one as strong as he. There was little way he was going to loosen it's grip on him, not that it was giving him any real opportunity to as it ran his head down the shelves along an entire aisle. Thinking fast as he was real tired of being smashed into things he caught a loose glass jar of salsa. As the man wielding the chain reeled him in for a real beat-down Al pitched the jar as hard as he could at the guy's head.

Crash! The jar connected, shattering from the force of the impact. With a short note of surprise and pain the punk's head whipped back. The chain lost all strength as the body slumped to the floor, knocked cold. Before Al could rise to his feet however the armored man rushed over, arms raised to deliver a haymaker.

Al rolled out of the path of the blow just in the nick of time, sending chips of flooring and concrete up at him like shrapnel. Even as thrashed as he was the sharp debris failed to pierce his rock hard skin. Without a moment's pause he scrambled to his feet and started running away, the insectoid ogre of a man giving chase. Though Al was light and strong the larger man held a lot of momentum and was gaining on him. Seconds from being caught he made a sudden right, turning down and aisle and taking off. The armored attacker had more difficulty turning on a dime like Al did, the distance between them growing.

Despite this gap he grew with so much aisle to travel down Al realized he wasn't going to make it to the end before his pursuer could get to him. In a snap decision of desperation he skidded to a halt before leaping at the heavy pugilist, both legs out in a double kick at the guy. While the kick connected the force only served to briefly halt the man while Al simply fell to the floor, on his back once more. To keep the chitinous bruiser from descending upon him he attempted to kick the foe back but he simply swept Al's legs aside and started raining blows upon him.

Al had his arms tucked in a tight guard but each hit landed with enough force to drive him through the ground, a little deeper with each punch. That was not to mention the fact that he felt like he was getting hit by a speeding car with each punch he took. He knew that simply defending only meant that he was going to get killed, plain and simple. With that in mind he seized the brief moment after a strike where the man wasn't hitting him and lowered his guard, reaching down and grabbing hold of the man's black chitinous ankles. With a swift yank Al pulled himself in between the man's legs, his head slipping right below a blow meant for his face. Now behind the guy he swiveled on his back, facing his feet at the assaulter's back plates. Pushing off from his back he kicked the man's rear end, sending him tipping over onto his face.

It was a window to act. He was succeeding much better than he initially felt, what with one attacker down and the other now open for retaliation. He could of run then but he decided to try his hand and fight back. Quickly pushing himself up onto his feet he was about to seize the opportunity to strike back when something caught his eye. Right in his arms reach on the shelves next to him were jars of peanut butter. Now this would not be an interesting fact under any regular circumstances but in this case it was pertinent since his foe was armored. The likes of this guy's chitinous shell might rebuff his fists however peanut butter would definitely find it's way through the cracks in his protection.

Just as the armored man was rising to his knees in the process of standing up he looked up only to see plastic case of peanut butter rapidly approaching his face. Before he could intercept the object with his hands Al drove it right into his face. The package was ripped apart upon the harsh edges of the foe's face plates, the gooey light brown paste splattering through the brow guards into his eyes. Al leaned back, dodging a fast swat at him as the blinded fighter roared in inarticulate offense. This was it, the time to lay down some revenge pummeling.

Only for everything to suddenly light up. A beam of concentrated fire, about as large as Al's own body, burnt a hole through each and almost every object in it's path. Were he some ordinary human he'd be little more than charred dust at this moment. Thanks to his phenomenal defense however the stream of fire only served to completely immolate him, the heat blistering his skin.

This whole time the man with the burning eyes had been following his every move, watching him even through the many shelves and other obstacles. This was why they needed him, because once he sees someone he can always see where they are. The ability to incinerate all that he sees with fire was simply a pleasant side benefit.

At this point the man in armor was not important. The man with the chain nor even the man in the suit were important. The only thing that was important was the fire. He needed to put it out, nothing else at that moment mattered to him. Quite nearly flailing in agony Al ran for the nearest freezer and jumped into it, not even bothering to open the door as he simply crashed through the glass pane. Once inside he grabbed several buckets of ice cream and pressed them flat against himself, dousing the flames in ice cold cream. Once the worst of the fires were quelled he looked out to assess the situation.

The guy with the chain was starting to come out from his brief bout of unconsciousness and the armored man was still busy trying and failing to clear the peanut butter from his eyes since the chitinous plates around his fingers were too large to fit in his eye slot. The man in the suit however was still looking straight at him, the flames in his eyes growing with intensity. This wasn't a fight he was going to win. Even if he tried to stop the man in the suit from immolating him all over again the man with the chain was going to be rejoining the fight shortly and the armored man not long after him. Seeing no clear victory to be had he decided to take this momentary recess to escape.

Leaping from the freezer Al ran for the exit. Like a rabbit in pursuit his heart was beating rapidly as the adrenaline carried him forward, keeping him moving and holding back every sense that was pushing at the gates of his awareness to tell him he should stop moving and collapse. He bolted through the exit, tripping the silent alarm to the building as a result. This did not keep him however as he kept running, not pausing until his legs were on the verge of giving out beneath him. After the panic that gripped him had faded fatigue filled the void it had left, leaving Al with little other choice than to collapse into the nearest dumpster, resting upon bags of garbage until he was able to fight through the pain he was in and find the strength to dial a cab.

As the man with the chain's vision stopped spinning he held his head which throbbed with pain, looking about for the guard that dealt him the blow only to catch a fleeting glimpse of the man running through the exit. Before he could chase however the man in the suit extended an arm, holding him back.

"Hey, we just letting him go alive-like just like that?" The punk complained, the chain in his hands itching to coil around Al's throat and crush the life out of him.

"No. More formidable foes are on route to here. We have the stone, we need to leave. Now."

The two wanted to finish what they started with the lone security guard however neither one were going to disobey the words of their leader. Waiting only long enough for the man in armor to rinse the peanut butter from his face plates they fled the scene before their opposition could close on the situation. Aside from failing to kill a witness their crime went mostly without error. This was not the last time Al was going to see them however.

He recovered quickly after the incident. By the time he was home he felt fine despite suffering injuries that would of left most people hospitalized for months. He discovered he could use his power for more than just taking hits and dealing them out. He could also heal damage suffered simply by concentrating on recovering, hence his state upon returning home.

Despite keeping his powers hidden all this time he knew that hiding was no longer an option. This was made especially clear when investigators interviewed him regarding footage of the encounter. Given how he was on shift when the damage occured he was guaranteed to be out of his job. Luckily the information regarding the more supernatural aspects were kept from the public. The police records were confiscated by government agents for review from higher agencies.

After all that Al figured if he couldn't live a normal life he might as well become a nomad. At least then he might have the free time to try and find the guys who attacked him and figure out what that was all about.

FIGHTING STYLE & ABILITIES

[ hr]

FIGHTING STYLE

It's quite evident that Al's not highly trained. While he's not bad off in Thai Boxing he's no master, not even a black belt. As such his style is largely characterized as simple. He throws jabs, hooks, straight kicks, roundhouse kicks, knee strikes and elbow strikes. His defense is fairly tight though, able to block or avoid most shots thrown at him using a healthy combination of arm & leg blocks with moving in and out of specific attack ranges. He likes to play it safe and stick outside of his opponent's range until his foe closes the distance at which point he moves in close, keeping up his defense while throwing out powerful short ranged strikes. If his opponent chooses to keep poking at him from afar he'll try and close the distance, tanking whatever blows come his way as he attempts to cross the attack threshold. Despite his lack of techniques he's quite adaptable, able to use his opponent's weaknesses and the environment to his advantage when possible.

_
Al is a nephilim, born of a human mother and an angel. As a result his ki is quite substantial, complete with benefits straight from his divine half. The most substantial feature of his is the nature of his ki. His ki's affinity is Internal so while inside him it's substantially more abundant and powerful whereas it quickly dwindles when used for external purposes. He possesses an internal reservoire which replenishes at an extraordinary rate, allowing him to recharge his ki from nearly empty to fully charged in the span of five minutes. This ki rejuvenation is constant, replenishing like a never ending stream born from within.

This ki is born of the divine so it is limited to holy effects. Given it's affinity he's mostly locked to effects which only effect him, the closer the better. The various applications are as follows:

Divine Might |Toggleable|
Al is able to boost his strength to superhuman levels, allowing him to bring a speeding bus to a dead stop with the right footing. This power is spread through his entire body, making him stronger all throughout himself. This power is only at it's strongest unarmed however. Using a weapon reduces the force of it's impact as a result of his strength by half, decreasing from there in proportion to the length of the weapon. The maximum force to length ratio begins at a small knife and simply shrinks further for longer weapons. Almost nothing Al wields impacts harder than his fists, feet, knees, elbows, head or just him in general. Thrown objects will still maintain the full force born from the use of his strength however since throwing something does not count as making it an extention to himself, thus the ki never leaves his body which allows it to maintain full potency.

This power drains a steady amount of ki while active, only slightly less than the amount he passively rejuvenates. He can choose to relinquish his strength and regain it at will nigh instantaneously. In addition when this power is used against demonic subjects or things with demonic energy present in or upon them the effects of this power are doubled. Furthermore this power infuses his attacks with a spiritual ki which can effect intangible foes such as ghosts and other phantasmal entities so long as they possess a soul. The ki infusing his strength interacts with the soul as physical matter would with the flesh.

Divine Protection |Reactive|
Upon taking damage Al's ki will harden around the area harmed, turning his flesh and bone into reactive armor. His flesh becomes as hard as steel while still maintaining it's organic flexibility and his bone becomes as solid as high carbon substances such as diamonds or cubic zirconias. Unlike Divine Might Al can conduct a lesser portion of this power to others through touch. Al must remain in physical contact with the subject in order to continue channeling his ki through them and as such the protection will end immediately upon loss of contact. In addition the protection is only half as effective for the recipient than it is for him.

This power requires no manual activation, only spending ki upon shielding against damage. The amount of ki spent upon activation is proportionate to the amount of damage received, up to the limit of damage it's hardness can endure. In addition when this power opposes anything demonic or containing demonic energy it will only spend half as much ki to shield against the damage as it would for a regular attack. Furthermore this power will defend against spirits and other phantasmal foes in possession of a soul as if they were solid.

Divine Healing |Channeled|
Al's most notable ability, the power to heal wounds and purify ailments at a relatively rapid rate. At will he can focus his ki, spurring it to begin restoring his body to it's predetermined state as according to the blueprint of his soul. The rate at which it heals is as follows:

Small wounds & bruises - between five to ten seconds for full recovery.
Large wounds, small burns and minor fractures - between ten to thirty seconds before it ascends to a lesser wound category.
Major wounds, second to third degree burns and large fractures - between thirty seconds to one minute before it ascends to a lesser wound category.
Deadly wounds, limb loss and bone breaks - between one to three minutes before it ascends to a lesser wound category.
Nigh fatal wounds, multiple limb losses, major bone and/or torso destruction - between three to five minutes before it ascends to a lesser wound category.
Wounds greater than this cannot be healed from as they result in near immediate brain death.

If limbs are removed but later placed back on the healing to restore said limb is one category higher. Types of injuries not listed above are to be given an approximate estimate of severity which will decide where among these categories it falls under. The same can be said of diseases, poisons, and even magical ailments. Anything that is at all connected to Al's body directly can eventually be undone with relative haste. The same can be said for afflictions of the mind. If something alters his memories however the process of restoring his mind might leave him with selective amnesia as it will purge the altered memories along with whatever else is influencing him.

This power drains a steady amount of ki while active at a rate which is just slightly more than the amount he passively rejuvenates. Al can conduct this power to others through maintained direct physical contact. The healing takes twice as long for others and costs double the amount of ki. In addition this power holds no benefit for subjects with demonic energy present within them as the ki will damage them for as much as it heals them.

Divine Flight |Passive|
Al possesses the ability to fly at will. He is currently unaware of this ability however. At first he will begin to understand that he can make himself lighter at will, allowing him to jump greater and greater distances until he eventually is able to cease falling altogether. With training he will learn how to direct his motion in midair until he attains a finer degree of control over his aerial movements.

This power is technically always active but can be consciously suppressed if needed. The power costs slightly less ki than roughly a quarter of the rate at which he rejuvenates it.

SPECIAL MOVES & TECHNIQUES
He has none currently available to him.

SUPER MOVES
He has none currently available to him.

WEAKNESSES & LIMITS

Al's biggest weakness is his relative lack of training. He's competent in Thai Boxing but that's about it. While his innate angelic powers more than make up for his lack of experience in combat their nature is bent more towards healing and defense, leaving him quite lacking in diversity when it comes time to attack. All he has to throw at his opponents are unarmed strikes and whatever his creativity can come up with at the moment.

Due to his ki's innate nature being limited strictly to his body his ability to fight at a range is nearly non-existant. He makes up for it largely by closing the distance between him and his opponent however he can. While he might have versatile mobility if he's unable to reach his opponent he'll be at a significant disadvantage.

As for his defense he's vulnerable to being pressured for extended periods without rest. Given even a brief reprieve he can recuperate a great deal but when forced to use multiple powers all at once or simply hit with an onslaught of attacks for his defense to soak he'll start to run out of ki. When he runs completely out ki not only do all his powers deactivate but he also passes out for about a minute since his stamina is directly tied to his ki. This leaves him completely vulnerable for that amount of time.

Lastly there are instances where he'll be reluctant to fight back. He'd much rather avoid hurting women and children even if by not doing so he puts himself and others in danger.

OTHER

[ hr]

Nothing else as of yet.

World Warriors: The Nomadic Fist [A Quirky Fighting Game Inspired Roleplay Reboot]

@KaiserElectric @Savo - Glad to hear. I suppose the posting of characters will wait until the main OOC is made?

Edit: Shame I didn't refresh the page six minutes ago. Oh well.

World Warriors: The Nomadic Fist [A Quirky Fighting Game Inspired Roleplay Reboot]

After a cursory read I do believe the prospect of an open ended fighting rp strikes my fancy. I'll be giving this one my attention, if you'll have me.

Kenja no Isan

Thessir

Words went spoken. Silly, sordid words.

When the lady of fish spoke of friends in high places he chuckled to himself. He might of known people that perhaps were nice enough to call friends but none of them were like that of those who she spoke of. Then again, nobility only ever wanted to make friends with two kinds of people: Generals and poisoners. He was no general.

Of course the real news came from the hostess herself. "Of course, I mean you, any of you, no harm."

Meaning no harm meant little. She wouldn't have to so much as raise a finger in order to deliver them into a fate most unpleasant. Thessir stood with his hat canted forward so the tall white woman could see less of his expression as a `Just in case` measure. With his right foot leaning up on the heel he left his hands to rest in his pockets as he listened on.

_
Just like the woman of the water she spoke of the positions each sage would hold in their respective societies. His grin tightened when she mentioned the Sage of Darkness's position as the shaman of the tribes. The last thing he desired was to return to the underground and stand before his kind. Ruler or not he could live the rest of his life never seeing another Nyxian face and he'd only be happier for it. He tried to make sure his smile didn't look forced but it was hard.

What she said next was of the most interest. An actual answer for once! Not that it was of comfort but hearing something that could be tangibly verified was preferred to the cryptic insinuations she was dishing out. An island three million years old, an ancient evil from the era of the original sages. All that and he was sure there was more to the story than what little was told. She was sparing with details and he had a feeling there was a reason behind that. If life were so convenient as to make him a sage with a dry cut `Defeat the Bad Guy` challenge as the only barrier between him and a life of unsurpassed magical prowess then he wouldn't of suffered injustices so great in the first place. No, he learned well that good circumstances were made, not found.

But there was no turning back at this point. He looked over to the woman in question when Aether mentioned the shifter. Of course she'd make an appeal to an instance of blind trust. What sort of con artist wouldn't?

_
As if to hammer home the point that showing up was all the consent these people needed she revealed that each of these little idols to the elements held people who would talk to them as well. What that really meant was that the whole time they were surrounded. He was quite thoroughly the opposite of overjoyed but he looked no less glad, a veritable beam of sunshine was he.

"Heheheh. A chat? Zoundz illuminating."

He gave another loopy chuckle after his little joke considering his area was the one with the big dark building with darkness inside. He turned on his heels to the place where she claimed there was a party ready to initiate.

"After meeting zo many new friendzs I feel glowing! I can't wait to chat with new paaaalllzzzz!" He threw his arms up, cheering on the last word. With his sleeves whipping in the wind he dropped his arms down and then strode proudly towards the black rose sector. He briefly considered strolling over to the big tree to try and throw expectations askew but then decided against it. But imagine if the only Nyxian here was actually an earth sage? How interesting would that be? He considered as he proudly walked up to the onyx building with a comically exaggerated march.

Coming to a stop before the structure he looked up until the small building was in full view. He waited at the entrance, looking up expectingly.

"Er... Knock knock?"

Terra

Violet, The Shroomfolk.

Picture enclosed.

Profile

"From my studies I can deduce a number of details about this enigmatic species. These mobile fungi seem to communicate via a pattern of lights emitted from their 'eyes' so to speak. As I've observed the frequency of these flashes relay details while the color indicates the emotional context of their words. From what I can tell this one particular flora I have before me indicates itself as a more violet-ish color. I shall call it Violet as it has come to understand my language and indicates that as correct.

Teaching this one subject to listen and write has been a hard but fruitful effort as it has given me insight no others possess of this remarkable species. Seeing as it is incapable of vocalization I figured it would be best if it could write as a means of communicating with others of our kind. So far Violet has taken well to my lessons. This discourse we've shared has illuminated much about the shroomfolk.

For example as they get older they do not wither as we fauna do. Rather, they simply continue to grow as they age. Their growth is tied closely to their available food source as well. The more fertile the soil, the larger they grow. Violet itself is 3.048 meters tall and it is far from the largest of them. I've been told their largest member is as big as the mountain. While for most I'd accept this as a figure of speech given how literally Violet interprets words I see this as cause of both curiosity and alarm. Luckily the larger members of their society do not mobilize unless their colony is endangered or their food source dwindles. The soil must be rich indeed to keep something of such size placated.

_
Before I continue perhaps I should elaborate more on the physical details of the shroomfolk, for those who aren't familiar with the species. They are a race of rather lively mushrooms that inhabit a fairly mountainous region to the west. They are animate at every size cycle beyond the spore and live in rather large colonies. Their caps are a pale mossy green color while their stem takes on a more earthy greyish brown appearance. Extending from the sides of their convex caps are a set of arms formed from the hardy mycelium that comprises the surface of their caps. These arms typically possess three digits per hand and are not limited in motion due to their lack of bones. Despite the absent skeletal structure they are no less solid as the mycelium of their cap is both quite firm and strong, requiring significant force and effort to cut through as I've seen demonstrated in their altercations with natural predators.

The cap itself possess large pores that sit between the cap and the gills (A wide and thin sheet-like series of plates radiating from the stem). These pores take in air and can on occasion exhume clouds of spores, spreading their young about as they go. These spores are fairly tolerant, clinging to whatever surface they reach and extending their hyphae. While these spores only grow in soil they are quite dangerous to breath. Autopsies have shown common folk with spores stuck in their lungs and throat, their mycelia rooting them to the inner tissue of their lungs and up their throat as well.

Below all that lies their stem, the softest part of their bodies. At the center of a single side of their stem lie their eyes which are light sensitive nodules. Typically surrounding these nodules are bioluminescent chambers which flash and change colors based on the composition of chemicals reacting within. At the base of the stem they possess a pair of squat little legs which they use to move about, albeit rather slowly. Despite lacking haste in their short legs they are still several magnitudes faster than most species of mushroom. They also seem to use these legs to take in nutrients as well, taking root in rich soil until they are motivated to move again."

Biography

"My time with Violet has been a fascinating one. It is quite keen to learn the ways of other races and is undoubtably a curious mind as well. Apparently while color may indicate the emotional context of their language the color that their light chambers glow while they are idle is the color they identify each other by. Given the relation of emotion and color in their culture it seems what color they reside at while idling indicates their basic personality. For example while an orange shroomfolk might make for a good guard as they are fairly forward and tend to look out for danger a blue shroomfolk would prefer to avoid confrontation. Violet shroomfolk tend to be regarded for their wisdom and are well respected among their peers. Naturally of course those shroomfolk who are of the same color category differentiate each other based on the shade and hue of their light. None of their kind would mistake a lime green shroomfolk for a forest green shroomfolk.

Violet has come a long way from home, something it's kind are not accustomed to doing given their sedate nature. Even Violet is prone to spend exceptionally long periods of time doing little more than resting about and observing an area. This is interesting as it indicates a strong tie with their roots, moreso than many plantfolk. I have yet to discover evidence that shroomfolk didn't simply develop movement as a means of coping with the changes in their environment.

Amongst our many discussions we were discussing how it goes about it's travels given the various dangers that befall regular travelers and it's responses were most fascinating. It seems that while shroomfolk do not tend towards the use of tools they have developed a sort of bare handed style of martial combat. Those who choose to learn practice a style which emphasizes quick slaps and palm thrusts to bludgeon their opponents while keeping them locked in the center of their path so they can use their hardy caps to shield against blows.

One matter of importance is to not bring any open flame near a mushroom colony. As I learned with Violet they become extremely agitated near fire as they are apparently rather flammable. I count myself lucky that Violet showed as much restraint as it did given that particular slip up has cost unknowing travelers their lives.

With these findings and more I return to share this knowledge. It is my sincerest hope that these notes earn the approval of our doctor.
Praise be to the scalpel."

Relationships

((Pending.))

Terra

Violet, The Shroomfolk.

Picture enclosed.

Profile

"From my studies I can deduce a number of details about this enigmatic species. These mobile fungi seem to communicate via a pattern of lights emitted from their 'eyes' so to speak. As I've observed the frequency of these flashes relay details while the color indicates the emotional context of their words. From what I can tell this one particular flora I have before me indicates itself as a more violet-ish color. I shall call it Violet as it has come to understand my language and indicates that as correct.

Teaching this one subject to listen and write has been a hard but fruitful effort as it has given me insight no others possess of this remarkable species. Seeing as it is incapable of vocalization I figured it would be best if it could write as a means of communicating with others of our kind. So far Violet has taken well to my lessons. This discourse we've shared has illuminated much about the shroomfolk.

For example as they get older they do not wither as we fauna do. Rather, they simply continue to grow as they age. Their growth is tied closely to their available food source as well. The more fertile the soil, the larger they grow. Violet itself is 3.048 meters tall and it is far from the largest of them. I've been told their largest member is as big as the mountain. While for most I'd accept this as a figure of speech given how literally Violet interprets words I see this as cause of both curiosity and alarm. Luckily the larger members of their society do not mobilize unless their colony is endangered or their food source dwindles. The soil must be rich indeed to keep something of such size placated.

_
Before I continue perhaps I should elaborate more on the physical details of the shroomfolk, for those who aren't familiar with the species. They are a race of rather lively mushrooms that inhabit a fairly mountainous region to the west. They are animate at every size cycle beyond the spore and live in rather large colonies. Their caps are a pale mossy green color while their stem takes on a more earthy greyish brown appearance. Extending from the sides of their convex caps are a set of arms formed from the hardy mycelium that comprises the surface of their caps. These arms typically possess three digits per hand and are not limited in motion due to their lack of bones. Despite the absent skeletal structure they are no less solid as the mycelium of their cap is both quite firm and strong, requiring significant force and effort to cut through as I've seen demonstrated in their altercations with natural predators.

The cap itself possess large pores that sit between the cap and the gills (A wide and thin sheet-like series of plates radiating from the stem). These pores take in air and can on occasion exhume clouds of spores, spreading their young about as they go. These spores are fairly tolerant, clinging to whatever surface they reach and extending their hyphae. While these spores only grow in soil they are quite dangerous to breath. Autopsies have shown common folk with spores stuck in their lungs and throat, their mycelia rooting them to the inner tissue of their lungs and up their throat as well.

Below all that lies their stem, the softest part of their bodies. At the center of a single side of their stem lie their eyes which are light sensitive nodules. Typically surrounding these nodules are bioluminescent chambers which flash and change colors based on the composition of chemicals reacting within. At the base of the stem they possess a pair of squat little legs which they use to move about, albeit rather slowly. Despite lacking haste in their short legs they are still several magnitudes faster than most species of mushroom. They also seem to use these legs to take in nutrients as well, taking root in rich soil until they are motivated to move again."

Biography

"My time with Violet has been a fascinating one. It is quite keen to learn the ways of other races and is undoubtably a curious mind as well. Apparently while color may indicate the emotional context of their language the color that their light chambers glow while they are idle is the color they identify each other by. Given the relation of emotion and color in their culture it seems what color they reside at while idling indicates their basic personality. For example while an orange shroomfolk might make for a good guard as they are fairly forward and tend to look out for danger a blue shroomfolk would prefer to avoid confrontation. Violet shroomfolk tend to be regarded for their wisdom and are well respected among their peers. Naturally of course those shroomfolk who are of the same color category differentiate each other based on the shade and hue of their light. None of their kind would mistake a lime green shroomfolk for a forest green shroomfolk.

Violet has come a long way from home, something it's kind are not accustomed to doing given their sedate nature. Even Violet is prone to spend exceptionally long periods of time doing little more than resting about and observing an area. This is interesting as it indicates a strong tie with their roots, moreso than many plantfolk. I have yet to discover evidence that shroomfolk didn't simply develop movement as a means of coping with the changes in their environment.

Amongst our many discussions we were discussing how it goes about it's travels given the various dangers that befall regular travelers and it's responses were most fascinating. It seems that while shroomfolk do not tend towards the use of tools they have developed a sort of bare handed style of martial combat. Those who choose to learn practice a style which emphasizes quick slaps and palm thrusts to bludgeon their opponents while keeping them locked in the center of their path so they can use their hardy caps to shield against blows.

One matter of importance is to not bring any open flame near a mushroom colony. As I learned with Violet they become extremely agitated near fire as they are apparently rather flammable. I count myself lucky that Violet showed as much restraint as it did given that particular slip up has cost unknowing travelers their lives.

With these findings and more I return to share this knowledge. It is my sincerest hope that these notes earn the approval of our doctor.
Praise be to the scalpel."

Relationships

((Pending.))

No Hope, No Glory, No Problem - A No More Heroes RP

Omnivore

If she still had lips to move she'd of been grinning like crazy as she elicited a most delightful response from Rubert like the big dumb vegetable he was. His tantrum spurred a girlish giggle form herself. He was as amusing as he was sluggish. He was so unthreatening to her in fact that she didn't make a single motion to avoid the splinters when he put his fists partways into the bar top.

As if to answer her question in person the beefiest fellow in the bar made his introductions, as did the beanpole who crashed through the window. Her gaze dropped to the hand the large british guy extended her. Reaching out from underneath the white tarp was something that looked like five claw shaped short swords joined together by the palm. Due to the disparity between their finger lengths her claws wound up coiling up his forearm like a sort of ornate bracelet until her full hand had a grip on his arm.

With that she shook his hand. His grip was strong, perhaps as strong as hers was. It was impressive for a normie to get this strong, not even most mutants were able to score muscles like that. One thing was for certain: He was no normal normie. Maybe an abnormie.

"Name's Anny! Good to meet'cha Oz. For Person's sake I hope you both don't die too quick." After letting go of his arm, leaving a set of shallow marks on his skin upon releasing her hold, she tucked her claws back under the disguise and looked over to see all their agents leaving.

_
"Hey Person, Let me know who I gotta kill as soon as you can! Don't keep 'ya girl waiting~" She called out to her agent, able to lilt the end of her sentence in a cutesy manner since all she needed to do to raise her voice was pump up the volume of her speaker. She hoped he could hear her since she wasn't gonna hunt him down just to make sure.

As she was disappointed in the level of killing that transpired there she felt quite fine with leaving the bar and taking off to less public territory. From an observers view the mass under the tarp would seem to be just sliding across to the end of the bar as she skittered over. In a fluttering blur the sheet flew from the bar out onto the city street, cracking the end of the bar in half from the sheer force of her leap whilst leaving several holes through it's wooden surface. She managed to clear the street itself entirely for that matter, landing right on the sidewalk opposite to the bar. In another powerful jump she launched up from the street right to the top of a utility pole.

Letting go of a corner of her tarp briefly she reached down with her tongue and clamped onto the power line. The buildings on the block's lights all flickered as she siphoned away their electricity. After giving herself a bit of an energy boost she leapt straight up to the roof of the tallest building nearby in a single bound. Her jumps were so fast the wind whipped against her tarp with fierce rapidity. If it weren't for the fact the ends were clamped down the wind would of very well blown her guise clear off. As it was those below were left only to look upon the back of the blank white figure as it quickly slipped past the edge of the roof top and into the dark of night.