Blizz

Star Trek: Starfleet Academy Training Cruise RP

Did someone say Star Trek?

Because I'm down for that. I already have a character idea involving someone with a crazy ESP rating. Got swept up by Starfleet one day and was taken in to be studied under dubious circumstances. And winds up here through some circumstances. No one really knows where they came from or how they manifested an ESP that high, but they have it and naturally Starfleet wouldn't let the opportunity to study something pass by. Biologically, they're 100% human but that only makes it weirder. Scientists won't leave 'em the hell alone.

Inferno - STRIKE THE MATCH! - Concluded

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Jack Hawthorne

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Location: Limbo
Skills: Extra-planar Navigation, Magic Expertise
Spells: Twilight Doorway
Outfit

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Those slashes were quite unpleasant… Blood dripped from his chest as Jack stumbled back. He did not bleed the same color as an ordinary person. No, his blood was an oily black, like fresh ink yet to dry. Jack managed to keep his footing with a defiant smirk on his face. Lately, the magical energy in Limbo had been shifting. The universe it was anchored to was like a song, and the individual worlds within were notes. The harmony was slowly decaying, no doubt due to the Veil itself decaying. If he were to open a portal to somewhere safe, perhaps to the Twilight Pass for a strictly brief rest, then there was no guarantee that Jack, the woman, and the now injured child wouldn’t end up on Hala, or inside the corpse of one of the dead gods Jack has been to before. But there was an advantage to be found in most disadvantages. The song was heard by all, and all were one in the cosmic harmony of existence. And so, Jack weaponizes this truth.

Jack channeled his magic, and struggled at first. Even as the metaphorical melody was falling apart, there was a cause that could be diagnosed. He strained for a moment, and latched onto the right “note.” In doing so, he practically cackled in the faces of the Green Eyes Ones. His shadowy hand fumed like a smoking volcano.

”Oh… You sad wretches would not understand power if you consumed the soul of all the gods to ever live. Power is simply too far out of your grasp, that is why you cling to the vestiges of life you steal from others… To pretend you have a sense of meaning in your existence. I cast you out, into the everlasting abyss.”

Sparks of shadow energy formed under the feet of the necromantic beings, forming into tears through reality, through which they fell.

”BEGONE!!!”

They sunk through the portals like quicksand, and were swallowed away into what Jack assumed was an ocean of shadows. Where they actually went was a mystery. But he didn’t care. He despised things like the Green Eyed Ones.

Once the portals shut, Jack looked down at his shirt, now stained with blood that smelled far too strong than it realistically should have.

”This is going to sting tomorrow… I am sorry for your soul, child. If it were possible to reclaim it, then I would have… There are many ways to live a good life without one.” Jack reached into the cloak’s pocket and withdrew a leather bound book, inscribed with incomprehensible markings. He flipped through it for a moment and then snapped it shut again, having verified something.

”If you do wish to hunt your soul down again, you would need to kill the Green Eyed One, which is virtually impossible, as you both noticed…” Tje adrenaline from bamboozling the demented creature was finally wearing off. ”Im sorry, I know this must be sudden. did not know I would be here. I opened a portal and apparently took a wrong turn. My name is Jack Hawthorne, a fellow sorcerer supreme, like both of you and several others. Do either of you know a healing spell? I don’t.”

This was his favorite shirt, too..

Hope for a Dying World

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While the others unloaded everything, prepared their meal for the evening and tended to the horses, Katrina watched the horizon. It was true that people virtually never came through this place, but Katrina didn't travel by wagon or horse. Warlords were more likely to attack a caravan than a scout, based solely on the size of the contingent. A bigger target, and the presence of horses meant someone had means, and means usually meant someone had food. In a barren place such as Moonhorn Ridge, food was a commodity. You either had it, or you left before you starved. Everyone else seemed comfortable enough not to bitch about the vantage point she has "secured" for them. That much was good at least.

"Everything on the continent not ruled hand over-iron fist's some shade of what you're seeing here. Strongholds keep their subjects fed off Hell's meat, the dead or pitiful scraps of meat they can scrape off an animal more trouble than its worth. You'll be lucky to find green grass behind the walls of any place these days, and those usually got magic from somewhere... And you're lucky not to be chained by the holy men if that's the case." Bluntly, Katrina described this brave new world that these holy headaches had stepped into. Katrina was born into, and hardened by the apocalypse. They didn't have a prayer... Actually, they had many, but few would stave off a demon. While Sage played with the grass, Katrina climb onto the top of the wagon, at its highest point, and sat there, watching all around her. Normally, Katrina didn't eat much anyway. With all these people around, she wanted to be on the lookout and ready to incinerate something at the smallest suggestion of unwanted company. That would be an interesting way to reveal her magical tendencies to the group as a whole. But it would be necessary.

Katrina had met people before that were capable of magic. Self-proclaimed "masters" who didn't stand so much as a chance against blood-red fire. Those were often the wild cards, the most dangerous people were the ones you couldn't read or predict. For this reason, Katrina assumed she was always the least dangerous person where she went, that everyone could be a credible threat until she proved herself wrong. Even Osric could pose a threat to her, with his healing magic.

"When night falls for good, make sure that fire goes low. Someone sneaks up on us, they'll have enough moonlight to see past the trees," She advised, settling in atop the wagon and into lookout duty.

X-Men: GenetiX

Of course they had questions, she expected as such. And there was no point in hiding anymore, since it would hinder her point. Ryder would not allow them to return her to Umbra. She didn't particularly want to kill anyone, as that would likely attract more attention and more pressure from Umbra by extension, but Ryder would not hesitate to shred apart every single atom in both of their bodies if it suited her goals. They would not stand in her way, so she had to scare them as much as possible to dissuade that notion, if it did exist.

She skipped over Xavier's question, because Ryder didn't really care enough to explain how someone got his DNA. If he didn't know how the hell someone got it, then maybe he should've used his fancy psychic brain to sort that out himself. No, instead she paid attention to Scott's question, since that was a bit more relevant.

"I broke out today because I was looking for an excuse to. You being there meant it would make my little spectacle that much more difficult, because then that insufferable prick, Becker, would have to waste his time silencing you fuckers. Less time to go after me, more spent covering his ass when I make him look bad in front of "visitors." You just made for a decent distraction, that's it. It made it more convenient, so I wouldn't have to waste brainpower and concentration completely breaking the system."

From the nearby tree, the basket of stolen things floated down into Ryder's hands. All the stuff inside drifted out, and she opened up the laptop to fool around with it. It, along with the phone, miraculously came to life without charged batteries. She started typing away on the keyboard, though she didn't bother explaining since the screen was turned away from them. Knowing her, it was probably something dangerous.

"I'm not going back. So you can leave me the hell alone."

Dreams of the Old World (Post apocalyptic adventure with dream based powers)

Okay I just found this and it sounds interesting as hell.

Here's an idea: It's believed that regaining control after you become a nightmare is next to impossible, and effectively unheard of. Suppose someone did come back as that through some means? In the depths of their dream they found a foothold and slowly rebuilt themselves up, taking back control of their body but becoming physically fucked up in the process. You can just tell they're a dreamer.

Psychologically they're like a broken mirror made whole again. It's one object and the cracks are filled, not removed.

Nomadic Odyssey: Find Your Heart

Interactions: Yoko

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Well, that got weird. The stick girl seemed less than grateful for Selena's intervention, and she didn't have time to ask about the weird eldritch snake-looking abomination following the blue haired girl who rolled up before Stick Girl grabbed her wrist and dragged Selena away. Was that some sort of robot? What the fuck is a Necroid? That girl must've been some sort of tech Nomad, she saw a few of them on the way here- Some had robotic suits, others had weapons and even a flying creature or two. So the jagged snake thing wasn't the weirdest thing Selena had seen today. Alas, that girl seemed a little... Annoying, so Selena was grateful for the excuse to leave.

Once they were alone, Selena turned her attention to Yoko.

"What was that all about?"

The man's appearance was off-putting too- Almost like he was a robot himself like that construct the blue girl had. "Why was that man holding you by a stick?"

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Only an hour ago, Velhass felt terrified beyond measure, at the sight of this creature. Flames rolled out of their skin and burned behind their eyes as if they were a walking funeral pyre. Even the voice they spoke with was like a knife being dragged against his ears. He still felt intimidated by the being who referred to themself as “Shirik,” but they had offered the boy a piece of fruit from a tree. He was starving, so he took it and was grateful that the fruit was not poisoned. The fruit was slightly larger than his fist, and was shaped like a rough orb with red skin and blue leaves on its stem. It tasted like bloody meat, with a kick of something sweet to it. Velhass hadn’t had anything to eat like this in years, if ever.

He sat in cool grass across from the infernal figure, in a thick garden behind their first meeting place. Trees swooped over their heads so as to blend in with the untamed wild, illuminated by a strange orb of light made by Velhass’ “savior.” In the warm glow, he could see a veritable oasis of strange foliage he never laid eyes on before. Bushes with multicolored flowers reaching for the sky, stocky trees with more of the fruits that Shirik offered to him, and much more that he could faintly see off in the distance. Velhass devoured his food in silence, and realized that the Iriad was still watching him.

”...What is it?”

”When was the last time you ate?” They asked, bluntly.

”Two days ago.”

Shirik considered that for a moment, and stood up. They walked over to a tree with wispy blue bark, and swiped a finger. A spark lit up above the branches, and another one of the cordesh fruits fell into their hands. They tossed it to Velhass, who couldn’t help but gawk at this person.

”Eat. I won’t have someone starve in my presence.”

But Velhass still stared, slightly slack-jawed.

”What are you? You’re not like the people in Etapett.”

”Have you heard of the Iriad?”

”Yes… But you’re on fire. They’re made of wood. How are you alive?” It was an innocent question. But it still irked Shirik. They sat down in the grass again, and adjusted their cloak slightly.

”That is not important. Tell me something, boy-”

”Velhass. That’s my name.”

”Velhass… Alright, Velhass, what are you doing here?”

Velhass hesitated. He looked away from Shirik and had to really think about how he would answer their question. What if he answered honestly, and Shirik turned them in? He’d run. This food that they spared would last another day or two depending on how much he ate. There was nothing to lose.

”I was running from someone. They were chasing me, and they would’ve killed me by now if I didn’t run so fast.”

”Who would have killed you?”

”The ones in the metal masks. They wanted to kill me but they didn’t say a word to each other.”

Shirik couldn’t form facial expressions, but Velhass could tell something in them shifted. ”The Inquisitors. You’re a thought mage.”

”I- I don’t know what that is. They told me to surrender, but then one of them pulled out an axe and- Well, I couldn’t stay there. They would’ve chopped my head off!”

”Settle down, boy,” Shirik chided, ”If they ordered a surrender, then that meant they were considering the possibility of sparing your life. I find it difficult to trust that you are unfamiliar with thought magic, while earning their wrath. Do you hear voices where none were found?”

Velhass looked very uncomfortable. ”Sometimes. It started a few weeks past. I- I don’t have a home. I live in the streets, I don’t have anything. I have to steal food to not starve. I didn’t think the baker would miss just half of one loaf that he might’ve thrown out. But he caught me, and a guard got to me sooner than I could run. He swung a mace at me, and I was scared.”

”And…?”

”And it hurt. I couldn’t breathe at first… But then I heard the baker speaking to me. Only when I looked at him- He- I sound out of my mind, don’t I?”

”He was not there. You heard his thoughts as he left,” They were well aware that the poor weren’t helped in the Ascendancy. Shirik could not help but feel pity for this child. ”Is that what happened?”

Velhass nodded slowly. ”Sometimes I can hear other thoughts when I stand around people long enough. When I stay on the same street long enough, I can find some people that walk by every day. I can hear them speak, but they aren’t speaking. Do you hear it too?”

”No. Thought magic and mine are different. I can guess to how the Inquisitors found you. You thought to read them.”

”No… I was trying to read some Tekeri woman. I was only trying to understand it. But they sprung up and cornered me with their weapons, out of nowhere! One of them was holding lightning in his hands, I never felt that scared in my life.”

”And you ran for cover. To save yourself from a threat you assumed would harm you, had you stayed.”

Velhass nodded again. ”What was I supposed to do? Let them kill me?”

Shirik chose their words carefully. ”Boy, listen to me. I have been in this world longer than them. I outlived the first of their ranks, and I know for certain that you would not have died if you stayed. You are scared, this I can understand. But they chose to demand your surrender with the intention of resolving that conflict with peace. Inquisitors teach thought mages like yourself to control that power- Something you clearly wanted. If you return to them, and ask for mercy, then they will grant you it. You would not need to steal to live, they would take you in and you could earn a comfortable life. You-”

Suddenly, Velhass jumped up. ”No! I’m not going with them! I don’t trust them, they’re all trying to kill me! I could hear them when they chased me, they wanted me dead! I can’t go back there… I can’t. It won’t happen. It won’t. It-”

”Enough!” Shirik was standing up now, and the garden they were in became much brighter, as if to divert Velhass’ attention to his surroundings, and not his thoughts.

”What you do now will affect the rest of your days. Do you understand me? You are a scared, weak and dreadfully powerful child. You have experienced things that none your age deserve. Fear is a dangerous thing, but you have a choice to make. Live in fear, as a dreg on the world’s shoulders, or accept that you are not the same anymore, and live differently.”

Velhass’ would-be tantrum quickly vanished. The lights around them both were beautiful, like stars pulled from the heavens.

”I… I can’t go. I’m scared. I don’t want to die.” Velhass shrunk inward, and he looked away from Shirik.

Silence stretched out between the strangers. Once upon a time, Shirik was scared and alone. They had no one to guide them down the path, and now they walked it with confidence, and yet it took centuries of strength to brave that path. Shirik was surrounded by people on the day their life first changed. Soldiers defending the Myriad from the Kolodon. They were not lonely then, and the memories of those people kept them sane in the darkest days.

But this was a child with no one to call his family. An orphan with no one in his life but people that thought he was a plague, or scared him to death. They could not help but soften their fiery glare. What would Shirik’s ancestors do, if they lived to see them be set ablaze on the Day of Black Clouds? Would they have left Shirik to pick up the pieces with only a few stern words?

They would’ve appreciated guidance, back then.

And so, Shirik took in a breath of carbon dioxide that dimmed their roaring flames into near darkness, before they emerged again.

”...Then do not go with them. Stay. This is hardly a home, but you are safe in my presence.”

”You want me… To stay with you?”

Shirik shook their head. ”I do not care if you stay or not. That is your choice, and you do have it. I was in your predicament once. No one offered a roof for me to stay under. They will not find you here, if you wish.”
Velhass didn’t fully trust this person, but they had already shown more kindness than anyone in his life before. Besides, maybe Shirik could help them understand this magic. The thought of living here was new, and it would be nice to not get rained on.

”...Thank you.”

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Dear Myriad, of all the songs...

”Yes… I know the funeral song of my people. One might say I wrote it myself.” Shirik, ever the vague and cryptic one, left the question at that. "We called your... "Red Run" the Day of Black Clouds, I was there. I migrated from Mind to Soul young. Then to Valor years after. The ocean of Valor was unmatched in beauty before the waters were tainted with ash." Shirik spoke fondly of their home, but in truth, it was their home in origin only. They did not know what was happening there in this day and age, or any of them in centuries past. Having been as far as Pell'Tan and back, there were few places that Shirik wasn't familiar with. But the Myriad was something so far from what they had become, that just setting foot there would be to embrace a world that, fundamentally, was at odds with their being. Through hazy memory, they recalled the glares of their surviving comrades on that day. Narmev's terror at Shirik living despite the flame, Suro's spear held to eye-level as if Shirik were a monster in the shape of an Iriad, and so many others. Did they still exist as Shirik did? Or perhaps as an immortal, such as the green ones did?

Did they still immortalize themselves in a world of life magic? Did they, or their descendants remember the face of the Burning Iriad in some fashion? As a myth, like the rest of the world or as a martyr of the Kolodon's war? These were questions that Shirik could never answer in the last thousand years. They may never find the answers to that peace, and they may never know if they truly yearned for it.

Shirik wasn't too old to hear Esedel's hushed voice. But the didn't comment on it. They were curious as to what Kvarr actually knew of the "cursed" Iriad who cooked them all a dinner.

X-Men: GenetiX

Ryder didn’t actually want to answer the question of how she knew, as it would tip her hand and she’d light on the sheer scope of her powers. But in a split second choice, she came to a half-baked conclusion: If they knew how dangerous she was, they would keep her away from Umbra for their safety. So a small part of her chose to intimidate these men. To gloat.

”I know everything that happens in that place. All I have to do is think about it and I can read their whole system like a book. They take notes like they’re scared they’ll forget what they had for breakfast if they don’t- Every name, age, medical condition or allergy, I know the address where every single worker there goes to sleep at night. Everything that’s ever been put on a computer, hard drive or sent over a text message has passed through my damn skull at least twice.”

Ryder took a step towards them, channeling a bit of that manic determination she demonstrated constantly until now. ”They don’t breathe without me hearing the sound. Every single time someone closes a door? I know about it. Their computers do what I tell them to- I can shut the whole place down with a thought. That’s how I know, because they have your name in Becker’s files. They were too stupid to think I could do it- They thought I was weak and they paid the fucking price!” Oddly enough, Ryder didn’t sound angry in this moment. In a scary way, she sounded proud of herself. Vindicated in how she ransacked the place as she left.

”They didn’t think they had to wipe their logs or watch out for me. They didn’t think I could reach into the system’s heart and rip it out if I wanted to, so I caught them with their pants right the fuck down. I’ve known about you for years. You’re just a drop in the damn bucket, old man.”

Titans of Gotham

Enough had happened at the attack on PK-01 that Monolith wasn't going to discuss it unless someone else brought it up first.

And of course, no one did.

After the incident where he damn near killed the cybernetic murderer, Oscar simply tuned everything out. He didn't mean to fight as hard as he did, in fact he wanted to simply incapacitate Peacekeeper and be done with it. But hearing those gunshots and knowing Bolt had to have been hurt, Oscar just... Snapped. He relapsed back into the old mindset that Avalon had programmed him to work with, where he needed to be the only thing still breathing in the end or he had failed somehow. The feeling of that was painful. Monolith tried so hard to be someone different, and yet he nearly murdered someone on their first mission as a team. He counted himself lucky that the others avoided him as they had. He wasn't sure he could face them if they asked about it. When Animal Man trained him and Trask, Monolith used it as an excuse to leave PK behind him. The rhino herd wasn't a particular challenge to him.

The challenge was collateral damage. Monolith was like a sledgehammer, he could hit what he was aiming for with absolute power. And yet, he would but everything else around it as he did. Someone like Trask was more like a surgeon in the application of force, he didn't waste anything. Every move was calculated. Of course, Monolith calculated his attacks as well- He had to. Even something as minor as stepping on someone's foot as he walked by meant someone would be unable to walk, and holding something meant for normal human hands was a risk when he could shatter anything short of Tenth Metal. Even still, one could be calculated in their application of a rocket launcher, but it was still an explosion. Monolith opted to make his attacks no less profound and aggressive, but more sparse. He did not rush down the rhinos, he grabbed one and hurled it at another like a sack of grain and nothing heavier. Instead of shoulder charging the entire herd at once, he swung a fist at specific points on their chunky bodies, their horns, their legs, or their sides. There was only so much precision one could have with strength like his. But honed precision was better than no precision.

During downtime, he overheard Garfield talking to someone about something.

"Is something wrong?"

Inferno - STRIKE THE MATCH! - Concluded

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Jack Hawthorne

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Location: Limbo
Skills: Extra-planar Navigation
Spells: Twilight Doorway
Outfit

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If there was one thing that Jack had learned from all his travels, it was that nothing could last forever. Including the absence left behind by others. In a way, Jack felt better knowing he had the chance to settle something that plagued him since childhood. He stood up gently, and left the acorn to rest in the inner pocket of his coat. He raised his shadowy hand, and smoke began to trail from it. He looked at Ororo with a tired smile, a genuine one. ”Farewell, my friend.”

And then, he walked away.

Jack slowly walked through the garden that Ororo has raised over a lifetime, taking it in knowing it may be the last time he saw it for an eternity. The peace gave him time to collect his thoughts while he prepared his door out. The concept of purposes in life always eluded Jack until now- Why did one need a purpose to simply exist? But now that reality as he knew it was threatened, he found himself longing to make things right on Stephen’s behalf. An orb of darkness appeared in his hand, and he tossed it out in front of himself. It began to take shape.

Jack stared into the demonic sky above Ororo’s garden. That was the world he was entering again.

”You died here, didn’t you? You must’ve put up a fight against whatever force it was that could harm you,” He mused aloud, to no one in particular.

”I should have been a better friend to you. I’m sorry I could not have been there before you met your demise… You’ll have your successor. I will make sure of it.” Jack didn’t really think anyone was listening. No one could possibly hear him, certainly not a dead man…

Right?

The portal stretched out into its full shape, and Jack stepped through. On the other side, he was greeted by the infernal snell of Limbo’s air. That fiery wind that burned the lungs and left sand in the eye. Only, rather than reuniting with Annika and the others, he stumbled upon a woman wearing Stephen’s cloak… Just how badly did that man fuck up for there to be four of them? Wait- No, there was another one… And the room smelled like meat. And calcium. That was a child he sawZ In the clutches of the Green Eyed One. And it appears to be a child.

No, no, no no no.

”Well, well, well. If it isn’t Limbo’s most forgettable demon. Still obsessed with this garish form of decoration, I see. Put that child down, and I will consider letting you walk away without draining you in the Great Abyss.” Jack locked his eyes on the Green Eyed One, making his presence loudly well known. He despised creatures like this, and had a very special place in mind for where to banish this motherfucker.