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6 days ago
Current What the fuck are you people talking about
9 days ago
Check the file type and then just refresh maybe
9 days ago
worse statuses have been posted
13 days ago
Sometimes I forget you were ever fucking on this site at all and it gives me whiplash
3 mos ago
Absolutely fucking not
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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.


Most Recent Posts

Woah

People

Awesome

I'm a little iffy on the premise of this one, but it's not often you see a Parahumans RP. I'm interested.


Sweet. Mind if I ask what you find iffy?

Here i am. Dirty and faceless


I'm dirty dan.

Interested! Probably gonna go for a Thinker or a Brute.


Why not both Hell yeah can't wait.

Also it just dawned on me that I forgot to add the CS so, I'm adding it now. Refresh for a moment or two if you're seeing this as I post it.
Nice
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First and foremost, every parahuman develops superpowers during a trigger event. This event is when they're brought to the lowest possible point they may ever experience when they can't take it anymore, and something finally gives. The specifics of this incident dictate the nature of the granted powers. All powers originate from entities referred to in canon as Passengers, Agents, or Shards.

Shards are fragments of incomprehensible, abstract lifeforms that exist in a separate layer of reality, disconnected from our own. This fact is entirely unnecessary for the working knowledge of Earth Drega, but the important takeaway from it is that the powers granted by them do not line up with our reality. The powers that parahumans receive are foreign, have their forms of logic that they play off of, and are rarely as simple as they appear. Most powers tend to have an "And" or a "But" associated with them, having a degree of depth and complexity that goes beyond the surface. An example of this would be a teleporting mover cape, someone who can go from point A to B in an instant with some effect connected to this power.

The teleporter may not have any issues appearing somewhere on the other side of the country, regardless of sight or distance. Still, the catch to their power is that they can only teleport so often, so many times in an hour before their power stops working, and they must wait again. Or, they may be strictly limited to extreme distances, only able to teleport a minimum distance of a mile.

These complexities are what set most powers apart and tend to play into the way they are applied and the way the PRT classifies them. The PRT has a system of 12 classifications they assign to any known powers, used to identify the broad expression, how it behaves, and the potential their users can get out of it. Powers can have multiple classifications and often have subratings derived from them. For example, if the teleporter produces an explosion upon arriving at their destination, they would be classified primarily as a Mover, with a shaker subtracting.



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Earth Drega is an AU roleplay set in the world of Parahumans, a web series written by John “Wildbow” McCrae. This roleplay is based on the canon universe and placed in the period of the first work in the Parahumans series but is not based on the canonical storyline. Prior knowledge of the story is, therefore, helpful but not explicitly mandatory. You will not be turned away for not having read the Parahumans series.

Discord - Parahuman Wiki

One year ago, a villain named Confessor unleashed an army of ghostly monsters on the city of Bridgewater. The incident lasted two weeks, with Confessor slowly growing into an S-class threat that resulted in the deaths of eighteen parahumans, five of whom were members of the city’s Ward team. The remaining survivors, only two teenage heroes, were transferred out of state once their injuries were healed.

Bridgewater grieved heavily, and most people spent the following months expecting the other shoe to drop when it would turn out that some of the phantoms hadn’t been killed and were simply replicating in the shadows. Some didn’t leave their home for weeks, still paranoid that they’d be met with monsters or a more ruined city than the day before. Known villains stepped up and took advantage, capitalizing on the chaos to grow their influence over the city. Some even left outright and haven’t been seen since. The city wasn’t the same after Confessor’s reign of terror ended. In the following months, damage to the city was repaired, families got back on their feet, and additional workforce was requested from nearby cities.

But most importantly, the people picked up the pieces and moved on, as they always do. The planet still turned, and time passed. There were scars, but they faded to the background.
Bridgewater has relaxed a little, and the PRT has determined that now is an excellent time to try and fill the gap left behind by the former Wards team. Bridgewater is the largest city in Maine, with roughly 800,000 people. It would be straightforward to miss another villain rising in the background. The Confessor disaster caused a lot of chaos across the city that could have easily resulted in trigger events, meaning there are young parahumans who can be recruited and turned into the city’s next generation of heroes. You are those heroes. The PRT and the Protectorate are starting from square one to rebuild their numbers and ensure Bridgewater has heroes to defend it in future years. Many people are afraid to throw children into the line of fire after so much loss, but a lot is riding on this. If the Wards aren’t reinstated in the city, then Bridgewater could suffer in the future.

That can’t happen again.



Welcome to Earth Drega. This is an RP set in the Parahumans series, as stated above, with our alternate lore. Our purpose in this story is to rebuild something important that the Confessor took from us- The Wards. In every city across America, the Protectorate oversees teenage heroes with their own vulnerabilities and troublesome backstories. These kids one day grow up to join the Protectorate while being trained and kept safe from a world full of monsters in human form. Their dissolvement in Bridgewater left a power vacuum, but we're here to change that. The lack of a Wards team is an unusual problem, meaning there isn't any precedent for building one from the ground up. But the good thing about not having a precedent is that we can make our own rules. A branch of the PRT or the Parahuman Response Team oversees every branch of the Protectorate. Their responsibilities include handling the "politics" of capes, preventing the good guys from going too far when stopping the bad guys, and working with heroes of all kinds to ensure evil doesn't win. The PRT's director has come up with his plans to set the Wards for success, plans that break half of the rules in the book and get him fired if these were normal circumstances.

Typically, Wards have to follow rules that their adult counterparts wouldn't, such as the number of hours they're permitted to be on duty. This was the first rule to go out the window for Bridgewater's new team, as they can't get up to speed if they're constantly taking mandated breaks. Wards are given a standard paycheck at the end of every month, which is docked if they break the rules. In canon, it is said to amount to $50,000 a year, but this money will be effectively tripled as an incentive. This money will be theirs to use how they see fit, within reasons. This additional budget also extends particularly to any tinker-class heroes who may join the team, along with absurdly lax limitations on what tech they are permitted to build and use on the job, provided it passes safety testing as usual. The wards will also receive special permission to access PRT information that would otherwise be classified for anyone in their position. This information includes schematics for high-level tinker-tech access to PRT records regarding villains, to name a few. They won't have complete access to the entire PRT database, but they are encouraged to use their available resources.

Lastly, arguably the most important to some is that the usual probationary measures for Wards with a criminal background will be nonexistent. Canon examples of these measures include an ankle bracelet used to track someone's locations for the first six months after they join, restraining orders, curfews, and specific limitations on what someone can use their powers for. None of these will be enacted on a Ward, regardless of their history, as long as they are honest with the PRT and take their new role seriously. This decision was made to encourage more would-be heroes to "come clean," knowing many people were pushed to desperation in the wake of Confessor's rampage. This is also meant to encourage players to write characters that are more rough around the edges, as no one ever gets superpowers in this world by being a well-adjusted individual. They can get away with this without being thrown into a jail cell, thanks to the circumstances.







With a population of 80,000, Bridgewater is the largest city in Maine. You can cross the border to Canada and reach Montreal in just 90 minutes by car or take a boat further up east. Bridgewater received its name for this reason, being a port city for ships going up to Canada. The city has a primarily defunct shipyard where cargo vessels used to come in bi-yearly, but they’ve stopped coming in after Confessor’s rampage. The city was hit pretty hard when the Confessor attempted to take over, and this shows in the less populated districts, now left to crumble to dust. These are typically the areas most likely to see villain activity.

PRT HQ: The main base of operations for the Parahuman Response Team. An ugly, utilitarian building with dozens of floors ran with the vigilance of a federal prison. Numerous sublevels of the PRT building are dedicated solely to holding nefarious parahumans for detainment and questioning.

Protectorate HQ: Partially inspired by the canon Protectorate base of Brockton Bay, the BPHQ is a large, heavily fortified complex with multiple buildings, surrounded by a specialized forcefield system and armed with tinker-made weapons. This is where the city’s heroes plan their day-to-day activities. Everything from public relations patrols and more is plotted here. This is also where the Wards will be when they aren’t off the clock, or on a mission.

The current lineup of heroes protecting the city are as follows:

  • Grandmaster: With a superhuman mastery of all melee weapons and a knack for strategy, Grandmaster leads the Bridgewater Protectorate by example.
  • Axiom: Axiom uses her custom exosuit to effortlessly warp the laws of physics. The universe yields to her intellect.
  • Nightstalker: One of the few Case 53s, and never letting his background get him down, Nightstalker prowls the darkest corners of Bridgewater. Under the cover of shadows, no villain is safe when he finds their trail.
  • Hellstar: This fiery striker leaves nothing but dust in his wake with a single punch. Anyone left standing is sure to be blown away by the force of solid matter going supernova when he throws a punch.
  • Gatecrasher: The villains won’t know where to look. Gatecrasher tears open doorways into an alternate reality where no one else can survive. She enters a partial breaker state to teleport across the battlefield and compromise even the most secure locations in a flash.


Eastwood Park: It’s a half-mile-long park full of things to do. Have a picnic, ride bikes - and hope a villain doesn’t come out of the treeline and start setting things on fire, or just lay in the grass—your choice.

Bridgewater Harbor: Formerly just an industrial sector of the city, the harbor was renovated in the last few months to allow smaller ships and boats to come through. It was a mostly wasted project that made the city look nicer since most people don’t go out on the water in a city where the warmest day is 50 degrees.

Heroes Memorial: A monument of metal and stone in the heart of downtown, dedicated to the lives lost in the Confessor disaster. Dozens were killed in the attack, including a staggering 18 heroes: five Wards and thirteen Protectorate heroes across three cities.


  • 1) Be considerate of other players, above all else. No one is the main character. We will not be entertaining the idea of our characters dying, but our actions may have consequences if we aren't careful. If an issue comes up, I'll help solve it so we can prevent it in the future.
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  • 2) We will be using Discord as our primary method of communication for this RP, as most people do these days. Discord is excellent for contacting people for reminders, asking for extra time to post, or coordinating with one or multiple people for a collab post. I'll post a permanent link at the top of this thread if you don't see it when you're reading this.
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  • 3) When posting your character for approval, post them to the OOC first. If you post an in-progress sheet, do me a favor and state that in your post when you drop it. I'll be shooting for a maximum of 9 characters. Anything more, and it'll get hectic. You will be allowed to write multiple characters. But as a rule, I'm limiting people to a single Ward, with any additional characters being NPCs, members of the Protectorate or PRT, or possibly something else. Our primary focus is rebuilding Bridgewater's Ward team, so these characters won't typically be the center of attention.
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  • 4) Going back to rule one, there are certain things we'll avoid for this RP. This alternate universe is based on a world where people get superpowers from awful things happening to them. But for obvious reasons, some things are best left out. When in doubt, use your best judgment and fade to black.
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  • 5) I'm gently pushing for a post a week, but I know we live in the real world. Things happen: people get rushed to the hospital, your car stops working, and no one's manager is paying them to roleplay. Therefore, this rule will be very flexible. If it turns out that we don't have any issues or get into a rhythm where we post slowly but consistently, I'll probably redact this rule entirely. All I ask is you at least keep me informed so I can accommodate your absence in character as needed.
Leah Jordan

Location: Training Room B
Gear: A hot ass dress
Skills: The insurmountable will to not lose her cool under any circumstances
Oh god oh fuck





”Someone hacked you? The hell?” Normally, Leah didn’t have a clue what in the god damn fuck Danni was saying. But now she sort of did. ”Nice time to find out. But we can worry about that later.” Leah didn’t actually have any sort of social media that these people had. She didn’t know what Disney movie “Filterella” was from or what the fuck a SuperLoop was, because Leah did not have any reason for it. She was raised to not trust people, and that included a man who could find her anywhere she went, so having a presence online didn’t sit right with her. Of course, taking pictures with her friends put her on edge for similar reasons. Was it rational? No. Was it true? Sort of, but she liked feeling like she was actually in the group for once. So she moved around to get into place for their pictures.

When they took the pictures, Leah didn’t smile. There wasn’t any reason behind it, she just didn’t think to. It didn’t occur to her that people usually smiled in these kinds of pictures. And of course, April wanted to take even more. That was fine.

”…Star Whores? Do I even want to know where the hell that came from?” Briefly, Leah wondered if April considered herself a whore. And then she thought to herself that she’d still love April the same if that was the case. ”So… ‘Bine. Who did what to what when hacked you?” She asked Sabine, assuming April would take a hot minute (and she was hot as fuck in that dress) to take her pictures with the “Star Whores.”
She knew they'd been tending to her while she pretended to be out cold. That much was apparent. She also knew that they had been keeping her far away from the laser guy they called Scott. Presumably, because Ryder proved repeatedly just how dangerous she could be. Yet despite that, both "Jean" and this fucking dumbass had the gall to tread in the once place that they, as telepaths, should know better than to enter uninvited. She knew Hank to be the blue guy, and that he had the vibranium used to deter Ryder's powers under a microscope. But beyond that, none of Xavier's words were anything above hollow. Umbra propped itself up as a safe place for most people who weren't Ryder. Umbra pretended to care. And just a few platitudes weren't going to sell this place to her as anything different. Certainly not when this old man was inside her mind. He even looked like he was in control, by the way his attitude appeared.

"I don't give a damn about what you're interested in. My powers and my "origins" don't concern any of you. And I'm not staying here, so you can find someone else to stick in your fancy little mansion." It really didn't sit right with her, the way Xavier talked as if it was just a guarantee that she'd stick around after she could officially walk without falling over again. It sounded possessive, like someone who wanted to keep an animal in a box; Safe, because the keeper wants their pet in good condition.

"You bastards locked me in a digital cage, try to break into my head for weeks, and you think I care one fucking bit how you feel about me? My name is Ryder, and I'm pissed. That's all you have any reason to know. As soon as I can stand up without falling back over, I'm leaving. Follow me, and I'll fucking kill all of you. Got it?"


Jack Hawthorne

Location: Limbo
Skills: Magical Expertise, Magic Combat
Spells: Shadow Arm
Outfit




There was no doubt in Jack's mind that the necromancer-looking dude and the old woman were clearly the heaviest hitters so far. The hands that sprung forth evaporated the demons into nothing. Not all of them, though, as Jack watched flames engulf several more, just before a rune appeared over him. Protection, if his memory served well enough. But so much was happening at the moment. The soulless child was getting skewered, Sym was running, someone brainwashed a demon, and the horde got an edge off on them by ripping Max's throat out. That grabbed Jack's attention, and his first thought was to try and tear off a piece of his arm and turn it into some sort of fluid that could coat wounds. He often used this trick when medical attention was a tricky thing to find, but it didn't work. His hand felt very much like a hand and not a magical construct in that moment, as it normally did. Hopefully those runes would do something about it, as Jack's attention was pulled by a whip ensnaring the woman. The demon appeared to be dragging her back, and winning. Was... Was she blind? Oh, the irony of that.

There were seven people in this throne room, surely one of them could heal the twink.

Jack took a few steps forward, kicking teacups, plates and demonic silverware every which way, and finally manage to use his arm properly. Suddenly, Jack's entire arm was also a whip, though not a particularly deadly one. Still, it was enough. He swung the whip out, and it severed the demon's around Runa's neck. She wouldn't suffocate, but she wasn't in a position to just get back up and start flinging fireballs. So Jack leapt off the table, landing between both of them on both feet with a loud thud. He brandished his scythe out in front of him as a warning to the demon. "If you know any healing magic, that one behind us is bleeding from his throat. If not, then catch your breath. I'll cover you, He said to Runa. He didn't doubt she could take care of herself, especially with magic like that, but getting choked like that took the wind out of someone- literally. If she needed a minute, then he'd buy her time.

But he also wasn't content on giving the demon a chance to pull another weapon out of his ass, so Jack raised weapon and went for another headshot.


Leah Jordan

Location: Training Room B
Gear: A hot ass dress
Skills: The insurmountable will to not lose her cool under any circumstances
Oh god oh fuck





Putting aside the fact that April panicking was a regular occurrence, Leah was a tad concerned as to why she appeared to be freaking the fuck out. Unsurprisingly, though, that panic stopped the nanosecond she laid eyes on Leah. And suddenly, Leah was getting kissed, and she began to feel okay with wearing a paper-thin dress that showed off her muscles. Leah grinned, ignoring the ghost boy just zooming past her... And the fact that she should've knocked first. But in her nervousness, she forgot that manners were a thing. "So do you. Wait- I just said that. Okay, so what are we- Fucking- Woah- Watch the-" She wanted to say watch the door since Leah was getting dragged through it, and was several inches taller than April, who was dragging her through it like some sort of super-strength having motherfucker. Holy shit, she was a lot stronger than she appeared to be, being able to tow Leah around, when Leah was built like a damn horse. She was so caught of guard that she almost fell over, and noticed that April was now running up to hug and kiss Sabine. And-

Wow. Sabine. The sword, the hair, the funny-looking armor? Wow.

"Hm, I- Damn. Okay. Nice armor- April, what the hell are you talking about? Who are we nuking here? Is it Usagi? Because I can just do that myself- Kick the fucker for a field goal all the way to New York. Who fucked up?" Was it obvious she was staring at Sabine? Of course it was, but who could blame her? Hell, April probably was too- Actually, no, she was definitely staring, knowing her. Fuck, they were hot, fuck, damn.

This hallway was starting to get a bit crowded. And Leah did not recognize a single costume here. Of course, she wasn't about to say that, since it would be a whole thing. Was Percy even wearing a costume? Honestly, he just looked like that normally. [color=ff9a4f]"Okay. So, uh... I don't really do this whole dancing thing you guys usually do every year. Are we supposed to get there at a certain time or something?"[/c





Mom: Sorry I couldn't be at home when you were ready to leave.

H: It's fine.

Mom: I'm proud of you, Hazel. I know I don't say it enough, but you're still my daughter.
And I'm glad you've found a way to put your gifts to use.

H: We'll see how it goes.

Mom: What's it like over there? I bet it looks really cool, seeing all those giant buildings.

H: Noisy. Lots of cars.

Mom: That makes sense.

Mom: I miss you already.

Mom: You can text me whenever you want, okay? I'll see it.

Mom: Are you there?

H: Sure.


Hazel shut her phone off, and slid it into a pocket. She didn't feel like talking to the Maternal Unit at the moment, seeing as she was going to get off this fancy jet soon... In another ten minutes. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had to help her box up her bike, and carry the whole thing in pieces over to New York. Three bulletproof, metal containers that could house a superpowered criminal all held the dissembled parts, since no one was willing to cart the thing across the country unless it was stored like this. Hazel would've preferred to just zoom across every state between New York and California, and she could have been there before sunrise if she just brought a box of protein bars. But apparently someone in the chain of Good Guy Incorporated didn't want that either. So instead, she had to ride a private jet, arranged for by Hulk and War Machine. Hazel didn't necessarily mind the free ride, but she preferred the freedom to go places on her own. It would've given her enough time and space to consider how she really felt about this whole thing. Or maybe she just wanted an excuse to get "sidetracked" and fuck off to somewhere else between points A and B.

Eight more minutes. Hazel packed everything she could, including the tools she built her stuff with. So she decided to head back into the cargo area of the jet and deal with the bike. Three minutes were spent digging through her bag, unlocked the containers and reassembling the Vandal in a flash. By the time the jet actually landed, it was powered up and ready to go. The pilot offered her help with her things, but she didn't need it. She had a map of the place already, and slung a huge duffle bag over her shoulders, before ramping her bike off and towards a workshop, where she could store her bike. It was a mix between a garage and Tony Stark's basement which War Machine had set up in advance with whatever the Avengers thought she'd need. Of course, it would no doubt be a shared space, between her and whatever would-be "supers" had a knack for tech. For that reason, Hazel made a mental note to hack the absolute shit out of everything connected to the workshop they provided, just to make sure they weren't spying on her. Hazel parked her ride, threw a covering over it, and pulled up a map on her Codex.

New York was pretty big, Hazel saw the buildings from far away when they landed. Looking around for a bit, Hazel found the main gate and worked her way from there, walking through a courtyard with a holographic screen floating in front of her. The statue caught her eye, and she read the words at its feet with little interest. That was the most generic superhero nonsense she ever heard, and she grew up hearing about how they were a big deal. Over in the distance, there appeared to be a small crowd forming around Hulk. Hazel really didn't want to join all that right now, but she felt like one of them would pester her eventually if she didn't first. So... Fuck it. Hazel strode over. One guy had a whole suit of armor on, there were two that looked marginally identical to one another, and some chick who sounded like a swerving car.

"I'm here," Hazel, stated, announcing her presence. "Would've been nice to know that the Shieldies were gonna dismantle my bike before they told me. It's fixed now, though. " Everyone else might've been polite and formal with these two, but not Hazel.

She didn't extend a hand to greet the Hulk, since she wasn't really confident he could shake a hand without grinding it to dust. But she did at least speak to him. "Could've gotten here sooner without them, really. Name's Hazel."


Jack Hawthorne

Location: Limbo
Skills: Magical Expertise, Magic Combat
Spells: Shadow Scythe
Outfit




He knew it. Deep down, he knew she had to be Ananym. Watching Witchfire's face blur into the exact fact of Jack's dear friend, he almost missed the fact that Madalyne's father was killed right before their eyes. She grabbed Carolina, and they were gone.

"Ananym-" But it was too late, she had left them all for the wolves. Or rather, the demons. Madalyne incinerated Sym on the spot- He doubted the demon was dead, and was glad, since now he could still interrogate the little fucker. Annika, funnily enough, became a cute little bear and went on the attack. He watched them both, contemplating the once-peaceful battlefield for a moment as the demons circled them. He maintained his composure in the chair, and suddenly a weapon materialized out of nothingness in his hands- A scythe made of shadows, with an edge no duller than a strand of hair. Jack kicked his chair away, out from under him, and whirled the scythe overhead with palpable skill and fury. The demon who tried to ambush him from behind had its head removed in a quick swing, and Jack tried to lift into the air. But something weighed him to the ground. He could not help but feel that all magic was destabilizing in Limbo- How long would they have before they were unarmed? If they were all lucky, it was only a side-effect of his magic being based on another plane, during a time when multiple planes were starting to bristle.

"CUT OFF THEIR HEADS! THEY DO NOT DIE LIKE HUMANS!" Jack shouted, loud enough to fill the entire chamber. He jumped onto the table, kicking away teacups and silverware.

Jack was typically a mobile fighter, he did not fare well in confined spaces. His magic depended on his environment to a degree, meaning open areas such as this were favorable. But with this many people, it wasn't easy to stay on top of the enemy. Especially when his magic wasn't cooperating right now. From this position, he could hack away any demons who would join the fray. More importantly, though- He could keep an eye on Sym's smoking body, in case that wretch had the strength to get back up. The moment Jack had the chance, he planned to wring that grapejuice-skinned shitstain for all he was worth. It was a trick from the start, Ananym called herself Limbo's queen- If that was true, then where was Magik? In a realm such as this, their titles would no doubt conflict. She had to be compromised in some way. Missing, busy, perhaps dead. That would be just the thing they needed tonight- Two dead Sorcerers Supreme, now three. But if Jack was lucky, then maybe he could right that wrong. He had the purest form of life magic to ever grace the world resting in his pocket, after all.
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