Everything is AI because plagiarism is profitable and because people think we’re in a dark age where skills like art and writing haven’t been democratized to hell and back for decades already
4
likes
5 mos ago
Shoutout to all the gay mfs for being remembered by corporate America for a month
6
likes
5 mos ago
i forgot like half of you until you existed on my profile again lmao. you know what we have dms for this sorry mods
3
likes
Bio
I invented necromancy and the windmill. I beat the sun in a poker match during the summer of 1273 and God hasn't felt the same since.
I’m fine either way, I wrote down potential stats for a character as well as a concept of moves but I’m okay without them. If it brings in more players maybe dropping the stats would be beneficial.
Also, do you plan on making a discord any time soon? We could probably discuss things easier in a server.
The warm morning sun had been sorely missed in many seasons. The clear, lovely sky of a new day never dulled in Caesonia. Another day of sun and calm winds. This, however, would not be so typical a day for the royalty.
A woman on horseback made a long and winding journey to this kingdom, weeks had passed since she set out from old Baltyria. Through rain, snow and the turning of the seasons, the castle of Sorian finally stood in the distance out from the rocks and trees. The horse she rode was adorned with dark brown fur and the occasional fleck of beige-white. The saddle was not cheaply made; Cream-tinted leather sewn with red trim and silver metals decorated the beast. He trotted along the main road to the Sorian proper with confidence. The woman who he carried was no less decorated, wearing a militant uniform of red and white. There were medals and badges of honor sewn into the front, rose-tinted metal cuffed the ends of her sleeves and the buttons of her uniform. She wore boots high to her knees made of black leather that looked old, but very well-loved. At her hip rested a scabbard equally adorned; Silver plates with lines of red and stark white, surrounding a worn emblem of a kingdom, or perhaps a house, that one would be hard-pressed to identify. The hilt of the sword was curious, aesthetically speaking. Sharp points of solid metal led to shaped, ornamental roses acting as a guard and pommel.
Her hair swayed faintly in the calm breeze, and she eyed the distant buildings with a curious, quizzical expression, like she could discern a dozen truths about the kingdom from the very architecture it consisted of. Her head was raised in confidence, or even familiarity with the kingdom itself. This was not a woman to be doubted. The kingdom drew closer as she patiently nudged her steed along with little more than a single syllable, and soon enough, beyond the gates they were. Her stature, and the air of confidence gave the guards little pause. They took her for the official type of visitor. She inquired at the gates about locations, and found one of the more respectable stables for her companion.
Major General Lyra Carris left her distinguished steed to rest after a long journey and continued on foot. The three-inch heels of her boots clacked against the stones of the roads and sidewalks she crossed. The sword at her side and the uniform on her body meant that people were quick to not walk in front of her and clear the path. Though she looked intimidating, her expression showed no signs of hostility. The general was, in every sense of the word, a stranger to this place. Rumors would no doubt spread before long, but they would be only just that. She was hungry.
Soon after, she found herself at a breakfast bar. To say she stood out was an understatement. A military general dressed in the colors of a place that were not the colors of this place, with an equally strange weapon hanging off of her side. She paid for a meal with the typical Caesonian gold currency, leaving a generous tip as she ate her breakfast in peace. Seven frosted pancakes ringed with fresh berries and syrup. It was good, especially after the long trip she has arrived from. While General Carris enjoyed her food, she took in the scenery, listening to the gossip that occasionally passed through the place while intentionally paying little attention to what stares or whispers by be about her presence.
She, of course, had her own itinerary to keep to, but for the time being, what harm could come from enjoying the atmosphere?
In four months of being trained and drove into the proverbial dirt by wolves, Darius' hardass brother, and the entire world turned Isolde into what passed in her books as a badass. Physically being worked to the bone by military-level training was a slog unlike anything else, learning about Avalia was draining, and being pestered by the occasional furry that snuck past the no-crossing line was awkward, but, god damn, did Isolde feel nothing short of alive as a result. She gained a few pounds over the months, but they were pounds of muscle from the exercise, and more importantly, she gained a very useful knowledge of lightning magic that she got rather intimately acquainted with. Between the humidity and the overall mugginess of being in a forest, Guarav was actually a nice place in her opinion. She didn't seem to mind when she was developing the attitude she was. Of course, being shoehorned into the training was annoying at first. Isolde could appreciate someone trying to train people, but she wasn't a soldier like Dante, let alone his lackey. Still, she stuck with it because it lit a fire inside of her, ironically enough, that made her want to push herself. The others were nice company. Mostly Darius and Aidan. Darius had a similar mindset to her, they both just let things come as they went, and Aidan? God damn. She just got it. Dante meant well, but he was nothing short of the hardest hardass she ever met, and Aidan knew it too. The two female members of the Goon Squad had little trouble connecting and kicking back when they weren't being slowly killed by the training. Their individual mindsets towards freedom and authority made them natural friends in this environment. Menzai was odd one out for her. He was always distant and objective enough that he didn't seem to ever fit in despite his thinly veiled curiosity regarding humans. Isolde never had any difficulty getting worldly information out of him, though. He was a big help in finding their ways in the world, and for that, she respected him.
The best part of it all, though? The lightning. The power in it.
Isolde needed only to twitch her fingers, only to reach into the open air and sparks would erupt in a brilliant fulmination of magical energy. Teal blue tines of forking plasma that were an extension of her own willpower moved through the air, snaking out to lash out in a grasp for conductivity. And she would reel it back in as easily as she had brought it forth. It was exhilarating, and only compounded the satisfaction that Isolde gained from the last four months of training. In this time, she spent a great deal of money on things ranging from more Avalian-like clothing and the usual self-care products to a horse and arms. A brown and white horse named Miri, who she bonded with rather swiftly. Her weapons were a simple dagger used in times of emergency, and more overtly, a spear composed of solid, magically treated cobalt. The head of the spear ended in a blue-tinted, convex blade no longer than Isolde's hand. It had weight to it, but it was hers, and by now it felt natural to wield. This spear was her main weapon, which she had been teaching herself to use in tandem with her magic, since cobalt was one of the most conductive metals that could be used to forge a weapon with. Silver was objectively the most conductive metal known to man, but Isolde's knowledge of Avalian metal was limited.
The day was approaching fast when they would be finished with their training, and it looked like the others were already gathering. Menzai, Aidan, and Darius. They were all three just as badass as she had become in their own rights. All three of them had ways their magics could be paired for more nuanced affects. Seeing everything come together this way was something they all deserved to be proud of. Earth never gave her this kind of life. Isolde felt more like herself now than she ever did before the rift opened under her feet, and she loved it. Having moved through Guarav to the meeting spot on Miri's back, Isolde looked just as different as she had become. Her earth-bound clothes long gone, she was dressed like the wizard she was. With her spear across her lap, the atmosphere she gave off said, "I am ready." "Your brother too busy dreaming about giving us work to get her on time?" That was very obviously a joke, one they all could relate too. Isolde slid off the horse's back with her spear. Isolde's grip flexed around the weapon as sparks danced into the air, scattering with faint traces of turquoise light. This had become second nature to her, it was in her blood and flowed through her like breath and life itself.
Isolde radiated confidence now, with an unflinching, upturned expression that the group hadn't seen until recently.
"There is nothing in this world that will last forever. No matter how hard you cling to sand, it will soon slip through your fingers all the same. Remember that before you hurt yourself instead of letting go."
Name:
Carla Blackburn
Alias:
Rosenred
Nicknames:
None
Age:
23
Gender:
Female - She|Her
Personality:
A roguish and witty villain with an affinity for living life one risk at a time, Rosenred is always composed and seemingly dignified in the way she behaves. As one of Redline's less formidable villains, she rarely shows any outward signs of caution or regard for the rules of the "game" that heroes and villains play by. She never misses a beat when it comes to thinking on her feet and surprising the good guys with a masterclass in cape tactics that shows she had a trick up her sleeve all along. In Rosenred's eyes, combat between parahumans is like a game of chess; There's no such thing as thinking too many steps ahead of your opponent. Being a sly strategist on the battlefield plays fittingly into her confidence. Rosenred always has her head held high, thinking herself to be a match for anyone she faces in the criminal underworld as well as the world of heroes. If anyone could see the smug smile on her face below the mask, it would be the kind that one has when they're watching you walk into a door that says "open" on it. It is often difficult to tell whether Rosenred is ignoring you, or if she is picking your every move apart like a book, and she finds amusement in people who can't tell which is which.
When she isn't playing games with someone, Rosenred demonstrates very well practiced manners and social tact. There is never a time when she is crudely insulting or neglecting the honor among thieves that she believes in. There are some villains who play by no rules except for their own, society and heroic vigilance be damned. There are others who follow a strict code of morals that they allow to dictate their actions; Rosenred is both. Her "code" has only a few loose tenets, but she lives by them strictly. First and foremost, she refuses to take a life unless it is absolutely the only way to resolve a conflict, violence is not the solution to violence. Second, when another cape goes out of their way to assist her, she will do her best to repay them when she is able. Finally, whenever she engages in her criminal escapades, she will work to involve innocents as little as possible, either by incapacitating them or simply remaining undetected. These rules may seem like a tactical strategy all on their own, as they have their own benefits in the cape world, but aside from the smart nature of her code, Rosenred follows it because it matters to her. She genuinely does not enjoy killing others, she genuinely in repaying favors and finds no reason to needlessly expose the public to her crimes.
Despite being a villain, Rosenred seems to hold high admiration for her sworn enemies on both sides of the "game." In times of crisis, where truces are called, Rosenred steps up and extends trust as soon as possible and attempts to be as kind to the heroes as she possibly can. Heroes hold a special place in her heart, even if it doesn't award her any points with them whatsoever. Rosenred likes to understand the people around her, and rarely forgets something she learns about them. Knowing why capes do the things they do, down to an individual, interests her deeply. Anyone who shows such interest in her rarely get what they want; She has a very one-way personality where she will get to know you like the back of her hand before you even know her real name. Beneath that sly exterior lies a facet of her that no one sees, one that she was always unhappy with, an ugly ball of spite and bitterness that she doesn't seem to aim at anyone in particular. It quickly becomes a lonely situation when one pours their heart out for others without letting them in, and she is an example of that.
Appearance:
Always dressed in ways that make other villain costumes look like threadbare rags, Rosenred’s costume is very fitting to her cape name. A carmine-red tailcoat adorned with flourishing patterns of ashen gray, knee-high boots and a pair of stark white gloves. Her face is obscured by a wide-brimmed hat lined with circular silver patterns that resemble thorns. On the side can be found a rose-shaped pin holding a rather large, bright red feather in place. Below the hat is an extravagant red and white mask flecked with gold to cover her face. Her costume looks more like something she'd wear to a fancy party than the outfit of a villain.
Outside of her costume, Rosenred stands at roughly 5”7’ and looks like she runs a lot. Typically dressing in shades of red and white even when she isn’t wearing the mask, you could get the feeling she has powers due to the fact that her hair is an ashy gray, which feels like sand to the touch, and her eyes a a reddish pink. She will typically pass this off by saying she wears contacts that mess with her eye color, but it’s natural. She has a lot of freckles smattered across her face and hands, and tends to wear earrings that change practically every other day.
Biography:
"My story is one that begins and ends with three other people in this very city."
"Years ago, the Herald known as Archangel descended on Redline, and brought its trademark flavor of agony and suffering on the people. I was one of such people, along with my found family, as we were running through the crowds before we knew each other. That carnal need to escape something we couldn't have hoped to understand... It changed us all, and made us parahumans. The important detail in this is that we triggered all at once, and therefore, the powers we received were shared. Not even two months passed, and we found each other. At first, it took weeks of dealing with our own immediate situations, but every night, hour by hour, we became familiar with one another through dreams that felt as real as the day the Angel came for us."
"My cluster shared power and dreams, I remember a feeling of waking up, and being surrounded by a boundless garden of hedges and roses redder than blood. The sky was dim and starless, with three faded-red moons glowing across the night. My eyes could see the fields as plain as day. When I walked through those fields for long enough, I would come across a building made from white stone, covered in the same vines and roses as the rest of that sleeping world. Imagine a mausoleum, or perhaps a courthouse, without any windows or doors; Only you and your fellow parahumans. It was in that empty structure that we first met, symbolism of swords and roses lined the floor and rippled when we stepped over them. Do you see the theme? We didn't at first, but soon enough, it occurred to us that we were meant to meet there. We were drawn together by forces outside our control, and I do not know if it was those same forces or our own volition that made it so, but I came to know those three as my family."
"I believe that more than anything, we grew on each other because there was nothing left for any of us. We had nothing else to lose. Out of the ashes of our former lives came the Thorns, and we clung to that sense of closeness as if our lives depended on it. We were not anymore perfect together than we were separate, but when you have scars that run this deep, anything is better than solitude. There were four of us in total; Morden, Charmica, Duster, and yours truly. Morden was the rock, he held us together in times when the slightest inconvenience was enough to pull us apart. He was never afraid of anything, with or without his weapon, and we all looked to him for stability. Charmica was a daydreamer in every sense of the word. She was a child who lost her parents, her sister and her home to the Angel, and yet that spark of hope in her eyes hadn't faltered once over the years. That girl had enough that spurred her on that she might not have needed us after all."
"Those two were simple to understand. They wore their hearts on their sleeves. But the last of us, Duster? She was a different beast altogether. Even in the way her powers appeared, she was always the odd one out of us. We wielded swords, and her passenger gifted her a gun instead. Duster was always on guard, either literally or emotionally so. She was a wounded woman just like the rest of us, but something inside her was broken beyond repair, she was so bitter- so angry at the world around her, that she didn't spare enough time to heal her scars. I did not understand the depths of her pain the same way back then, and we thought she would need time. We all needed time, so this was an easy conclusion to come to. When we were well enough acquainted to call each other brother and sisters, we all decided to use our newfound gifts to remake our lives together. Even Duster agreed at the time- We wanted to be heroes."
"The next year was spent doing just that, we trained with our powers, learned teamwork and strategy until it was like second nature to us. It was here that we started calling ourselves the Thorns, we had made the occasional wave, but we were what the PRT might have called small time. They knew our names, they approached us for dialogues occasionally, and I felt we were on fair enough terms with them. They offered us an opportunity to act in a more "official" capacity as up-and-coming heroes in Redline, but we never came to a complete agreement, so we stayed the same, a freerunning cluster team that was only occasionally involved in the business of the more famous heroes. When I look back, I can't help but feel that it was the first decision to mark our downfall. We were far from the best, and we may have failed just as many times as we succeeded if not more, but no matter how small our victories were, they were ours. No one could take them away from us."
It wasn't a long wait after that first year when the cracks began to show. In our shared dreams, we planned everything and left nothing to secrecy, we worked through everything that weighed on us by leaning on each other, all except for the problem member, Duster. No matter how many hands we extended to her, no matter how badly we felt she was yearning for some kind of change, we only made her turn further inward. In every conversation we held with her, she spoke as if she was not involved. Duster always chose her words carefully to count herself out of the planning, even though she followed through perfectly. Either she wanted to simply bury her pain, or she was conflicted, or perhaps it was both. As time passed, Duster's mind became more and more clouded with anger. She lashed out more than usual, with more...generous use of her passenger's weapon when she encountered a villain. Morden did his best to reign her in and reason with her, Charmica tried to understand her. I felt nothing by empathy for her. She was a part of our family, and yet we knew so little about where she came from. It was as if the new life we all made together was the only life she ever had."
"Her spite turned into rage, and then rage turned into hatred. Hatred for us. The last words she ever spoke to us were, "You are nothing but pariahs clinging to craps of dreams you can't touch. I am not like you." Had she simply left and never looked back, we would have hoped that she might find solace somewhere else. We would have accepted that Duster needed something we couldn't give her, and we would have missed her. That, however, was not what happened. We had been seeing other heroes less and less as her demeanor shifted, so the PRT does not know this, but she killed Charmica and Morden. Two bullets in Morden's chest, and one in Charmica's neck. I could only watch them bleed out in my arms as Duster ran for her life."
"Have you ever been in a position where you lose everyone and everything you've ever known and loved? Few people ever experience that degree of agony, and even fewer return from it. It is a beautiful thing to see the ashes of what once was be made into something new. Nearly impossible, but beautiful all the same. But, to do that a second time was a reality I would rather die than live with. I did not have the strength to live without them. For a moment, I believed they would have lived to see another day, but something swelled inside me. A part of my soul had been expanded, like a sword growing sharper. The dagger Charmica produced crumbled to dust between her fingers, and I knew the feeling was their power leaving their bodies in favor of Duster and the last two living Thorns."
"The only thing I felt when they laid before me, lifeless and dead, was the same feeling that Duster had felt for so long. It was at that horrible moment that I knew exactly what went through her mind. It was not pain, it was not trauma, it was not guilt. It was rage. Pure, aimless rage. I wanted nothing more than to kill her. My family, the most important people on this earth, were taken from me, after everything we did for Duster. I believed that there was nothing left, that I could have died there with them, and it would have been fine. Their memories, however, would have been forgotten, were Duster the only one left to remember. To this day, I wish for one thing and one thing only: revenge. I want to make things right for my lost family, and the only way that will happen is if Duster joins them in the afterlife. Perhaps there, she will find peace after an eternity, but this life is not big enough for the two of us."
"My dreams are painfully quiet since that day. The gardens are still in their endless bloom, and the sky has not changed, but the meeting grounds are silent. I walk through the fields of roses and moss, hoping to see at least some figment of them left behind, even if it is Duster I see, so I could perhaps unleash the anger I feel on her sooner rather than later. Every night, I am reminded of the way that dream world use to feel so inviting, but now, there is only the sound of my presence. I made less than admirable decisions in the few years afterwards. Hatred has a way of pushing you to certain extremes, as Duster taught me. I will find her. If not tomorrow, if not the next day, then one day, I will make her pay for everything she took from us. Duster will die if it is last thing I do."
"It very well might be."
Powers: Cluster ID 947C-2.9 “Thorn” Member [Shard C]
Rosenred is allegedly the last remaining member of a parahuman cluster once known as the Thorns. The Thorns’ powerset consisted of a manifested weapon, a perception-based thinker ability, and a minor movement power, in order of strongest to weakest. Where most clusters shift the dynamic of power efficacy, the Thorns followed a consistent ranking where each member’s weakest power was a mover ability, and their strongest was their weapon.
Shard Weapon: Saber Rosenred reaches into thin air and pulls out a weapon. A strangely ornate saber made of an unidentifiable material, consisting of a stark-white blade, red-tinted vines and a red gemstone-like surface wrapped in roses protecting the hand that wields it. The blade is sharp enough to possibly cut through metal, and any potential damage is reversed when the sword vanishes. Anyone who tries to wield the sword other than Rosenred or another Thorn can’t hold onto it- it simply slips out of their hand.
Perception: Awareness Rosenred’s application of her cluster’s thinker power allows her to be fully aware of everything within 360 degrees of her, up to 30 feet away, even when she is not directly looking at something. This power can be obscured by visibility or cover, but will detect someone as long as they could be seen if Rosenred looked in their direction. This power will not work in a situation where her eyesight is compromised, such as total darkness, or if she is blindfolded.
Mobility: Flicker Rosenred’s variation of the cluster’s mover power takes the form of quick burst movements that allow her to “flick” to a desired area. This movement distorts her entire body and happens faster than normal sight can process. During the split second this flicker occurs, Rosenred can move however she wants, but because it happens so quickly, she can only move so far- up to 15 feet during one flicker. After the movement happens, her power needs a moment to recharge with an escalating time between flickers that will eventually reset the less she uses this power.
Other:
It is possible that some members of the Redline Guardians or other long-time heroes knew Rosenred and her cluster before they fell apart, since they welcomed communication with other capes at the time.
Hair Length/Texture Straight, hanging in twisted ends in the middle of her back.
Hair Color Black
Skin Color Pale
Facial details There is not a blemish to be seen. She could pass as royalty.
Distinguishing features Her gaze could cut through a solid steel shield, like she sees into your soul.
Clothing Preferences Pragmatic, like the uniform of a general, or classy.
Psychology
Likes: Roses Travel Books History Duels of skill
Dislikes: Living too fast The cold Braggarts Violence Dishonor
Sexuality Lesbian
Hobbies Swordplay, political intrigue, and lorekeeping.
Life Goals/Dreams To stop this bleak cycle before it begins again…
Personality Summary General Carris is an elusive woman. Despite her military ranking, she holds herself in high enough regards that one might confuse her for a duke’s wife. Status does not win anyone favor with her, she looks to the unseen parts of people to gauge who they are. Any military leader worth remembering knows not to disregard the things they don’t see. She commands an air of respect that implies she would grab a king’s son by the wrist and shout him into oblivion in front of a crowd if he had the nerve to disrespect her. Carris typically comes off as a dignified and reserved woman until spectacles such as that occur. It is common to see Lyra entertaining a conversation with noblewomen with vested interest. Much like a duke looking to lay claim to a beauty, she can rarely resists a pretty face.
Background
Current occupation Retired
Past occupations Major General of a distant kingdom
Relatives None to speak of
Skills Mastery of swordsmanships
All things related to riding and caring for a horse
Fathomless worldly knowledge
Speaks languages you’ve never heard of
History Summary
"There is no other way."
"You can't-"
"I have to."
"If you do this, there won't be anything left."
"That is exactly the point."
"There must be some other way, anything else. This- this is insanity."
"What other way would there be? Tell me."
"I don't- I- Listen to me! We'll figure something out!"
"By the time we do, it will be too late."
"...Do you really know what you're doing?"
"Of course. We'll make it out alive."
"You're scaring me with all this."
"I know. I will shelter you when it begins. They won't harm anyone else. I'll make sure of it."
"You can't protect everyone anymore. There are too many."
"I wiil."
Questionnaire
History
Did you grow up nurtured or neglected?: ”In my youth, I was raised to stand up for myself.”
When you were upset, where was your sanctuary?: ”I had little safety that wasn’t won or secured. The cellar of my childhood home was turned into my own semblance of a library when I learned to read.”
What were you like in your teenage years?: ”They were so long ago. I can barely recall.”
How close are you to your parents?: ”They are…long dead.”
Do you have any trauma that haunts you?: ”Enough to fulfill a hundred lifetimes.”
What advice would you give your younger self?: ”…”
Were you an obedient child or defiant?: ”I learned to think for myself by the time I could write my name on paper.”
What is your biggest regret?: ”That is a story for another day.”
Romance
Have you ever been in love?: ”Yes… A very long time ago.”
What is most important in a partner to you? Describe your dream partner?: ”To love again, I would be a different person altogether. There is no one left in this world for me.”
How do you display affection? What is your love language?: ”I enjoy showing myself through my actions and my words. There is a school of thought that battle is the truest form of expression, where the soul is laid bare as the words in a book.”
Have you had your first kiss? What was it like?: ”I may write a thousand songs, and a thousand more poems. None would ever come to overshadow the majesty of her lips.”
Do you believe in love at first sight? Why or why not?: ”I would like to believe if such a thing is true, I might have found it yet again by now.”
What does marriage mean to you?: ”It is a beautiful thing that I have never had the honor of taking part in.”
Are you currently crushing on anyone?: ”No…”
Do you ever consider having children in the future?: ”I unable to bare children anymore. I am not a mother. I never will be.”
Personality
Describe your ideal Sunday morning: "Peaceful, quiet, solitude. There'd be nothing but the day before me."
What kind of person do you aspire to be?: "I haven't aspired to be one particular person in years. I've become who I am already."
What bad habits do you have?: "It is true that I don't believe I'll ever truly love again, but I can't resist a pretty face regardless."
If you could go back in time and change anything in your past, what would it be?: "I don't have enough words to truly convey the things I would change. There are so many..."
What is your greatest fear?: "I don't fear anything. Not anymore."
What are your pet peeves?: "The ego of one who has the gall to think themselves my better without a sense of familiarity between us."
When you are in a sour mood, do you like to be alone or with others?: "I have found that the peace of isolation is what puts my mind at ease the most."
Are you more likely to fight with your fists or your tongue?: "My blade."
Striding out in front of everyone and standing over a head taller than the taller people in the team, while they had costumes and she had a veritable tank with legs was an interesting feeling. Ever since she got her powers, Scraprig's mind had been full of ideas pertaining to things that were like this suit. Heavy, imposing machines where she was the computer running them. The arm she had built for herself fit that, considering it weighed at least 30 pounds on its own, but seeing the shock and surprise on the faces of her fellow Wards was almost as gratifying as putting on her costume. Bev's fainting gave her pause, but the Vice-Director and Gray Man had her covered. Everyone else's costumes were just as damn good-looking as the one she had under the several-ton coffin she was piloting right now. Hearing the explanations of everyone's powers, a few of them really stood out to her. Crosspoint had some kind of blaster power that gave him shaker-like control over a spot if he put enough swords in it, and V- what the hell did you even classify that as? Striker?
In the times Jane spent at the library between scrounging for crumbs and building freakish tech, she logged a lot of hours on Parahuman forums looking into all manners of cape knowledge. Strikers made things happen by touching something. Based on what V said, she just made things with no major stipulation. It was a weird kind of power, she heard about others doing the same thing where they produced objects- they really needed a 13th classification at this point- that had their own rules. If you specifically produced only guns, were you a Blaster? Whatever, she thought, it was weirdly complicated, and Jane didn't like weirdly complicated things. There was other shit to worry about. An attack on the museum wasn't good. Why there? She wasn't the most tactically intelligent person, but who attacks a place full of cape history unless they're just pissed? It didn't add up, but if they were going to attack, then obviously someone had to be there to do something about it.
So, naturally, the kids got to do it.
"Well, I got this thing-" The radio-conveyed voice said as the machine's arms deliberately moved in a presenting gesture. "It's big and heavy, takes some pretty big punches. Not much else it does, so- you know, just let me handle that? Pretty much a Brute cape when I get in this thing and it's built like a tank. It doesn't really do a lot more, unless you hide behind it so you don't get shot." If nothing else, Jane was at least somewhat less squirrely inside her robot. Maybe it was the fact that she looked like she could punt Gaia across a football field like a sack of potatoes. One damn day...
"So- the museum, huh? Who's gonna attack it? Are we all that's there aside from the security around the place? Is- Is anyone coming? Do we get backup?" She sure as hell hoped so. Honestly, she hoped the Directors would answer all of the above. If it was anyone who turned everybody into arsonists again, that would've been a dealbreaker right then and there- it would've been just like those guys to do that- and she'd go right back to the junkyard. Overclock had experience, but he already looked like a total hardass. Not the most leader-like dude she's met. Not that she met many leader-like people, but impressions mattered.
Time: Night Location: River Port Beach Interactions: Dante @Alivefalling, Darius @funnyguy, Aiden @Potter Equipment: Clothes
Disguises would have helped immensely, especially if it meant she could breathe for more than a minute at a time. Hearing them all talk to the newcomer as casually as they would each other was disarming in a sense. Isolde felt safer than she had since she first arrived in Avalia the other night now that she was around other humans who actually understood her situation. Elemental magic, summoning, a war, disguises, it was all starting to come together as a picture in her mind. Isolde wasn’t many things, but she was one to push through rough moments; she wouldn’t be alive right now if she didn’t have plenty of grit. These two were brothers from earth. The fox-man was a native of Avalia. This Aidan girl was probably a human given she mentioned being in a disguise. Isolde felt a lot more at peace now that there were others around. If she stuck with these people, she’d have numbers and maybe even a sense of composure from being in a group.
”Okay…right. I need a disguise. I need to stay hidden from dark elves because light elves are fighting them and they need help. Okay. I get it now.” She looked down at her hands again, and this time she made the sparks come to her fingers. Clarity in this moment meant clarity in the mind. The way the energy flowed, the way she could reach for the particles to take hold…it felt clear on this night.
”And I’m supposed to figure this out and put it to good use. Lightning at my fingertips to win a war. I think… I think I can do that.” Maybe she couldn’t, but she also couldn’t just stand on this beach and do nothing at this point.
”My name is Isolde Ryder, by the way. I think I should with you guys since you know what you’re doing better than me right now.”
Time: Night Location: River Port Beach Interactions: Dante @Alivefalling, Darius @funnyguy Equipment: Clothes
Ah. She was in another plane of reality to fight in a race war. Fantastic.
This Avalia place looked beautiful, at least. Light elves summoned Isolde to this world, got killed by her new friends from the forest, and left her to die to them and figure out how to blast lightning from her fingers her own damn self. Faaaaaantastic! By the looks of things, Isolde wasn't the only one in this world that had magical powers. In fact, every human did, even if they didn't know it yet. That magic was supposedly the key to solving this war that was going on. These brothers, Dante and Darius, both seemed to know their way around the place. And...the dog man. Menzai. Isolde looked between them and at the guy standing far off to the side. He looked like a character out of a generic anime-adapted manga with that hair and those dog ears. Their chaperone, huh?
"Okay. Dante. Darius...Menzai. Okay." Isolde was doing her best to take all this in, which was easy considering she was fatigued out of her mind. "We're here to fight a far. In a place we don't understand or belong in. Where there are elves trying to hunt us. And the ones that aren't...Left me for dead."
Oh boy.
"Something tells me I need to stay with you three. Since, well, you sound like you know what's going on better than me."
Member
PatientBean,
Duoya,
NoriWasHere,
Shin Ghost Note,
Shu,
Hillan,
Sillyman59,
vietmyke,
Lionhearted,
Izurich
