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26 days ago
Current Mahz has a desk?
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1 mo ago
no
2 mos ago
What the fuck are you people talking about
2 mos ago
Check the file type and then just refresh maybe
2 mos ago
worse statuses have been posted

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.


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There was something paradoxical about coming from the background Ryder had. Years spent seeing the world through screens, wires and brain waves only to be confined to a hole deep underground. All the nations of the world, she could walk through them by casting her consciousness deep into the endless networks of human civilization. And yet Ryder hadn’t ever ventured outside Umbra for so long.

She learned things she should have, learning the dangers of combat from war and political history that she only touched on for her strategic efforts. Scouring digital libraries for analogies to her plans, Ryder often found that an element of surprise won entire wars. She leveraged that for her breakout, taking advantage of the X-men and the security systems to leave people floored before they could even react. And it had worked. But they’d expect such a trick next time- The unexpected tactics only worked when they weren’t affected by precedent. If she went back to Umbra alone, the chances wouldn’t be skewed so easily in her favor.

”Alright, fine. When they get back, I’ll plan this and all of you can be involved. Sure, whatever. But this is my business,” she stated, firmly. ”I’m not going to be slowed down, stopped or talked out of doing this. Any of you decide you don’t like this? I’m going without you.”

Umbra was going to be eradicated, with or without the X-Men’s help.

”I lived in the underground areas, they had tunnels they thought were hidden from me.” She looked up at Logan, who had been bragging about being similarly vicious. ”And their network is easy to break through. We’ll get to the rest later. Find me a computer you can trust not to be breached, and I’ll log things onto it for this.”

Interactions: ₘₐₖₑ ᵢₜ ₛₜₒₚ
ₘₐₖₑ ᵢₜ ₛₜₒₚ



Amara had pointed her gun at Alizee Vul, but she hadn’t actually planned on shooting the ghost. Ghosts couldn’t be killed, they could just be unpersoned for a while and then they came back. They didn’t stay gone. Thankfully, Amara didn’t have to actually look past her headache that was getting worse right now. Everyone jumped her, Leon went off, Stormy got ready to drop the big one, Sloane went for it. Attack, attack, attack. Good. Amara pointed her gun at the ground while everyone started talking about how the Void Heart had been sealed and what to do with this bitch. Meanwhile, Amara screwed her eyes shut and counted the pulsing throbs of her skull in the hope it could take her mind off the migraine.

Stand vigilant, Soldier.

Shut the fuck up. I don’t need this right now, get back to your post.

God, there were so many noises right now. Everyone was just too loud. Amara could hear her heartbeat thumping in the back of her neck, so firmly it stirred something up in her throat. If she just kept her breathing steady, then it was tolerable.

She brought a hand up to her temple, and felt ice against her head instead of fingers.

Whose voices was she hearing? She knew Sloane was in here, but that didn’t sound like her. Was it Linqian? Fuck, what was it? She needed to get out of here and get some fresh air. She needed to- She…

”... ᴴᵉᵃʳ ᵐᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ! ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵖᵃʸ ᵇⁱᵍ⁻ᵐᵒⁿᵉʸ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵉᵃᵏʸ⁻ᵈᵉᵉᵏʸ ᶜʰᵃⁱⁿ ᵇᵒⁿᵈᵃᵍᵉ. ᵂᵉ ᵖⁱᵐᵖ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵇᵃⁿᵏ.”
Who are these people?


”Shut up already…” She muttered. It was like she had hooks digging into her neck, like someone was trying to drag her into something frigid. It hurt.

“ʸᵉˢ! ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ? ᴸⁱˢᵗᵉⁿ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵀᵉᵐᵖˡᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵃᵍʳᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ˡᵒˢᵗ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵒᵛᵉ ⱽᵒⁱᵈ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵍᵒ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ʳᵃᵐᵖᵃᵍᵉ, ᵒʳ ᶜᵒʳʳᵘᵖᵗ ᵐʸ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ, ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖʳᵉᵛⁱᵒᵘˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉ. ᴵ'ᵐ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᶠⁱˣⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢⁱⁿˢ, ᴬˡⁱᶻéᵉ. ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵈᵒ ᵐʸ ʲᵒᵇ. ᵀʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵗᵉᶜʰⁿⁱᶜᵃˡˡʸ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵘˡᵗ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃⁱᵗ!”
Where are we?


She was dying, she could feel it. Everything around her was just sloppy watercolor when Amara opened her eyes and white noise when she closed them.

”Please stop talking, I can’t br-“

“A bunch of idiots! There you fucking have it! We gave her her fucking undeserved moment, Jasper!” exploded Sloane, stomping her foot down as she leveled her staff, ready to zap Alizée if she attempted to resist. “And she blew it, so stop projecting your guilt on us. Come on, Britney. Do it.”
Not yet. No, no, no-


Britney?

Why did she know that name? Where did she put it? She left it here somewhere, but the clouds were so thick. She knew a Britney- Britney Wilson? She died, didn’t she?

No. Britney Williams. Amara remembered something: She was alive still.

“RUBY IS FUCKING HIGH AND THOSE TWO ARE CULTISTS!!!”
Sloane Faris


”SHUT THE FUCK UP, ALL OF YOU!!!”


Amara’s gun clattered to the floor as she shrieked at the whole room. Her voice wasn’t her own, it was too many voices to count, layered over each other in sync. Her face was twisted up in pain, Her shoulder were rising and falling with her breathing like she was hyperventilating.

”THIS IS WHY YOU NEVER GET ANYTHING DONE!” They shouted. Her eyes were bloodshot, the room was spinning. ”You just SHOUT and SCREAM AND FIGHT back and forth with each other, and none of us are on the same damn page long enough for it to matter! If we have to- Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck…”

Her head swayed, she blinked, and her eyes snapped to Alizee. ”Seal her. Do it.”
In SPIRITUM 5 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




While he dragged the tanker away, the others were doing their own thing. The dead guy in the truck was accounted for, the scene was being investigated. It didn’t seem like anything critical would happen until the ground exploded. Landsharks sprang up and threatened to devour the squad, which was using the mist to communicate. Maybe that was why these things caught wind of them, Morden knew they were sensitive to the astral mist, after all. He could feel the ground beneath his feet start to rumble and crack, just in time for the jaws of one of the landsharks to snap shut around him.

For a brief moment, there was only darkness.

Val demanded an update over the channel, but Morden didn’t immediately react to it. He was too busy being thrashed about in the jaws of a landshark that was trying to bite down on its catch. But alas, his skin and flesh was infused with the mist, so all it could do was fumble. One of its sharp teeth snapped off between Morden’s fingers, and he plunged it into the roof of the beast’s mouth.

Anyone on the outside would watch it cough up blood, more and more as Morden sliced its mouth open. From there, it only got hideous.

The landshark’s blood spewed from its jaws as if it was vomiting chunks of gore. And then Morden’s fist and arm exploded through the skull, holding a bloody tooth the size of a dagger. Skin, flesh and bone parted, and he pried the thing’s bone away from itself to rip himself free.

The last thing the landshark could possibly do was scream, writhe and fall limp. Its head was torn to shreds from the inside out, and Morden crawled through the cavity where it’s brain should have been. He landed on his feet beside the dead animal, soaked in blood and viscera with his new trophy in hand.

One down, he relayed over the telepathic channel. Their toughness is only skin deep. Take advantage of this.
In SPIRITUM 5 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




If Morden was being completely, brutally honest with himself, he did not give a fuck about the interpersonal politics of Vangar’s government. Doves this, Imperialists that- It didn’t matter if they argued until the Astral Mist evaporated into nothingness. While they debated on how to move forward, people were dying every day. The old saying that war is old men taking and young men dying rang true, so they could trade words in Vangarian tribunals all they wanted. It wasn’t Morden’s problem, nor his perogative to listen to such words. It was war.

The crash on the road, however, was a bit more impactful. Etherium was spilling out, and Morden was sensitive enough to the mist that he could tell it was getting bad. This entire road could be a crater any second, one errant spark here or there setting it all off. The others got out, and Morden took off in the other direction. Fifty paces backwards, since he didn’t want to risk anything weird happening. It might not have meant anything, but his magic was awfully mist-hungry.
He inhaled air, and exhaled raw magical power. The mist filled his skin and flesh with strength, the air crackled. And then, he walked back over to the wrecked truck.

Morden jogged back over and stepped around the pool of Etherium. His hands reached for the hitch between the truck and the container, and he snapped it off. He then gripped the steel walls of the tank, and exhumed a loud metal groan from it as he tried to push the thing upright. The damage might’ve been done, but he could stop the puddle from becoming a flood.

The wheels banged against the ground as he got the awkward shape to move. The Etherium sloshed around, but now it wasn’t going to spill further.

I’m moving the tanker. Watch your step, don’t get Etherium on you.

He walked around to the front end of the tanker, and lifted upwards with one hand. From there, it was as simple as dragging it like a wheelbarrow off of the road, out of the way of any vehicles coming and going.
<Snipped quote by Blizz>

Well shit, now I feel homesick. xD I think I'll give the room a moment to react before responding.


In my defense it was your rp lmao
Yeah

He will pull a Rainsinger if he thinks he has too now that you mention it.


Interactions: Everyone
The House on the Hill



It was no surprise people had gone off and broken away from the conversation. Jack could not deny that he sounded hypocritical, advocating for her in private and then being so cold in public. He wanted to give Layla a chance, but she took that notion of hope and twisted it until it snapped. Blatantly working against them when they were so close to getting their foot in the door. When she left, Jack took in a deep breath and mellowed himself out. This was fine, he thought. This wouldn't spoil everything, Greyson even had a good follow-up question: Why were they necessary. He'd let him do the talking for that.

But then everything took a sharp turn in a direction he didn't think would be possible.

A portal opened, right in front of him. Not the kind Jack recognized, and he recognized a lot of things. Chains and fog, and from out of them came a woman with white hair, taller than Jack himself. She grabbed him, and the chains wrapped around his ankles.

She spoke of the Void Heart... Her mask glared through him with eyes red as blood. There was something angry about her, and Jack was put on edge. Rather than be caught off guard, his body language gave off the impression he was one impulse away from attacking this woman. Could it be that- No...

He wouldn't.

“Tell me what you did. What happened to Vul? Where. Is. The Void Heart?”

“Who the hell are you?” She demanded.

“Alizée. Alizée Vul.”


His heart sank like a rock. Jack glared through the mask, back into those eyes. The expression he wore gave it away plainly, exactly what he felt. It made sense now, as quickly as she appeared. This was not her. Jack knew it. Death claimed all, and he was the arbiter of the gates to the Dark. The real Alizee had died that night. This was what the Hound didn't collect from her remains, given a shape by ambient rage. It was angry, a product of the Void, the very place he walked like it was home.

The Black Star weighed heavy against him, beneath his shirt, mere inches away from this spirit's grip. Jack reached up and grabbed the wrist holding him with his own inhuman hand, in a grip that threatened to snap it in two. The real Alizee was shorter than him, didn't speak with that wretched tone. In his other hand, a scythe appeared. All around them, shadows danced at the edges of everyone's vision, little shapes that stretched longer than they should have, that they could watch move if they just looked faster.

"You are not Alizee, creature of the Void." He rejected that notion on the spot. "The real Alizee knew we had both seen things worse than you. Rahk-las hreshnik yuul." "You do not scare me," in the Voidtounge. Even now, he just couldn't help but grandstand a little.

"Whatever you are, you don't want to do this." The chains wrapped around Stormy, but he was ready. His Phantombane aura had gone out, but he held it in his hand, ready to cast at a moments notice to ward off the Apparition if things got bad. In his other hand was the Stoic Shell, in case it had a ranged ability.

"Go back the way you came, princess. Right the fuck now," Amara warned, leveling a pistol at Alizee Vul's face. There were know phantoms in the room. But the Army was always watching.
She could drag him into the Void (which would be a bad idea considering he's the void guy around here getting dragged in by the void girl) but that just puts him in his element. This is gonna be funky
It also motivates them to fuck right off in a way similar to stormy's fuck off aura but it doesn't hurt. it's like you know you need to fuck off or you might get hurt. puts them on edge, but something as intelligent as Not!Alizee probably recognizes it more like a bad vibe and little else. it doesn't hurt, but it's yikes
<Snipped quote by FernStone>

Yep, very true.

<Snipped quote by Blizz>



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