BCTheEntity

From Ashes We Rise : The Imperium Is Born

Primarch X

Name: Dorath'en'Vorth - "The Dragon of Woe"

Legion: Pyre Raptors, the Xth Legion.

Homeworld: Phlogiston Quaternus - A world of dragons. Literally. There is no word for "animal" or "creature" on Phlogiston Quaternus; the concept of dragons has overtaken it wholly, and for good reason. Every single beast on the planet short of humans themselves takes the form of some sort of draconic entity, ochre-skinned monsters engulfed in purple chitinous armour, with bio-plasmic breath weapons galore. A great many of these even have wings - dragon-eagles, dragon-wolves, dragon-tigers, even dragon-turtles - and if they aren't dragons with wings, then they are likely their six-legged drake cousins, who in truth are simply lesser dragons. Furthermore, the flora of Phlogiston Quaternus is warped and alien in form, whilst the air is typically choked with spores spat into the air by these plants: wonderful for the dragons, inimical to humanity.

One may wonder how humanity has survived on this world; nay, thrived, for their hive cities are grand and technologically advanced, in spite of both the local environs and external factors. Not towering constructs of reinforced rockcrete and plasteel, these spires are smaller, far more stable, and even pleasant to the eye, though each is surrounded by autonomous defense systems keeping out dragon and drake alike, though the exact nature of these systems goes unknown to the typical civilian. More concerning to an outsider are the gladiatorial pits that most of these cities seem to use as entertainment, scattered across the levels and even extending into multi-storey amphitheaters for those from certain cities, wherein those ruling up above as well as the more typical citizenry further down enjoy gory spectacles on a daily basis.

The truth is, though most know it not, Phlogiston Quaternus is a low-level Daemon World, or at least headed in that direction: not yet dragged into the Warp, but inching ever closer with every deal the ruling sorcerers make with their "aether-dragon familiars", every life sacrificed to them for personal gain and protection of their territories, every soul burned by the pits to fuel their city's defense systems. Perhaps the only reason it has yet to fall outright is due to how these hives tend toward internecine conflict over which way of life is better - that is, which Chaos God ought to reign supreme upon the world - as well as both daemonic and mutated threats spawned from within and the draconic nightmare beyond their bounds, devouring everything within their walls when they tumble into outright madness long before the madness can spread beyond them.

Not all cities scattered across the world are so vile, but few remain that have not taken to this brand of disturbing symbiosis, and those that do are ever-imperiled by the creatures lurking at the walls of these easier, more resource-dependent targets. The Long Night has been long indeed, and the race to the bottom is swift when the price can be readily paid by someone else.

Psyker Grade: Uncertain, no formal measurement. Likely Gamma, focused on Pyromancy and Telepathy with lesser presentation of Biomancy.

Skills/Abilities:
Draconic Figure - A mix of factors has led the Xth Primarch to develop a look akin to that of the mythical dragons of Ancient Terran lore. Whilst still recognisably human in frame, his pupils present as cross-shaped slits within flame-like irises, his fingers are tipped with diamond-hard rending claws, and he need only open his mouth wide to reveal a mawful of oversized, retractable teeth, with features representing a wide range of predatory beasts. In addition, he seems to be all but immune to heat and flame alike, not so much as charring in temperature ranges including those of molten metals, re-entry speeds, or plasma blasts and other heat-based weaponry. Lastly, whilst any of the native abilities of a Space Marine are naturally enhanced in their Primarchs, the Xth's unusual modifications lead to his upper gastro-intestinal tract and associated glands producing substances that mix into something closer to self-igniting promethium than acid, letting him more or less spit napalm at enemies and consume substances that even other Primarchs wouldn't risk stomaching.

Survival - Dorath'en'Vorth is unnervingly capable of surviving in, quite literally, the most inhospitable conditions known to mankind. He possesses an inhuman tolerance for extreme conditions, from intense heat to glacial cold to radiation that would kill an Ork in minutes, as well as an innate understanding of what is and isn't useful for survival under such duress, including what can and cannot be consumed for sustenance. Furthermore, his body will continue adapting to these conditions over time through exposure, making them ever less concerning for him even as he instinctively processes how best to render an environment that most would consider unworkable suitable for human life and further occupation.
Should a locale prove utterly uninhabitable even to his extraordinary physique, or in other equally extreme circumstances, he can enter what is essentially a state of cryptobiosis: the suspended animation of lesser Space Marines extrapolated to the natural logical conclusion of a Primarch's near-demigod physique, complete with a nigh-indestructible cocoon of hardened bone, keratin, and chitin, as his physique gradually adapts to the outside environment until he is ready to emerge once more.

Creature Empathy - To complement his innate survival traits, the Dragon of Woe has an unnerving capacity to telepathically commune with any local wildlife, even those that ought to be extraordinarily hostile. Through subtle psychic rewiring and what may as well be innate animal magnetism, he is able to convey his wishes to fauna expertly, and without further goading they will assuredly be followed through on. Indeed, this connection seems to remain even after he has left, letting him more or less domesticate creatures that would be basically unmanageable for anyone else, and ensure that they remain in that state even with planetary, and perhaps even astronomical distances between them.

Infernal Rapture - Should worst come to worst, and Dorath'en'Vorth suffers from mortal harm, he has one final trick up his sleeve. Rather than merely succumbing to injury, his body will sooner or later ignite, spontaneously combusting from within and searing away those threats about his person, before the Dragon of Woe steps forth from the pyre in phoenix-like repose, unmarred by his past wounds. What this represents on the level of his soul, whether it be a potent psychic reaction or something more meaningful, remains to be seen.

Appearance: As described above, Dorath'en'Vorth's features have a distinctly draconic bearing. However, his body is still far from unrecognisable as human. Indeed, behind the natural weapons, he is almost average in appearance, at least for somebody destined to become an 11'7" tall wall of lean muscle with limited interest in self-grooming; but at rest, he bears quite unremarkable dark-brown hair, tied together into wide, pointed locks for the sake of keeping its length out of his eyes, and his skin is a distinct tan blend averaging about every tone one might find within baseline humanity, with scarring to spare too. Of course, in more extreme environments that demand it, his skin tone is likely to shift drastically - but strangely, so too does his hair, seemingly changing colour with no shedding. His musculature and even skeletal height are prone to warp swiftly yet subtly too, in appropriate circumstances; regardless, he is not consciously aware of these changes as they happen, and rarely implements them with intent.

Concept: Terraformer - The Xth Primarch was designed with extremely malleable DNA bases, essentially mixing together a great many Terran animals to provide, at least in due course, whatever biological tools he might need to survive even on the harshest of worlds, and from there to engage in whatever activities were necessary to convert that world into a planet suitable for habitation by humans.

Legion X

Legion Name: Pyre Raptors

Associated Primarch: Dorath'en'Vorth

Concept: Charging in on assault bikes, speeders, jetbikes, jump packs, and grav-vehicles, the Xth Legion is designed with the intent to break down enemy civilisations to the point that they can no longer resist invasion by the Emperor's greater forces. Their purpose in war is not merely to defeat their foes, but to end their threat by violently sabotaging their logistical infrastructure - ideally before they can even understand that everything they've strived for has been reduced to nothing more than ash and rubble - and then frustrating efforts to rebuild until either society collapses under the inertia of failing supply lines and non-functional core industries, or additional forces finish the job of crushing all resistance. Stealth is an option for the Legion if needs must, but it is a secondary tool compared to the preferred modus operandi: pushing to the heart of the enemy in a rapid, overwhelming spear of destruction, typically through the application of intense heat, with volkite, fused hydrogen, promethium, plasma, and phosphor providing the standard firepower for this Legion.
In turn, however, they inherit their Primarch's drive to follow up by restoring the sites they have devastated after surrender and occupation has been achieved, rendering them suitable once more for humans to start living and building in, as well as restructuring those worlds whose ecosystems may not otherwise be suitable. This post-war rebirth may be seen as a waste of good Space Marines by some, although with how quickly they can act in revitalisation after initial destruction, and the extended need for suppression of rebels in the short term, they are rarely an unnecessary placement until greater manpower can be implemented.

From Ashes We Rise : The Imperium Is Born

Primarch X

Name: N/A

Legion: Xth Legion, to be named the Pyre Raptors by the Emperor.

Homeworld: Phlogiston-4 - A world of dragons. Literally. There is no word for "animal" or "creature" on Phlogiston-4; the concept of dragons has overtaken it wholly, and for good reason. Every single beast on the planet short of humans themselves takes the form of some sort of draconic entity, red-skinned monsters engulfed in purple chitinous armour and with bio-plasmic breath weapons galore. A great many of these even have wings - dragon-eagles, dragon-wolves, dragon-tigers, even dragon-turtles - and if they aren't dragons with wings, then they are likely their six-legged drake cousins, who in truth are simply lesser dragons. Furthermore, the flora of Phlogiston-4 is warped and alien in form, whilst the air is typically choked with spores spat into the air by these plants: wonderful for the dragons, inimical to humanity.
One may wonder how humanity has survived on this world - nay, thrived, for their cities are quite vast and technologically advanced, in spite of both the local environs and external factors. The truth is, though most know it not, Phlogiston-4 is a low-level Daemon World: not yet dragged into the Warp in full, but inching ever closer with every deal the ruling sorcerers make with their "dragon familiars", every life sacrificed to them for personal gain and protection of their territories, every soul burned to fuel their city's defense systems. Not all of these cities are so vile, but few remain that have not taken to this brand of disturbing symbiosis. The Long Night has been long indeed, and the race to the bottom is swift when the price can be readily paid by someone else.

Psyker Grade: Uncertain, no conscious awareness of psychic abilities. Likely Gamma or Delta.

Skills/Abilities:
Draconic Figure - A mix of factors has led the Xth Primarch to develop a look that is not too far divorced from that of the mythical dragons of Ancient Terran lore. Whilst still recognisably human in figure, much of his body is coated with purple, scute-like scales; his mouth a mawful of sharp teeth, his fingernails diamond-hard rending claws; and from his back, two stubs of flesh that will become great scaled wings, offering flight in his adulthood. In addition, he seems to be all but immune to heat and flame alike, not so much as charring in temperature ranges including those of molten metals, re-entry speeds, or plasma blasts and other heat-based weaponry. Lastly, whilst any of the native abilities of a Space Marine are naturally enhanced in their Primarchs, the 6th's unusual modifications lead to saliva that is closer to self-igniting promethium than acid, letting him spit what is effectively napalm at enemies.
Survival - The Xth Primarch is unnervingly capable of surviving in, quite literally, the most inhospitable conditions known to mankind. He possesses an innate understanding of what is and isn't useful for survival, including what can and cannot be consumed for sustenance, as well as how to render an environment that most would consider unworkable suitable for human life and further construction. In the worst case scenarios, where there is literally no way to survive an environment otherwise or if dealt an otherwise-lethal wound, he can enter what is essentially a state of cryptobiosis, effectively the suspended animation of lesser Space Marines extrapolated to the natural logical conclusion of a Primarch's near-demigod physique, complete with a nigh-indestructible cocoon of hardened bone, keratin, and chitin.
Creature Empathy - To complement his innate survival traits, the Xth Primarch has an unnerving capacity to commune with any local wildlife, even those that ought to be extraordinarily hostile. Through a combination of what seems to be natural animal magnetism, and possibly a degree of psychic communication, he is able to convey his wishes to fauna expertly, and without further goading they will assuredly be followed through on. Indeed, this connection seems to remain even after he has left, letting him more or less domesticate creatures that would be basically unmanageable for anyone else, and ensure that they remain in that state even with planetary, and perhaps even astronomical distances between them.
Battle Frenzy - Simply put, if compelled to fight for an extended timeframe or under heavy mental duress, the Xth is liable to begin subconsciously exchanging technique and intellect for expanded raw power. As he falls into this state, he begins to bulk out heavily, and his movements become more animalistic, relying on instinct and hyperawareness of his surroundings to battle. Eventually, firearms and even more advanced melee weapons are likely to be abandoned, for the sake of killing with his hands, teeth, and perhaps even his own latent psychic power.

Appearance: As described above, much of the Xth Primarch's form is distinctly dragon-esque in looks. However, his body is still far from unrecognisable as human. Indeed, underneath the scales and teeth, he is almost average in appearance, at least for somebody destined to become an 11 foot tall wall of muscle with limited interest in self-grooming; but at rest, he bears quite unremarkable dark-brown hair, tied together into wide, pointed locks for the sake of keeping its length out of his eyes, and his skin tone is a distinct tan blend averaging about every tone one might find within baseline humanity, with scarring to spare too. Of course, in more extreme environments that demand it, his skin tone is likely to shift drastically - but strangely, so too does his hair colour, seemingly shifting colour with no shedding. It may be that his musculature and even skeletal height change swiftly yet subtly too, in appropriate circumstances; if so, it'd likely be impossible to claim no psychic power was involved, but regardless, he is not consciously aware of these changes as they happen.

Concept: Survivalist - The Xth Primarch was designed with extremely malleable DNA bases, essentially mixing together a great many Terran animals to provide, at least in due course, whatever biological tools he might need to survive even on the harshest of worlds, and from there to engage in whatever activities were necessary to convert that world into a planet suitable for habitation by humans.

Legion X

Legion Name: Pyre Raptors

Associated Primarch: X

Concept: Blitzkrieg debellatio - Charging in on assault bikes, jetbikes, jump packs, and grav-vehicles, the Xth Legion is designed with the intent to crush opposition in an overwhelming wave of destruction, typically through the application of intense heat. Promethium, plasma, phosphor, and even phosphex are all close to standard issue for this Legion, for their purpose in war is not merely to defeat their foes, but annihilate them utterly before they can so much as prepare to strike back - and ideally before they can even understand that they have just been reduced to nothing more than ash. Though of course, they inherit their Primarch's drive to follow up by revitalising the sites they have devastated, rendering them suitable once more for humans to start living and building in.

One Piece: The Sea Reaver Pirates Reborn

Prima D. Louis

"I am the King of the Bandar-log... call me Louie."

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Personal Information

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_Name:

Prima D. Louis

_Epithet:

"King Louie"

_Race:

Ōminkumimi, or "Great Mink Ears" - Typical half-Mink, half-human hybrids tend to be referred to as "Mink Ears", since in many cases only their extremities will have any animalistic appearance to them, such as ears, tails, and maybe some extra body hair. Great Mink Ears are the same concept applied to giants, and are to the Mink Tribe as Wotans are to fishmen: much larger and with significant power, but only a proportion of that originating from their giant heritage.

_Gender:

Male

_{Blood Type:}

XF (Rh-)

_Age:

48

_Height:

910 cm (29'10")

_Weight:

10430 kg (23000 lbs)

_{Role In Crew:}

Navigator

_Bounty:

320,000,000 Beri

_Dream:

For a long while, his goal has been to protect the the Bandar-log and its inhabitants from abuse and exploitation. But with time to assess the situation after the Raid, and knowing the Sea Reaver Pirates are likely to be considered a non-threat after their crushing defeat, he's come to seek a new goal: to end the exploitation of all who can't protect themselves. Or, if he can't achieve this himself, to find somebody who can.

_{Appearance Details:}

His fur colour is a lot more orange than portrayed above, akin to his Mink side's orangutan-like nature. For similar reasons, his arms are also significantly longer than shown, though not double-jointed as in members of the Long-Arm Tribe.

_Personality:

Prima D. Louis' defining traits are his combative nature, his urge to challenge authority, and a desire to protect the weak from harm. Certainly not the most characterising features, though all make sense in context of his parents, upbringing, and the D. he has inherited - much more interesting is the way he acts around friends and acquaintances. As part Mink, he's collected some of their habits, namely the physically-friendly interactions of Minkship and his own desire for fruit, especially bananas; yet as part giant, he is extremely conscious of how fragile many smaller races are, and thus is forced to be cautious about any physicality by definition. This does not mean he will not attempt it, if he believes the individual will appreciate it, but it is rare that he can be as firm as he wishes to, a fact that pains him greatly and often leads to the feeling of separation, mistaken for aloofness by those who don't know him so well. And of course, being so huge, he's well aware of and well able to utilise his intimidating nature again the weak-willed if he sees fit.

Of course, his being part-orangutan Mink, he is inclined toward cheek in preference to menace. Whilst idle, he can often be seen balancing on his bo staff, hands, one hand, and even teasing nearby sea creatures if he happens to have any food on hand. Occasionally, he may find a means to prank a fellow crew member too, and when he succeeds, he gets a great deal of mirth out of the joke. One might characterise him as a loafer; though in his lax attitude remains a core of consistent focus on whatever task he's engaging in, whether or not folks know it. Indeed, this focus is what has let him be a good king to the Bandar-log even in his absence; when it comes to those in his care, he refuses to slack on his duties, even if he doesn't mind looking a bit silly in the process.

_Biography:

Prima D. Louis' parentage would be considered a little strange by most. His mother, known only as Martine, was a giant from a mysterious, yeti-like tribe, covered in white fur and twice as large as a typical giant; whilst his father, one Prima D. Armstrong, was a bold and enterprising orangutan Mink pirate with an adventurous streak and a thing for very large fur-covered women, making Martine just his type. Long story short, Prima D. Louis was born somewhere in the Grand Line, and thereafter the family emigrated into the South Blue as a form of "retirement".

Not that they were inactive. They remained engaged in piracy in their local area, but now it was to ensure their children's well-being. Louis' experience growing up involved a great deal of training to fight in the ways of both his heritages, learning grace and power from Martine, weaponplay and Electro from Armstrong, and the means to manage and control his Sulong state from both. Many a full moon night was spent where Martine had to wrestle him down, as he'd inexplicably grow in bulk along with the intense electrical power of the state; all the more necessary that he learn to control it rather than dying because he overexerted himself.

In the end, though, control it he did, not to mention learning much about the world and how to sail it. At the age of thirty, he bid his parents farewell, sending out on a decently-sized ship in search of adventure! A few islands passed him by, and few creatures of great interest came to him... until he stumbled upon an island called Bandar-log, an odd place whose level of technology seemed highly inconsistent, ranging from tribal huts and a lifestyle based largely on foraging, to incredibly advanced guns and medical technology. He'd learn from the human inhabitants that this was the work of the local Wise Foresters - apes who looked very much like his own father, but with a sense for technology that veered toward supergenius, so long as the mood struck them.

He learned, too, that the inhabitants both human and ape were regularly abducted from the island by the Marines and occasional pirate crews with the intent to use their technological prowess to enhance their own technology, or else to keep as slaves. Something about that, the injustice of these kidnappings and abuses, got Louis' goat very swiftly... the next Marine raid was quelled with intense prejudice by Louis alone, earning praise from the locals and a significant bounty from the Marines. Soon enough, he was taking the role of protector for them full-time, keeping out those who would try to use who he now viewed as "his people" - and eventually, when the current king of the human population passed with no heir, Louis was nominated to take on the position by just about all and sundry. He was promptly crowned as "King Louie", and used his position to negotiate a bit of leniency with the Marines when next they arrived, getting them to let up on their attacks in exchange for his sending any defeated pirate crews to the nearest Marine base. Even then, the deal left an unpleasant taste in his mouth: not only was he making deal with people who really didn't deserve the courtesy, in some cases pirates with no intent of raiding had been taken out by the defenses before he even got a chance to talk with them. The balance was hard to maintain.

Still, he kept up the good work for a long time, before one day a certain crew of pirates hundreds or thousands of members strong stumbled across his slice of land. Were he to simply try and fight them off, even he would likely have failed; yet his mere presence seemed to spark some interest in their captain Magdalena Amarant. If "height made right" as she claimed, then surely somebody as tall as him would be of immense value to the crew! And yet the corollary of that notion was he'd be leaving the Bandar-log unattended... he couldn't let them be attacked so readily. So he made a deal with her: if he joined her crew, she had to prove she'd be able to keep his people safe in his absence.

First, she'd take out the local Marine base, so that they couldn't be tempted to break his deal, and to convey whose protection the Bandar-log was under now publicly.

Second, she had to fight him one-to-one. If she couldn't win, then by all rights he was better off staying put. Naturally, though he was incredibly potent and put up a fight that lasted for twelve hours, it turned out she was ultimately the more dangerous warrior, besting him and securing his position on the crew. The ensuing Marine base raid was attended by Louie himself, and with how much devastation he wrought on them combined with an apparent breach of their deal, his bounty shot up to 100,000,000 Beri that very day.

Time would only lead to that bounty growing larger. The more he fought, the more obviously-threatening he became to the Marines, not least because he was in the majority of cases the most obvious threat around short of Amarant herself. This threat only grew more pronounced once he learned about Haki, trained to use his Haki, made it ever so much easier to spot foes coming through his Haki... and, ultimately, unlocked the third and rarest form of Haki known to the world, the Color of Conquerors. It seemed his nature as King of the Bandar-log was not merely coincidence, after all. Nonetheless, by the time of the Honorstar Garrison Raid, he'd gained a position as the Sea Reaver Pirates' leading Navigator, a role as one of Captain Magdalena's elite fighters, and a bounty in excess of three hundred million Beri.

The raid could not have gone worse. As ever, Louis took the brunt of firepower from them, which if it had been a more typical raid could have been withstood or evaded. But the backup and counterattack, followed by the captain's staunch refusal to retreat, led to far more damage dealt to Louis than he was used to handling. He was undoubtedly tough as Seastone, but even he had his limits; in the end, that limit came in the form of duelling several giants in sequence, the last of which ended with a double-KO. Down and out, Louis fell into the sea, washing away as the raid proceeded toward an inevitable loss...

Some time later, he awoke with the worst headache he'd ever had. By sheer luck, or perhaps the friendliness of some oceanic being or another, he'd been borne right back to where this journey had started: the Bandar-log, complete with loyal and ever-pleased subjects. But, he came to recognise as he recuperated there, they were no longer safe without him, for surely the Marines would see his apparent loss and come to take their toll on the Wise Foresters and humans alike once more. At the same time... it was bigger than just them, surely? If they were so imperiled that they needed external protection to survive, what other lands were threatened in the same way? And which had no guardian to keep them from institutional harm?

Thankfully, he could plan ahead for this. The Wise Foresters were typically difficult to direct toward any particular goal, their capabilities drawing on instinct and in-the-moment want more than learning or forethought; but with some concerted encouragement, he managed to persuade them to build three things for him: first, a polearm suited for his fighting style, the last one lost to battle damage and the waves so far as he knew. The second, built over a decent timeframe, a decoy: a huge robot matching his description, suited to fool anyone who might otherwise realise he was not there, and with proper piloting fend off modest intrusions if somebody wished to try their luck regardless. And third, a ship, suitable to bring him to where he imagined any survivors of the Raid would gather: Shelburgh, the Sea Reaver's town of origin.

These would all be necessary for what King Louie had planned. Of course, plenty of people returned to the Bandar-log to try and kidnap more of its people; and Louis fended the first few attacks off with gusto, just long enough to clue in that he was back and guarding the place. Then, once the decoy robot was finished and running, he bade his people farewell once more, and set out toward Shelburgh, hoping he'd not be the only person there after all.

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Combat Information

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_{Combat Role:}

Martial Artist

_{Haki Prowess:}

Observation: S

Armament: B

Conqueror's: C

_{Physical Capabilities:}

Louis is, of course, absurdly strong. Although he has only inherited some of his giant heritage's raw strength, his Mink heritage makes up for this and then some, letting him lift and throw huge amounts of weight around, as well as strike with enough force to flatten platoons of soldiers with the shockwaves alone.

This Mink side of his character also makes him far, far more agile than somebody his size ought to be - his dexterity is incredible, letting him pick up and write somewhat comfortably with even normal-sized pencils using the tips of his nails; he can dodge out of the way of many slower attacks with ape-like mobility; and he can clamber up tall objects readily, grip them for hours without falling if they support his weight, and balance on even the tips of his fingers and toes, not to mention a variety of other items that would otherwise be hard-pressed to maintain their center of mass.

Finally, whilst a somewhat smaller benefit, his sheer height, ability to climb to great heights reliably, and generally-good visual acuity gives him a great view of the horizon, letting him see much farther than most humans, and even some giants if he can get up high enough.

_{Fighting Style:}

One might call Louis something of a brawler - he's certainly not unskilled in a fight with either fists or his stave, and has his own style designed to take advantage of his highly prehensile feet, which he calls Way of the Four Fists, but his raw physical power is by far the more threatening aspect of his abilities, often enough to knock out foes in one hit. On top of this, he has substantial ability with Electro, the innate electrical martial art of the Mink Tribe, and more recently with Haki of all three types; this gives him even more destructive power, and in particular an unnerving capacity to predict and avoid incoming attacks despite his extreme size; in some cases, he's almost felt as if he's glimpsed the future for a brief moment.

_Equipment:

Ryūjin Ōban, roughly translates to "Dragon God Gold Plate", "Number King Dragon God" or "Greatest Dragon God": A massive bo staff made of an alloy of gold, silver and copper, combined together in a way that maximises all of the most important properties of the weapon: toughness and hardness, density, and electrical conductivity. With silver bands as handholds, this gives the 9 meter long staff a weight of 8000 kilograms, the toughness to withstand strikes from even Meito without harm even before use of Armament Haki, and the ability to conduct Electro with minimal loss of energy. One might argue that all this renders it a Grade weapon unto itself, though if it is, it has not been formally ranked as such to date. Nonetheless, it is terrifyingly effective in Louie's hands, a potent bludgeoning tool able to flatten or knock down huge swathes of foes, as well as serving as a climbing tool for him to balance on and further increase his impressive visual range.

_{Special Techniques:}

Great Ape Great Sandwich (a.k.a. Great Ape Old Man One-Two): Wherein Louie claps his palms together around an opponent, ideally squashing them between his hands. If that fails, the impact still creates a huge shockwave in front of him that can shatter granite and knock down a great number of lesser foes, possibly enhanced with Electro.

Foot-Fist Technique: Flipping into a handstand, Louis attacks with his feet, curling them into fists to mess with the muscle memory of his opponents.

Four Fists Cartwheel: With an acrobatic display, Louis engages in one or more cartwheels, striking at whoever he is dueling with each hand and foot in sequence whilst also gaining momentum and evasiveness from the movements.

Ape Escape: Technically a technique, in that it incentivises the use of his Observation Haki to avoid attacks whilst retreating to a better position.

Kong Krush: Grabbing an enemy in one or both hands, he purposefully squeezes them as hard as he can in an effort to either force the breath out of their body or break bones until they can't fight anymore, often using Armament Haki to enhance this effect.

Two-Pronged Ape Shock: Using the extreme reach of his staff, he strikes at an enemy with it in his back hand, at the same time striking at them with one foot, forcing them to try and block two simultaneous attacks at different heights. If either connects, the target is punished further with a burst of Electro. This tends to be most useful against foes of similar or larger size to him.

Shotgun Monkey: Smacking the base of his staff, he sends a burst of Electro and Haki through it, launching coherent orbs of electrical energy out the other side en masse to strike at a foe or group of foes, hitting them with both the electric shock and the force of his Armament Haki.

Secret Technique: Ape Out: Leaping into the air above his target, Louis imbues all four limbs with Armament Haki, before descending down on them in a barrage of frenzied punches, further empowered with Electro. The most powerful technique of his Way of the Four Fists, at least at the moment.

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Miscellaneous Information

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(Everything that isn't relevant for the other fields goes here. Theme songs, ideal voice actors/actresses, tidbits of trivia, etc.)

One Piece: The Sea Reaver Pirates Reborn

I might be interested. As it happens, I'm in a OP RP already, so we'll see how this works out.

Itiner: Heroes of Ardenfeld

Dame Niala Evenhand

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So Snowing Timber had chosen survival over pacifism. Then it seemed his weapons were not taken by choice, as hers were... as for Danyl? By the weapons in tow and the patch over one socket, it appeared he'd done much the same. Though if she recalled, hadn't he lost vision in that eye gradually anyway even before her departure? It couldn't be a pretty sight even now.

'I dare say, it is a pleasure to reacquaint with all and sundry,' she proclaimed, her earlier dourness lost again in a sea of gregariousness. 'If we've all sought our best selves, then surely it'll continue to be so-'

...hmm? Who...? Who was that? They looked... ill, almost, by the hair and the posture-

The horns spake devil. Her hand jolted reflexively, but stopped short of reaching for her blade as she recalled the nature of the tiefling: helltouched, but not necessarily hellions unto themselves. And her voice, or rather her mannerisms, seemed to indicate an unwillingness to fight. Forcing herself to relax, she stated with a smile 'I see no issue with it, madam. This is a public tavern, after all, it'd be strange if you weren't allowed access!'

You Can Become a Hero!

Iekami Kaoru

_______________________________________________ // INFO D A T A Full Name - Iekami Kaoru (家神薫) Hometown - Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture, Japan Quirk Type - Emitter Gender - Masc - // PERSONALITY P E R S O N A L I T Y Domineering Kaoru has this idea that the world rewards hard work and ability. He rather believes, then, that having put a huge amount of effort into developing his Quirk naturally makes him the best and most deserving person in the room to succeed! But, of course, he's also "magnanimous", and sees it as his right, nay his duty, to pursue the betterment of his fellows, such that they too can one day stand where he is, look back at their past, then point and laugh at how foolish they were. Reserved Partly thanks to how he has had to prosecute his arrogant nature, partly due to his parents' attitude, and partly from simply having a seemingly unimpressive Quirk for most of his life, Kaoru tends toward not making a big scene if he can help it. Generally, he'll be cool-headed and approach situations logically, but even when his emotions are up, it takes a lot to get him to express those emotions in a major way - an ironic contrast to how he sees himself as better. He might phrase it as humility, despite the distinct lack thereof. Lateral Thinker In terms of STEM-type smarts, Kaoru is fairly modest by IA's standards - good enough to get in, but not necessarily to stand out. On the other hand, his ability to think outside the box has been honed by years of association with certain individuals, and by a personal demand to render his Quirk into something practical for hero work. Consequently, he can quickly figure out ways to approach even high-stress situations, even though a solution might not be obvious to most.

Physical Description For his age, Kaoru is fairly tall. At 174 cm, he sticks out as looking almost like an older student, matched by a shock of pale blue hair grown out into luscious locks below his shoulders, and a fairly lean and well-built figure. Contrariwise, his casual outfits tend to be nondescript - simple dark tees and trousers, albeit accented with a bomber jacket in colder climates. Lastly, his eyes have a habit of flipping between purple and amber seemingly based on his body temperature, with lower temperatures leading to yellower eyes; this is purely a holdover from an ancestor's Quirk, with no effect on his current Quirk so far as he can tell. Personal History A great deal of Kaoru's life has been spent training. This was not necessarily intentional, mind you. As most children do, he idolised the Pro Heroes of the world, making a certain number of friends based on mutual appreciation of heroes like Big Booster and Hawks. Naturally, when at last Kaoru's own bubble-making Quirk arose (a holdover of his father's air-blowing Quirk and his mother's skin film Quirk), he was delighted! Not so much, however, as he quickly realised that aside from maybe getting soap in somebody's eyes, it was kind of useless for actually being a hero. Thus began an extremely unusual way of thinking for a child his age. A hyperfocus on what he could do, and what he could do to make it be more useful. To that end, he asked his mother Karin if he could take up martial arts! Surely that'd let him pull it off, and maybe even become a Pro Hero! "Oh... I'm sorry, honey, but I don't think your Quirk will be very good for being a hero..." Not that that stopped him from trying his five year old heart out. More friends were made at his new jujutsu and aikido classes, and after a special request was made, he also received extra training from a private tutor in karate, who went even further as to teach him more about his Quirk through internalising the lessons of kokoro, rei, and aiki - contextually attitude, courtesy, and will, and more specifically the will to combine one's energy with an opponent's not to ensure a mutual kill, but to overcome and redirect their energy to guarantee victory without injury. Each victory in this respect was subtly denigrated. An effort to keep him humble - but in practice, moulding him unerringly toward the way of will rather than truly benefiting from a positive attitude. He started to grow snide, proceeding in his education moreso for his physical betterment than anything else. He began driving away his friends as he started to put himself above them. In private, he even made the claim to his mother that he'd be a Pro Hero with or without a Quirk! "That's quite enough, dear! You need to stop pressing toward this nonsense; how do you expect to save people with your power when you can't even keep yourself safe with it?" Again she put him down by trying to keep his ideals realistic. And as for his father, Kuuya? "Son, sometimes there are things people just can't do- and that's okay. You can't judge a turtle for not leaping up a waterfall and turning into a dragon, after all." To hell with his defeatist parents, then! If he had to leap up a waterfall and become a dragon to become a hero, he'd damn well do it! But that necessitated being able to make that leap to begin with - and they were right: bubbles alone did not a Hero make. Another bout of highly unusual behaviour spawned from this. To solve a seemingly-intractable problem, he had to think around the problem's individual components. He could make bubbles. They had air in them, of course, but that seemed kind of incidental. So what about the bubble itself, the "film" part of the Quirk? How could he weaponise that? What could he do to make what was basically just soap into a weapon? Eventually, at the age of eleven, that notion clicked in his mind. It wasn't just soap - it was soaps. Once that realisation had come, developing his powers became a hell of a lot easier. He had something to work with; soaps to research, ways to produce soap that wasn't bubbles, and eventually the production of other fluids to clean with: shampoo! Lye! Bleach! "Oh my God! Kaoru, what happened to your hands?!" As it turns out, both lye and bleach are rather corrosive substances, and his first try at making them demanded rather serious medical attention to keep the skin of his hands from completely dissolving. Best to avoid them unless he couldn't help it, then. All this time, he'd been steadily degrading in other areas. By the time he got out of hospital after that incident, he'd grown to realise his last "friend" really didn't see fit to associate with him anymore, and whilst he'd attained black belts in his martial arts, the group teachers eventually saw fit to bar him from further education, on the basis that he was upsetting his fellows and, in the end, didn't really understand what they were teaching him. Then bah; they could rot for all he cared. He'd spent all this time making his Quirk into something he could use, ensuring his martial arts and physique were finely tuned, then so what if they didn't want the same for him or themselves? He'd join an academy, show off his skills, and then he'd meet people who agreed with the way he saw things, and perhaps even educate some of them on what they needed to do to become as great as him. It'd be tough, sure, but if he could turn bubbles into a useful ability, what couldn't he do? Character Arc Kaoru's character development will likely be similar to that of Mirio's from canon - or rather, his power development will likely follow a similar pattern. Initially, his Quirk was ineffective in a fight, and whilst he has made progress toward its improvement, it still has a very long way to go to reach its maximum potential. Furthermore, Kaoru himself is rather the embodiment of an arrogant kung fu guy: whilst not trained in kung fu, he has received education in various other Japanese martial arts, and he's very well aware of how far he's come from when he first started, all hidden by a veneer of civility that may make it hard to see the smugness beneath it. Most likely, he'll wind up receiving lessons on notions such as "being kind to one's peers instead of nice", "not thinking oneself the most capable person around even in areas one has no experience in", and "no, you cannot beat anybody and everybody with skill alone, there genuinely are people who are better than you in every way, and by a wide margin at that". Though depending on how the plot progresses, these lessons may take some time to internalise... to that end, genuine friendships not based on his being subtly pushy about how they act and how they use their Quirk will probably help him a great deal. Quirk Description Once upon a time, Kaoru's Quirk might have been easily mistaken as merely the generation of bubbles. But with time, practice, and a great deal of consideration, Super Soaper proves to be far more effective than just this: its nature is the generation out of his skin of soaps, shampoos, and other such cleaning products, a disproportionately-broad spectrum of substances with the general properties of being slippery and germ-washing-away assisted largely by a strong knowledge of the associated materials and chemicals present. In practice, the actual versatility comes with how he uses it: one of the most obvious uses is to cover an opponent in soap and reduce their friction, making it much harder for them to move around. He is not nearly so hindered by this issue thanks to a great deal of practice, allowing him to slide around on his own soap trail with immense speed compared to the average person. Additionally, one would be surprised how hard it is to concentrate or, well, see clearly with soap in one's eyes, not to mention the effects it can have on sensitive equipment such as firearms or electronics. At its most extreme, he can even produce rather more dangerous substances to inflict direct damage - lye or bleach come to mind, though as he lacks direct resistance to their effects, even producing them could cause him just as much harm as his target. More subtly, he could also damage his skin or hair follicles over time by producing too much of the wrong type of soap or shampoo; to wit, the stuff he uses to wash his hair every morning is a particular formulation designed to avoid precisely this. Whilst lack of specific resistance is merely a limitation, his true weakness comes with the fact that all of his substances work best at a rather specific moisture level: if it is too dry, say due to an extreme rise or fall of temperature, his soap will film up and stop being slippery or pop any bubbles he makes before they can perform their function properly; and whilst some additional wetness could make the soap even more slippery, too much extra liquidity will dilute it beyond usefulness, if it isn't simply washed away outright.

Itiner: Heroes of Ardenfeld

Dame Niala Evenhand

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She chuckled as Nathaniel took some time to recognise her, followed by a joke about her height. 'Well, time does leave its mark, after all,' she'd respond, not long before another individual entered... yet again, cat features gave away his identity. Though they were far more stern-jawed than as a younger boy, there was no mistaking Snowing Timber for anyone else in that village, a lovely sight to behold in any respect. And speaking of time, well...

'You can say that again,' she replied, her tone suddenly far less jovial. 'I assure you, I know exactly what I am fighting for; Tyr's blessing standing, I shall see my oaths to Him fulfilled.' She couldn't afford to let those who had wronged Ardenfeld escape without justice brought to them, of course. Though, if either of these men were anything like her, there was a good chance they would be brought down even if she were to pass unkindly into Tyr's arms.

Itiner: Heroes of Ardenfeld

Dame Niala Evenhand

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Niala entered the Lying Wolverine not long after Nathaniel, fully clad in plate mail save a helmet; right, in fact, as he pulled back his hood and revealed his ears, and thereby his identity to all who might recognise them. Certainly, the shopkeeper was an interesting character in herself - Prelissa, if she presumed correctly, the innkeeper's daughter, though from his absence now seemingly just the innkeeper - but the instances where Niala had had time to interact with her were relatively few. Her own father's materials were often traded for here, though she was rarely taken along on such expeditions.

Maybe she would have come more often later in life, if he hadn't been slaughtered.

But there was no mistaking the characteristic cat ears of Nathaniel Brightwood for anything else than his signature. Smiling, she strode up to him with full intent to catch his attention, uttering boldly once she had his ear 'Well, if I weren't already counting my blessings! It has been a while, hasn't it, Nathaniel?'

Thornwood Asylum For The Criminal Insane- A Villain Roleplay. (Closed Indefinitely)

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Brock

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Hemlock - Red - Represented in Teal, Rueyn - Siri - Represented in Orange, Brock - BCLEGENDS - Represented in Plum

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Rue walked through the inky shadows that covered the building and walked into the layer of blackness, Hemlock’s fingers firmly laced in hers. Anyone who was watching them would have seen them just disappear into darkness, fading away with a few blinks, shortly before the lights went out and all was plunged further into chaos.

It isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as Rueyn had implied. Yes, all he could focus on is the crimson nebula of light whom he held hands with. Here it seemed much so. Like they were in the depths of the vacuum of space, and she had grown into a far more expansive blackhole. Though there is a familiarity to it, a disconnect from his own physical body that he had grown accustomed to as Digital Ghost. It felt familiar, as familiar as traveling through a network of circuitry.

Despite this moment of reprieve, he suppose is what he would call it - sighing to himself mentally. As much as he’d like to consider himself as heartless as the rest of them, He wasn’t there at the cafeteria today. And he usually is always there. Spewing nonsense. Well, that’s not fair. A majority of it in reality is just spider facts, yet it is Froth who chose him to speak with. Hemlock didn’t do much talking, then again he never was able to get in a word edgewise when it came to Froth anyway.

“Rue,” he finally calls out, “I need another favor. I apologize that I keep asking for these.”

“Welcome to the realm of shadow,” her voice had a dark and echoing, ringing quality to it that had not been there before. “My ability to even reenter this realm in order to do whatever you and I may need has been restored because of you, stop apologizing. If it makes you feel better, consider it your apology for asking favors of me at the moment.”

She surveyed the shadowy realm around her with glowing eyes.

“Ask away.”

“There is an inmate, who wasn’t at the cafeteria,” Hemlock pauses, “He likely has no idea about the riots, and as much as I am sure he is capable by himself, he hasn’t the faintest idea on how to navigate the facility. And capable doesn’t account for endurance.”

That and well, he’s a bit naive. Perhaps, some of that innocence has rubbed away. The edges began to rub raw, yet he doubted he had the mental endurance for the task as well. Again, as much as he’d like to think he is as heartless as the rest - he doubted that Froth could make it on his own and find the entrance. And unfortunately he had to admit, he’d miss being spewed spider facts.

“Lead the way, then. Direct me.”

Hemlock hesitates. He didn’t bother to look up his cell when he was in the security room. It hadn’t crossed his mind then, “I can navigate the facility, but I don’t know specifically where he is.” He should have thought ahead.

“Goddess above,” Rue muttered a swear in Latin then sighed. “If it would help, I can bring us into the spirit realm. Your ability is EMF based, yes? Souls emit EMF, if you can lock onto him that way, we could navigate it much easier, especially if his soul appears the same colors to you as it does me.”

“Wir sprechen jetzt in anderen sprachen" he responds with a smirk towards her cursing, “Ya draznyu.” Right. Where was he? English. English. Spirit Realm? “I can see spirits, yes, well the EMFs they admit. I used to never mind that’s not important. I know what his signature is like, it’s the color of Froth. It is “purple”, but not really purple, just perceived as purple and then there are little bits of EMFs that pop and fizzle from time to time.” If that made any sense, probably most likely to her.

Rue rolled her eyes at his teasing her in German and began the process of rapidly going intangible and shifting their souls and bodies into the spirit realm, the darkness around them fading away to be replaced by a hazy, muted version of the world around them, everything outside of the spirit realm seeming to move slightly slowly and with a faded trail of movement. To Hemlock, it might feel as if he was stepping from the forest and into a foggy clearing.

“Alright, then, what general direction should I be heading from here?”

The Spirit Realm? In all of his years of study - well this is fantastic. So fantastic that he has completely lost himself to the sounds of the disembodied static voices he could barely make out. The dead murmurs. Flickers of light appeared here and there, “I had been studying spirits, and the spirit realm.” he says excitedly, “I used to investigate ghosts, and equipment in fact.” Right. He’s supposed to be looking for Brock in the facility. He’d love to stay here, study it, record it, but they had an escape to continue escaping. Searching. Scanning. Closing his eyes and attempting to tap into the map of the facility in his head while using the flickering of energy.

“West wing,” he points, “In the middle cell. There are others there. The riot has begun. Guards. Inmates. Most likely.”

“I’ve been around them since I was born,” she replied. “I understand them in a different way than you do, I understand what ties them here long after their bodies have given way. I feel their calls when their physical forms give out, are destroyed. I lead them to their peace if I can. It’s my duty as a Reaper.”

She took his words in and led them in the direction of the west wing, making note of the hallway and each exit. Of the rusty, brownish facility, seemingly constructed out of one giant square shape, and noting that there was only one way in and out of the facility. At least, for those who couldn’t travel the way she could.

She saw bodies of guards and inmates alike strewn on the floor, could feel the many souls that now screamed in anger and fear, tormented by the idea of forever being trapped here in this hellhole of an excuse for a building.

Rue made a note to take as many as she could to where they needed if she could. Perhaps after the breakout, after she was finally home, perhaps she could come back in spirit form to help them. She hated their suffering tugging at her own soul but shook such thoughts from her mind and stopped when she saw him.

Ahead was a tall, massive, man about eight feet tall with bulging muscles currently ragdolling guards and inmates alike as if they were made out of sacks of flour. Rue gave a rumbly demonic purr at the sight of the one who was responsible for all of the carnage, forgetting the agony of the spirits trapped behind, claws itching for a challenge now that those godsforsaken cuffs were off.

Sticking a head out, just like Hemlock described, is a man who pops up. Idiot, the large man notices the purple popping man sticking his head out of his cell. The large man takes his massive paw size hand and grabs the collar of the young man’s shirt, dragging him up.

“Eh heh, gonna snap you like a twig, and the rest of you,” he challenged, pointing to Rueyn, who responded with an excited growl, a wild, manic grin under her mask.

Seee… he had heard the initial noise of people fighting, eventually the noise dying down, and he’d decided to just spend a bit of time in his cell. He had lunch, he wasn’t about to go anywhere. Which was a shame, because he’d wanted to talk to Lock today… apparently, today wasn’t that kind of day. The cell doors opened up, and then he’d heard somebody rampaging out in the hall, and just as it started growing quiet he’d decided to stick his head out and check if the coast was clear. First thing he saw, the real big guy on this cell block.

Second thing, the same guy’s hand lifting him off the ground, which he reacted to initially with a rapid punch to the head! To no effect, because he could hit pretty hard, but not hard enough to take down an actual human tank.

Third thing was Lock, with that one demon lady Ruin or whoever. Rune, Ruin? Now that did put a smile on his face!

“Hey, Lock!” he called out, grinning widely. “Nice to see you! Didn’t think I’d get the chance-”

“Oi! this is no friendly reunion, we ain’t meetin’ up at some damn high scool,” Mammoth interjects.

“Well I mean yeah,” Brock continued, “but like, I wanted to see him today, and then I didn’t get to yet, but now we-”

“Are you his boyfriend or somethin’?” Mammoth interrupts again and barks.

“I’d like to mention that in this current social structure, that may not necessarily be an acceptable comment to make. With that said, I understand the usage is meant to degrade someone. Hmm, right, Brock we’ve apparently come to rescue you it seems,” it takes a lot of effort to project his voice in a hall like this, he’s not the loudest speaker.

“Oh! Yaaay! Er, from him,” he asked, tilting his head over at the big guy, “or in a more general sense, like from the loud fighting stuff that’s happening?”

“Both,” Hemlock has reserved to looking at a spot in the hallway, instead of attempting to look at anyone, yet he awkwardly moves his head towards Rueyn, “Should we interv-
-and she’s already charging ahead. He'll let her do her thing then.

Rue’s instincts were singing with battle-lust as she crouched like a large cat before launching herself at the large man. She closed the distance between them in a single breath, punching him in the stomach with great force and grabbing the wrist that currently held Brock.

Doubling back Mammoth from being punched into the gut, his grip on the young man loosening, feeling her massive grip,tis witch is crazy got ah a bloodlusty look in her eye didn’t she? Tugging his wrist back, not to escape from her grip, but to pull himself slightly back, grounding his heels into the floor, using his stance to spring forward using her strength like a rubber band to push Brock into Rueyn.

Rue caught the young man with her other arm with ease and narrowed her eyes, as the force of doing so knocked her mask from her face, revealing the skeletal bone structure of her lower face, staring from the tip of her nose to the bottom of her jaw, smoky black mist covering the spaces between her teeth as well as the inside of her mouth from view. She growled and tossed Brock over her hip like she used to toss her daughter when they were playing, a move that allowed the smaller being to simply somersault without harm.

Rue grabbed Mammoth’s other wrist and wrenched both of his arms down towards her hips to unbalance him, her knee coming up into his stomach as he fell forward, trying to wind him so she could take him out and neutralize but not necessarily kill him. As far as she knew, he’d mistaken Brock for another threat, and therefore punishing him with death wasn't fair to her. She’d rather kick his ass out cold or injure him badly enough to leave him there.

Being bent forward his eyes widen a crooked grin on his face. Rolling himself over her knee he stands on his hands wrapping his large thighs around her neck yanking her forward to throw her to the ground.

“Aye, likely wasn’t expecting that, me muscles ain’t just for show,” Mammoth gloats, turning his head to the other man down the hall, “Oi. Bonsey. Skeletor?” he notices the man frowns, “Okay. Okay. That ain’t so funny. Get her off of me. I can help ya out.”

Rue laughs when he wraps his thighs around her neck, and simply melts into the shadow realm, avoiding being thrown to the ground, the large man dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes with a resounding smack of a body on concrete.

“Wut in the bloody fuck! I don’t want to be fuckin’ posessed!” Mammoth shouts in surprise, “I am gettin’ out of here!” He had other plans anyway. Thinking of his next big heist, couldn’t do that if he was going to get possessed. He begins to run down the hall, breaking through the wall into the next level of prison cells. Does he know he’s going to simply be running through the underground?

“Well, that was both unexpected, and bothersome,” Hemlock mentions, “But it sounds like we have a way out.” he gives a dry laugh, “Brock, are you well?”

Rue reappeared, laughing her ass off at the sight of a massive man running away and through an entire wall in fear of being possessed, a power she didn’t even have.

“Holy shit,” she cackled, retrieving her mask from where it had skittered to a stop near the badly mutilated corpse of an inmate, the man’s angry spirit sulking nearby. “Did you hear him? Practically ran for the hills crying for his momma.” She slipped her mask back on after wiping away the blood and grime that had gathered on it before returning to where Brock and Hemlock were, looking over both of them for any potential injuries.

“I did not hurt you when I tossed you out of the way, did I?” she asked, her voice flat but curious. “It was to prevent you from gaining any harm done to you.”

“Well,” Brock began, rolling over and off his front where he’d been chucked like a bag in a car tumbling over itself, “I’ve been kind of figuring out what to do after that, just like waiting until the big guy was gone, and I think I bit my tongue too. I’m fine otherwise though. It’s good to see you, Lock,” he added with a smile. Lock was great, brilliant to chat with.

He takes a second to “look” at Brock. He wouldn’t say Brock is his favorite person in the world, though that comes off cold. He’s merely used to being on his own, small talk and it’s otherwise underused substantial talk were not his usual interest. Most of the time talking to Brock involved Hemlock doing a lot of listening, he preferred it, simply he preferred also not to be talked to. Still, Brock deserved a chance of escape.

“There’s currently an escape plan happening at the moment, you weren’t at the cafeteria to be filled in with the details. I had Rueyn take us here in order to guide you towards the exit,” he shifts to the matter at hand, “It’s good to hear though that you have not become a splatter on the walls.” he attempts a weak smile.

So many people today. So many personalities to juggle. Brock usually had a relatively young mentality and it seemed Rueyn might be a bit over enthusiastic. Not everyone is aware of every ability he had, which is how he preferred it anyway. Likely he could coast through this riot, as the hacking, meek, blind man. For as long as people believed it. Something about being defined as such brought him back to the days of being a runaway teenager, who got a hold of people’s bank accounts being lost and blind and “scared”. They would give him their phones so he could call someone, what he really did was tap into their phones to take their money. Countless of accounts that he would take small sums of money from. He could continually dip into. Unless they noticed something and closed their accounts. Though easy to trace them, when he had their name and addresses. He used to have them stored on a file. Not the time to have introspection of the past, however.

If people wanted to see him as small. And fragile. He’d let them for now. It worked on the guards for so long. It’s the only reason he’s out here and not in that Faraday Cage. They thought he was incapable. They thought he was one of the “good prisoners”. So they let him get away with things they shouldn’t have, their facility, partially his now because of their miscalculation.

“Oh, awesome, an escape plan. And yeah, it’s good not to be a splatter!” Brock agreed, cracking his knuckles. “I don’t want to end up with my insides turned to goo… I mean, I know I’ve said this to you before Lock, but not to Miss Ruin- Rune? Whichever, so fun fact, did you know that the initial bite a spider does on prey isn’t generally what turns their insides to mush?” He sat up so he could explain better, his arms waving around a bit as he did. “See, when they want to feed, they inject digestive enzymes into the dead creature, and those are what fully dissolve their guts and stuff so that the spider can suck them up and toss the husk away. I don’t need to do that, obviously, because uh, I have my stomach that works fine, and I don’t want to puke on my food and suck that up either. We have saliva with enzymes in it also. Are you spitting on all of your food before putting it in your mouth? I didn’t think so.” He folded his arms, nodding to himself. It was weird, he’d never thought about it until that one doctor guy brought it up years ago.

“Speaking of, that’s some crazy jaw stuff you have there, Rune,” he pointed out, tilting his head curiously. “How’d that happen? Did they melt part of your face when they captured you? Was it an acid attack? Oh, I hope not, that’d be painful… or is it just like how your face is?”

“Good to know you are alright for the most part,” Rue rumbled in reply. “I knew they didn’t inject their prey with it immediately but I didn’t know the rest, to be honest.”

“The name is Rueyn,” she rumbled, a growl of annoyance in the undertones of her voice at Brock’s misnaming of her. “As in, ‘Don’t touch my mask or I’ll ruin your chances of being able to hold a spoon by yourself when I break your fingers.”

She wasn’t trying to be mean just to be mean, but she was edgy, ready to get the fuck out of the hellhole she had endured for the last two decades and two years and had no patience for stupid shit at the moment. She quirked a pierced red eyebrow at Brock when he mentioned some “crazy jaw stuff” going on with her face, asking if she had been disfigured somehow or if it was just her face.

He’s fucking lucky he didn’t run away screaming in horror, unlike the rest of these fuckers. He lives only because I don’t want to waste time, and also because I owe Lock for freeing my powers.

“No. I’m not disfigured, not in the way you mean,” she couldn’t help the small growl in her reply, forever reminded that she was a monster to everyone, even other people who would be considered monsters as well. “I was born with my lower face exposed like this, it’s a common feature for my race. You’re one of the very few who hasn’t ran away screaming in terror upon seeing it, though, so I’ll let the unintended rudeness slide.”

She rumbled again, grouchy and wanting to get on with the escape that they were currently in the midst of.

“We can discuss the many ways my body and limbs have been disfigured over my extensively long life, later,” the perpetual raspy and growl voice that had earned her the fear of many an inmate and guard alike was back for the moment, the Reaper was done playing around.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here before I get pissy and start ripping limbs from bodies indiscriminately.”

“Oh- shit, I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized, stiffening up slightly. “I wasn’t meaning to insult you. I just was looking at the jaw, because it was cool, right? And like, because with spiders, they have the fangs, right? The reason for that is that most insects and arthropods don’t have endoskeletons- spiders do, they’re just collagen and some hard plates though, no bones- but they have exoskeletons, and those are made of chitin. So, they’re difficult to break through at that size,” he explained, his arms no longer stiff as they moved around in explanation - though wherever they were going, he’d make sure to follow on from them accordingly as he spoke. “But, because of how focusing pressure at a very small point works, it’s actually a lot easier to pierce through chitin, and so you get a very large number of insects and arachnids with piercing-

“Oh! I forgot to thank you for coming to grab me from out of here!” he realized with a shock. Crap, he did need to do that! “It’s rude of me not to say thanks, so thanks Rueyn for getting the big guy off of me, and I assume it was Hemlock who said to come get me, so thank you Hemlock for doing that- You uh, I mean I hope it’s not too much bother, coming to get me that is. I know it winds up being a bit of a detour, since… I don’t even know what’s actually going on. Could you explain, Lock? Because, because, I assume there’s a riot or something happening, but I don’t actually know what the deal is, I’ve just been hiding out in my cell until you showed up.”

Truth is that he’s drowned them both out. Attempting to navigate with the information that he has received from the security camera. It would be easier to navigate with a full scope of the place though, main control room? It’s dawned on him that Brock has asked him a question. Should he bother to answer? The answer seems relatively obvious to him.

“We’re escaping, follow or don’t Brock,” Lock tells them both, though the statement is for Rueyn just as much as it’s for Brock.

Starting to lead by walking forward navigating the prison is more like a sense for him. He’s not really seeing the facility. Only sensing the layout. The one plugged into his mind.

Perhaps that came off too harsh, “I am heading to the main control room. To seize the entire facility, not just the security system. I’ll have full control of the lights, the generators, the cells, and so on and so forth. This is child’s play, I have done it before, and their system is not my system, so it’s nowhere nearly as secure. I have seen multiple points of structural weakness within their network.”

He smirks. You’ve done this to yourselves. Keeping them locked up like flightless birds. He had a surprise for them.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Alina Sanford

Well... she'd lived.

And then remained quiet, doing as told by this Spindle lady. She'd run out of energy to really question the events of today, so she dutifully ate and drank as instructed... and, to be honest, she did feel a bit better. Her ankle wasn't hurting so much anymore- or, eventually, at all. From the sound of it, she kind of had to be in good condition, too - sooner or later, something would come for her. Maybe it'd be her own worst self. Maybe it'd be somebody else's, the Warlords in question. And gee, what a name for the leaders of such a combative place... like the leaders of raider tribes back in Antiquity, but worse in that their mere existence made others do as they did, in both the real world and Metaverse.

Go figure.

Soon, they had to go. Even here wasn't going to be safe forever. As they travelled onward, and in "the trenches" representing everyone's struggles, unheard by one another, Alina wondered what her own nemesis would be. Would some part of her psyche come crawling out of her and devour her alive? Or would her worst self be dragged into full view by that of somebody else? Somebody she knew? But who?

Heh... hypocrite that she was, so focused on herself when the police girl had just explained the Metaverse's state was precisely because of that. She'd never be able to help the way Spindle wanted. She wasn't cut out for it, and the thought almost put a smile on her face. She really was a coward, huh.

But, they found their way through to an apartment building. And, well, the end sentiment that Barney relayed was exactly right. This was creepy. Were these other peoples' shadows, then? Their feelings in real life? Could... could she help them, somehow? But how? It wasn't like she could grab them, could she?

Especially not the children. Not when they were throwing a tantrum, and... oh, good. Something else she couldn't help with. Was that it, then, that was her role here right now? Hide behind the people who could do things? Great.

'Please don't let me die.'

Useless of her. Still, she stepped back for that; Barney's wheel-thing would probably do fine for now.