BCTheEntity

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Alessa Heather: PRT HQ

Alessa fondled Lillian's hair for a moment as she leant on her shoulder and inhaled - these were a normal relationship thing to do, wasn't it? Yeah, probably, though she didn't have much experience in the matter. Plus, she knew Lillian's enhanced senses were a thing, so maybe that'd help. Regardless, Alessa nodded and obediently followed Director Kens and the other Protectorate heroes to the conference room, her hand intertwined with Lillian's along the way. He was right; to have a fight about whatever this situation was in a public area would just be unprofessional as anything. And as far as her input went, well, she was the leader of the Wards at the moment, whether or not she was very good at it. She had to wonder about that, given how Margrave had seemingly vanished, right?

But, well, she could make a difference here, she considered as she took a seat. And from what she was reading - moderate autism, hospital records indicating injuries from his fellows that he was lucky to survive, oh dear God, she didn't know specifically what effects autism had on a person but if they contributed to Shatterpoint's wailing earlier... oh God, that must have been hell for him-

She caught herself hyperventilating slightly, and forced herself to breath in and out very slowly. No wonder he'd turned to villainy, then, if he'd been subjected to all that abuse even after Triggering. She honestly wondered if she wouldn't do the same, under those conditions - just as Kens had stated. Well, she wouldn't normally, of course not. But then she didn't have autism. For her part, she'd not had any other choice but to become a hero, since most of her family had died after all. By contrast, Shatterpoint- Dexter- seemed to have had no other choice than to become a villain. Surely having everyone around you be an enemy, or at least seeming like it, was worse by far than just losing one's loved ones, right? And that just got her angry. They saw something different, and they attacked it, even when they should have known better. No wonder, no wonder, no wonder.

Lillian's statement basically confirmed what Alessa was already thinking. 'I think we should make him a Ward,' she agreed, nodding even as she tried to quell her outrage at his circumstances. 'It seems like he's never been given a fair chance in his whole life. Even Ceramix turned out to be willing to kill others, regardless of if it was for Dexter himself or not. How can you ask a person to do good things if they've never been given the chance or the exposure to something like that?' she asked, beginning to gesticulate in tandem with her words. 'How can you tell somebody they're terrible, when you're not the one who's treated like a monster, who's- who gets fucking beaten for something they can't control? How is- that isn't-!' She breathed in, then out again. Breath in, breath out. When had she stood up and starting pacing, again?

'It's not fair to tell a person they're irredeemable when nobody's willing to try in the first place,' she concluded, sitting back down and gritting her teeth with her frustration. She honestly hoped Evelyn would see her argument here, because if not, well... there was going to be an argument otherwise.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@POOHEAD189 Alright, cool. I thought it had been delivered already, just wanted to make sure nobody was off in that regard.

@Fetzen Well, then. Good thing he's not.

EDIT: Dammet, Sett's blessing was on the child proper after it was born. I just... there's reading to do when other people are involved in your scene dammet.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@Gardevoiran ...you might be right on that front, actually. In which case, I'm the one who'd need to edit. Please answer soon, @POOHEAD189, this is an important matter.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@Gardevoiran Uh, I think the bab was already delivered by the time of PH's post. Just a point regarding your post, is all.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

Aaaand posted. Hopefully everybody likes it; just need @Gardevoiran to updoot for that particular scene, I believe.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

It wasn't clear why exactly Geradin had followed Sett to the hut, to either Settionne himself or the husband of the woman in labour. The village itself, he'd realised on the pass through, was in the midst of being repaired and supplied; no wonder they'd asked for assistance, then, though it seemed like the meagre assistance that had been offered so far amounted to a scouting expedition and some physical labour - shirtless, mind, and wouldn't that be bad for their skin under such a hot sun? Not that he was one to tell others how to live their lives, of course...

Not, of course, that the woman giving birth was too concerned, given her situation. Speaking of which, it turned out there was plenty of labour for everyone present too, not just the mother and caretaker, not least of which was gathering water for the mother in an effort to soothe her - though at least the work helped take away from how uncomfortable the whole process was for Sett. More than once, his gaze shifted to the spectacle without meaning to before glancing away, an unusually grim sight despite how, under more relaxed circumstances, most men would be thrilled. "Relaxed circumstances", of course, was the key there, and the situation was anything but.

Thankfully, it was over before the hour was up. A child was born, and honestly, that was not what Sett had thought newborn children looked like. It was extremely small, and wrinkled, and it screamed like a banshee when Ursaren slapped its foot, come on, why would he do that? And oh gods, he had to hold it, he didn't know how to hold a child, at least it was swaddled now but did he look like a father? But he sure as hell had to pretend he knew how to hold it, so he basically just mimicked what Geradin was doing with his arm as a crook... theeeere. Alright, it was in his arm, squirming a little but not so much that it was at risk of falling away from him. Now, to bless this child... damn, weren't there ways of blessing a child in Fineki's holy book? Why would he not remember the most unused part of- well, okay, just... he ought to say something priestly.

'Child, under the watchful eye of the gods,' he began, pacing in a circle that subtly turned him away from all onlookers, 'I do bless you, that your life may be long, rich, and full.' Even as he spoke, one finger from his free hand traced in miniature the symbol of Fineki's cult upon the child's forehead, hopefully hidden from the others in the room. A blessing of luck, one could say - after all, enough luck would surely bring all three of those other blessings upon the child, right?

And like that, it was done. He handed the infant back to its mother's arms, and sighed internally as the pressure of doing any more for this situation left him. Oh, he hadn't realised how tense he was... rolling his shoulders lightly, he nodded at Geradin's statement and quietly uttered 'Yes, drinks would be appreciated. I'm quite thirsty.' Which, in fairness, was entirely truthful; he hadn't had a drink since breakfast, and oh heavens did time fly when one was delivering a baby.

@POOHEAD189@Gardevoiran@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@Stormflyx@Mortarion

One Piece: New Horizons!

Dirk Messir - Dead Man Flying, of the Jungle

YES, HE DID IT. BOTH THEY DID IT, it was done, cannons were smashed, and walls are meleeed. Meleed, no. The word will be "melee-ed", with three eees. And he should, melee this man, but he was there already meleeed. Or you could say smashed. Which was what his leg is.

Kill him Moron! Before he wakes up Murderer!

Uh, he is already dead. Maybe. He might be, yes. He should get medicae attention, Dirk. Go give him medicae attention, the court agrees to my demans TOO LATE! The bloodotope already his quarter life, and so he must observe with hasty.

'Smath. Help,' he said to Smath, before he hit another cannon off, and was in at to tigerland coat boye. He also will check to see what happenes in the happened tower room placeland. He'll make there sure to be sure how to what is happeneing in the room, but with where he'll follow the Divine Purpose to be in the right place at the right time. And the GOAL.

Then he took off the unconscious man's tiger-print coat, and put it on over the other coats he had on already. Perfect yes. Except not quite, hius flesh did hadn't weren't melted yet.

It won't melt. You aren't Bonesword, you utter disgrace.

Okay, but IMAGIEN shutting up because I have the best money coats can buy. Or wait, the other way around. The best buy coats and money. But yes, no, maybe. There was no help for that deadness deadant legs dead. He ded. Maybe. Maybe he'd lived though. Who caould say the truth? Not Dirk. Smarnth maybe.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Alessa Heather: PRT HQ

The film, Alessa found, was a good time all told, and she left on patrol feeling much better than she had, moreso even than she already was. That lasted just a little while, as at no point did she note even an inkling of criminal activity. Who’d be silly enough to commit a crime, after all, after a huge event like the fundraiser was attacked? Everyone would be on high alert.

And so she returned to the HQ again, this time for good, or so she imagined. She couldn’t think of anything that might call her away again... and this time around, she had Lillian calling her to her side again. Or at least a text message from her: Hey, Alessa, can we meet? I'm feeling a little down and bit distracted. I think I'm.... Yeah, I'm by the cells. Something's up. And frankly, what could Alessa do but go to her new girlfriend? Lillian needed somebody to talk to, Alessa wasn’t doing anything right then.

The whole situation got a bit more complicated as she approached. She caught, from a corner or so away, the tail end of Director Kens yelling about Shatterpoint, and how he’d never have started acting as Shatterpoint if his disability were managed properly; next, as she turned, she overheard Lillian suggesting... from the sound of things, it seemed like she was actually advocating for Shatterpoint, in a sense? But why, what was the context... from the snippets she caught, “he deserves a chance”, “just doing what he thought he had to”, “the right thing to do”, it almost sounded like she was-

"What?"

That one word had Alessa running the rest of the way to the cells and to the scene proper. On the one hand, the director, along with Inkscape, Protean, and Morales were stood just by Ceramix and Shatterpoint’s cells; then there was Lillian, standing just nearby, having apparently overheard their conversation; and then… Evelyn.

Alessa didn’t think she’d ever seen an angrier person in her life. Or, for that matter, the sort of bright flash of light she’d expect from her own powers, not Lyn’s. Somebody was going to get hurt if she didn’t intervene, she could feel it.

‘Er, before I say anything else, I think we should all just take a moment to relax,’ Alessa uttered, stepping deftly between Evelyn and Lillian, just as a barrier. She doubted Lillian or really anyone else needed her there, but given what Lyn could do with her powers, well... better to be safe than sorry. ‘I’m not entirely sure what we’re getting upset about, but it seems like it has something to do with Shatterpoint. I think as far as he goes, if he’s not been totally reprehensible, it might be worth giving him another chance? As far as I’m aware, he’s dealt out some injury, but no death...’ She left her sentence hanging, wanting to gauge everybody’s reactions before saying anything else, and definitely not wanting to upset anybody unduly.

---

Raymond Haywood: The Cruise Room

Frankly, moving Xolotl into the basement was a simple enough task. He remained unconscious for... well, far longer than Raymond would have expected him to. Actually, he was becoming mildly concerned at just how long the man had remained out for; it made transporting and restraining him simple, but brought to mind concerns about long-term brain damage, and he certainly wouldn’t have been worth taking all that way if he were a vegetable.

That, however, was an issue for later. More pertinently, they were switching out team members again: Heartless had been reassigned, and in his place, they were getting somebody called Alloy, along with a mission in just over a fortnight’s time intended to boost their credibility as a “good” faction: an A-Class villain attack, in a public place, that they would thwart in order to further the Broker’s interests and render themselves heroes in the eyes of the public. Only mildly byzantine intentions, then, though the note did tell Raymond something important: the Broker had access to long-term precognition, through some means or another, or else had very reliable informants. Perhaps that was to be expected, but then not everybody did.

Thunderbolt’s response was immediate - seek out crimes to stop, take the money, and turn the criminals over to authorities. Chatterbox’s idea only expanded upon this, reaching crimes before the Protectorate or local law enforcement whilst setting up his enthrallment in those within the area, and even setting up their own crime scenes specifically to thwart those crimes personally. Crafty bastard, wasn’t he? Exactly the sort of Thinker who’d normally be in a leadership position... and only now did it occur to Raymond that maybe he’d skipped being the field leader for precisely the same reason the true leader remained anonymous, in order to deflect attention from himself in case a tactical strike was performed. Hrm.

‘Good plan,’ he muttered, eyeing Chatterbox discreetly. Not for long, though - the sound of thudding footsteps made themselves known, and the eponymous Alloy finally unveiled herself, complete with mocktail. She certainly had the looks to match her name, seeming to be essentially made entirely of metal save her hair and one arm, though her outfit was ruthlessly casual. He hoped she wouldn’t be so at ease in the midst of their next assignment.

‘Jack Selser, field leader of the Jacks,’ he murmured, raising his voice just loud enough to carry to the woman who’d just come down to meet them. ‘I hope your combat experience matches the ease with which you carry yourself. We had another member who got too relaxed. Then they got captured.’ His mind flitted to the former member Love Craft for a time, and he ground his teeth at the thought of how much the PRT might know about him and the rest of the team as a result. It wouldn’t be a problem for Raymond if he’d moved on by now, but... to ease his mind, he went to grab a glass of water. Nothing he could do about it now, and if Drake’s plan went off without a hitch, their perceptions might be good enough that it wouldn’t matter either way.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Verum Autem Ex

@Old Amsterdam
Wandering through the gardens, Laurie wound her way through the Heirloom Garden, Victory Garden, Urban Bird Habitat, and Butterfly Habitat Garden with no sign of the rogue comedian. Heading down 7th Street toward the Museum & Sculpture Garden would prove a bit more fruitful, as a larger couple walking toward the Capitol could be heard complaining about "that awful jokester". Whether she interrogated them directly, or just strolled after them to overhear their conversation, she'd discover the information that the jokester in question was lurking somewhere around the Kathrine Dulin Folger Rose Garden.

There, she struck... something. One could say it was gold of some sort, but given what she was seeing, one might be more inclined to think it was something much less appealing. There was somebody who might've been a comedian, a lean man with a microphone in what looked to be a comedic suit, albeit in a nerdy and outdated pattern of blue-brown squares only further accentuated by the thick rectangular frames over his eyes, not to mention a head of brown hair in a combover that didn't really hide that most common of problems, male-pattern baldness.

The image was, however, utterly ruined by the lack of interested parties about him. There were a couple of people nearby, but neither seemed to consider him particularly interesting, even though his weak, uncertain voice projected from his briefcase as he spoke: 'S-so, uh, wha- um, WHAT is the DEAL with airline food? And also with, er, how, how white people- how they um, how uh- shoot, hold on,' he mumbled into the mic as he tried to grab some notes from his pocket, only to drop them on the ground next to him. The response from one of the people was to tell him to find some better references and start walking off.

As the man stammered and tried to follow after the retreating passerby, fate itself seemed to mock him - his foot found the pile of notes, slipped, and split his legs to a perfect 180 degree angle, drawing out a high-pitched squeal right as his body tipped forward, burying his face into a pile of dirt that could not have been more perfectly placed to fill his mouth if it had been put there deliberately.

As the unfortunate would-be comedian struggled to stand, spitting mud from between his teeth and trying to brush his face and suit clean, it was clear to see as one drew closer that he was bright red with embarrassment. He wasn't crying yet, but it seemed like he wasn't far from it either. Frankly, it'd be pathetic if it weren't so hilariously incompetent, and the last onlooker struggled to cover his mouth and hide his snickering. Here came the only hint so far that maybe this sad excuse for a funny guy was the man Laurie was looking for after all - despite prior embarrassment, the look he gave that man was venomous, conveying the fact that he'd had these sorts of situations happen to him before many times, and that he was utterly sick of it.

---

Meanwhile, Leonard and Mieke’s forays through the USNA were not quite as successful as Laurie’s. Sadly, they found nothing suggesting any comedians about, trying to rob people of their hard-earned money. They did, however, find some other characters within the park.

@ProPro
Leonard, making his way down Ellipse Road, found himself at the back of a small, yet rowdy crowd at the National Capitol Columns, just off of the Beechwood Road T-junction. Given the repetitive chanting of “What do we want? LESS GOVERNMENT! When do we want it? NOW!”, and the content of a large number of signboards, one could surmise that perhaps this demonstration was anti-government in nature. Whether or not one agreed with such notions, it was hard to deny as she began her speech that the orator was quite the agitator:

‘Ladies, gen’lemen, and those of unspecified gender! Do you know how much tax the average American pays in the modern world? Lemme tell you, the average American household pays four’een thousand, two hundred and ten dollars in tax every year! Nearly fif’een thousand dollars per year, folks - and that isn’ even including sales tax! Supposedly, that’s only four’een percen’ of the average American’s income, but how can that be when the average American household’s income is as low as fif’y seven thousand dollars? Fif’een thousand dollars into fif’y seven thousand does not add up to four’een percen’, fellas!’ Whether Leonard wanted to interrupt her or keep on listening, now seemed to be a good point to make his choice, with the crowd muttering loudly about the unfairness of it all as they were.

@knifeman
Mieke found herself at a much more immediately interesting landmark along Holly Spring Road. Long before she reached the Holly and Magnolia Collections, a tall tower of some sort was clearly visible, rendered in greater detail up close as what looked to be some sort of high-diving board painted in red and blue flames - with somebody short in what looked to be blue spandex and a thick helmet climbing it.

And at the base, surrounded by a moderately-sized swarm of onlookers with a lot of volume, were two more be-spandexed figures on, was that a podium? No, it actually looked to be a large van, and in fact there was a rather wider gap around the van than Mieke could account for if the whole area was filled with people, likely left for the pool the climber intended to dive into. Indeed, whilst one of the apparent presenters presented as a bulky figure of substantial fat and muscle, complete with incredibly bushy beard and bowl cut in black, the shorter of the two men seemed to be in charge, bearing a thin black moustache that twirled just as much as his black hair, a long red cape complete with yellow bow tie, and a pair of purple sunglasses glinting in the sun as much as his smile might, were he not working the crowd so much. Both, though, sported a burning yellow C in a white-outlined red circle, and one could make the educated guess that the bald climber might too.

‘LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!’ the leader finally yelled, his voice bearing a notably thick accent despite the very precise pronunciation of his words, not to mention wild gesticulation as he spoke and paced all at once. ‘It is nearly time for the main event! You have seen him tumble, you have seen him leap, you have even seen him tumble in the midst of a leap! BUSH LEAGUE! Behold, as the fearless Lee Crue leaps from a hundred-foot diving board, and plummets down into a pool merely SIX FEET DEEP! THE HIGH DIIIIIVE OF MAAADNESS!’ Despite his eyes being covered, it was quite clear how excited the speaker was to witness “Lee” perform this stunt, perhaps more than he ought to be. If Mieke wanted to see the culmination of the stunt up close, she’d likely have to push through the crowd more than she was normally comfortable with.

Uncharted Isle. (A Monster Hunter RP)

The First Boy In A Long String Of Potent Boys

Name: Yurel

Species: Jaggi

Gender: Male

Habitat: Desert

Personality: Yurel seems mildly defensive relative to his companions, and has a tendency to keep his head and neck out of harm's way, preferring in a fight to pull his head back over risking an attack that may not hit, and is almost never the first to charge into an actual battle.

Appearance: Yurel has some bite scars on his head and neck, and seems to wheeze slightly as he breathes, something which also alters the tone of his hissing just a touch.