EchoWolff

Archaic Circuitry: Old Code, Young Blood

Elio's vision swam as he struggled to his feet, as if the gravel beneath his feet were melding together, becoming fluid, and effervescent as he stumbled about, fruitlessly searching for one of the only stable things that has ever stood stalwart in his life. His weapon. Although, it seemed even that had abandoned him. His limbs felt as if they were fraying at the edges, the pain crackling like flames across his flesh…

Shivers, tingles spreading like cobwebs as a gentle yet firm hand gripped his shoulder. Instinctively he shuddered, a cold chill instead of the warmth one would expect. Then came the voice, chiming in his brain like a crystal bell, yet it stood in a strange limbo between auditory sound and a eerie knowledge that the words were there…

”The hell? Why are you-”

His thoughts derailed quickly, some feeling of deja vu overcoming his senses, a spark flying from his heart, heated like slag struck from metal… a familiar gesture, but not as rough as he remembered it.

A moment’s consideration of the watchman’s transferred speech… It didnt feel as painful as a few minutes ago, but that could just be the adrenaline pulsing through his veins at present. Shakily, he nodded, but didn't move to sit down. He didnt want to aggravate anything else by moving. Not yet at least.

Instead, he began assessing whatever physical damage he could see, namely his outfit. Noticeably dusty, dustier than usual, his coat now pelted with nicks and scratches. Looking up again as Osprey returned, his weapon in hand.

As the watchman rested the scrap-spear against the wall, Elio’s eyes never left it, like some kind of magnetism. When the voice snuck into his head again, his gaze flicked back to Osprey.

”Well… Sometimes new tricks need some old tools. We can wait on the equipment, but tactics we can discuss… A-after I lie down for a while...”

Maybe standing while this unsteady was a bad idea…

@Kronshi

Archaic Circuitry: Old Code, Young Blood

With the pained, ragged wheeze, the noise that flowed through his rust-ridden bones, it was like some foreign yet oh so familiar rush that invigorated him. As the sniper's shot hit home and the stones fell, he let out a low breath. His muscles relax slightly, letting down his guard.

Is it over? Please tell me it's over.

Alas, wishful thinking couldn't grant the truth. The beast had started moving again, Thrashing and swinging about its extremities, he tried to back away… only to be directly hit by the crocidile-clad tail as it swung toward him.

”Oh fu-”

It was like being hit by a cannonball, or at least felt like it. He felt almost weightless as he was effectively swatted away, not-so-gracefully gliding through the air before making rough contact with the ground. Once. Then twice. Skidding to a stop roughly ten feet away from where he was. His hat had flitted away in the breeze of the tumble, a soft groan escaping his lips as his now bruised and bleeding hands grasped at gravel… the incessant buzzing of the rust gnats that stayed ever persistent rang in his head like a splitting chime in an echoing chasm… As the dust in the air settled, Elio had found himself coughing up blood, his throat burning from the metallic fluid as he shakily attempted to calm his erratic breathing. Everything hurt, but his chest more so. He couldn't tell if he had broken or just bruised a rib or three, but he was still alive, or at least conscious. That's what mattered when everything was said and done.

He felt around with bloodied fingers, searching for his weapon, but his fingers didn't touch it's familiar biting rust… just more rocks and pulverized debris.

Did I loose it on impact…? I hope no one got impaled…

Light shuffling against the ground could be heard as he tried to raise himself, trying to get up despite the pain shooting through his limbs… and it was not an easy attempt…

What is more humbling than a man being brought to his knees in a single strike? I'm really not as resilient as I would like to think… I'm no Quasit, I'm just a man with rust between his flesh and bone…

It took too much energy than it was worth. He needed to conserve whatever the beast had left him with. He had to trust that the others would finish the bastard off… But then again, he could still help… he just needed his weapon back.

"Ugh… Where did you run off to…?"

Archaic Circuitry: Old Code, Young Blood

A tool is only as sharp as the one who wields it.

A chink in the armor. It wasn't what Elio hoped for, but it was a damn good start. He took a glance at the others, or the others that he could see this side of the beast anyway, progress was being made without a doubt, so he needed to pick up some slack. What's the point of making a weakness if it can't be exploited? He stepped forward, his hand outstretched again, and stones shifted beneath his feet as his momentum picked up. It was time to pick up a bit of slack. The contact of stone beneath Elio's feet and the familiar stick of rust in his hand, the rippling pain of the fragments digging in and feeling his stores as they were beneath his skin...

One small drop, in a mouthful of blood.

A trickle of sanguine lifeblood dribbled down from his right arm, a new opportunity surfacing. He needed to get some of the excess out, lest he start losing mobility. He felt like an old man with arthritis when he thought of it, joint problems arising ever since his magic. So he used it. He rolled up his overcoat's sleeves, rust gnats still swarming around as if they were attracted merely by its presence, rusted metal peeking from his flesh like amethyst escaping its geode.

Painful little bitch... I can hardly tell the difference between being stabbed with a needle or metal breaking through... What the hell am I talking about, they're the same feeling anyway.

A pull, a tug, like yanking a fishhook straight out of your arm, blood was no longer held back by the narrow seam between rust and flesh, his lifeblood ran free with the pained grunt that came forth from deep within Elio's throat. The chunk, no larger than two, maybe three, inches long, a few centimeters in thickness, and more than a few barbs that still clung to the flesh that it was birthed from, floated unsteadily beside him as he came closer to the stone-horn, eyes focused on his man-made weakness. His spear was thrust forward like the banner of some general leading troops into battle, the 'cheap shot' firing forward towards its mark and gaining quick momentum, its half-assed marksman soon to follow.

Charging in like some barbarian... hmph. Sounds fun, there's a first time for everything after all.

The spear tugging him forward, upward, onward... pain begets emotion, the heat of passion and apathy. With a step dug deep he reaches for the sky, velocity and continuance of motion carrying his journey forward. His spear was trained behind his bullet prepared to strike.

The Hammer and the Chisel.

"Excelsior, bitch!"

The words bellowed from his chest as he struck the nail with whatever force he could muster mid-air, the clanging frequency of metal ringing against one another echoed in his ears...

A true symphony.

Archaic Circuitry: Old Code, Young Blood

Fucking bugs...

With a groan, Elio rose from his rest, his head ringing from the incessant hum of the rust gnats… he stood from his cot, looking out the old window into the streets before his dilapidated living conditions. He pulled the thin cloth that could pass as a curtain over the glass, grabbing his mask from the windowsill and turning to the scrap metal spear that sat leaning against the wall. One of the only things he could trust in this world.

“Alright old friend. Ready for another bout?”

Hand outstretched, the spear raised to meet him, grasping the cold rust, he could feel the filaments digging into his skin. Of course, this wasn't any pain that he wasn't used to. Advancing toward the door, taking his brimmed hat from upon its hook before open his door to the world outside…

---

Swatting away rust gnats from him, attracted to the rusted metal of his spear, as well as the flying vermin attempting to feed off of the shards that jutted from his skin… it wasn't the weirdest thing that could be seen, but that didn't quite matter to him. The debtor had entered the headquarters of the V.E.T, late evidently as everyone seemed to be there already, taking a seat at random, ending up next to a Rat Wasteman, not uttering a word as he set his spear down beside him, letting the weapon rest against the adjacent chair. His iridescent oculi stared around the space from soul to soul, an attempt to figure out exactly who and what he would be working with…

He hated mornings like these… quiet and somber, it forced thought. As loud outside as it was, it held within a deeper and speculative quiet that brought his eyes to a gentle close, visions of what had come before, phantasms of that which had past… He shook the thoughts away, nothing could change the past. The future and a hope to free himself from his debt was all that stood before him now.

The Captian's appearance was a welcome sight, the sharp-toothed woman's voice cutting through the deafening silence of Elio's thoughts, reeling him back to the realm that was his reality. But of course, he gets no half-hearted banter, but instead an assignment. Such a troublesome job… the rewards were lackluster, though he wasn't one to estimate other wayward soul's opinions of such a matter. If they wanted a pat on the back, or head in this case, for their work then so be it. The outcome would come out the same either way.

Though it would be nice to go the wrong way ‘round. Have someone owe me.

This wasn't the time, nor place for this. He stood, last to come, and now near last to leave. He tipped his hat low, adjusting the sleeves of his overcoat, making sure it covered what it needed. He didn't need rust gnats eating away at his ‘reserves’ after all, his scarred hand brushing against the small patch of tan fur that lay on the inner of his right wrist, one of many, covered by the long sleeves of his coat. Grasping his weapon, he made for the door, his gait brisk and firm.

One walks with purpose, the rigidity of steel and the regularity of a machine. You are not without purpose, so embrace it. Show it.

Wise words. Or maybe he was just used to saying it. Who was he kidding, he was partway to becoming a Qill any way you slice it, the chemistry of his body slowly becoming more metallic, becoming the vessel for the rusted metal that his magic was supposed to allow him to control. The pain was managable, be didn't know why his mind kept circling back to this… the injustice of it all… Just one of the reasons to join the expedition.

But the world was never fair. Was it?

He kept on, faster now. The others would end up killing the damn thing faster than he could get there. A brisk jog could get him to where he needed.

---

Arrival.

The scene was chaos already. A creature with hide as thick as this would require pure energy or force, if only it had a conduit to the flesh beneath… The spear of the debtor soon left his hand, keeping in step with his arm as he raised it, his movement refusing to cease as he circled closer, a hunter seeking to cut off its prey.

Lest not the veil of ignorance be pierced. Silence those who speak about the beyond.

“Sorry Dad. Not happening.”

A thrust and a flinch, sending a sharper point to meet its mark, the ragged multi-point impaling edge honed as far as his abilities allow.

Now I just pray it doesn't break...

From Realms Beyond — An Isekai Crossover RP (Now Accepting)

---

🎵

The Phantom Thief had strolled the perimeter of his flank, searching for any stragglers as he circled back to the heart of the hamlet. If so many of these little villages keep getting attacked like this, they might have to start charging for protective services...

Strolling through the town streets toward where some of the others were conversing, sheathing his small blade and stretching out his back a bit, Arsene's spectral form dissipated as his mask returned to his face. If there were other kidnapped otherworlders, then this would be a good source of information... providing if they were here longer than the caravan group was. Otherwise, it would just be putting another tab in the list of worlds they would never get to see.

Having missed introductions, again, he had walked into a conversation of which he vaguely knew the subject, at first glance at least, before eventually catching on...

Am I really this uncoordinated without my phone? I'm late to everything now... His mind wandered as he passively stood on the sidelines, listening in on the conversation between the treant, the pale woman, and a good two-thirds of his familiar group participating. He said nothing, having nothing to contribute as of right now.

Afterimages: The Mirrored World

🎵

As glass simply hung within the air, caught and entwined by unseen strings, time held no meaning here. No rules are imposed but the world's own.

Within the dark heart, a place that saw all within the aberrant landscapes of the Alterworld, the trinity watched, as hands were placed upon the table.

"Knowing you, Erebus, you like this little game you play with these humans... if they can even be called that after what you did to them. I don't know how Malgam puts up with you, dear brother..." The formless one let free a sigh, Nyx crossing her arms across the table as she sat, the cowl that enshrouded her head pulled low.

"The least you could have done is give them more information about their predicament, instead of throwing them straight into the fire."

"I didn't ask you to comment on the way I conduct my business." The masked one, Erebus, retorted. Taking his own seat, the one of many faces silently adjusted his outfit, as if waiting for something to happen as he stared intently at his contracted...

---

"AH!" Chihiro cried out as she was pulled to the hallway, before she was set down, the deer passing out on the ground, pushed to his limit.

Her gaze is brought to the black hole- fallen angel- thing, as it spoke, uttering its frantic words as it brought the puppet into one of its many pairs of arms...

"W-wait! We don't even know where the exit is, let alone if there even is one!" She called out, anxiously going to the deer as she steadily began dragging him toward where the seraph went... Her eyes drifting down to a glass shard grasped in her paw, colorful and reflective... yet her reflection showed not what her form was here, but her more human visage. Her eyes closed for a brief second, stowing the shard away, as she dragged the unconscious deer.

"Just... Wait for me!"

Archaic Circuitry: Old Code, Young Blood

Name: Xander ‘Elio’ Swallowtail
Age: 28
Species: Numan
Height/Weight: 5'7" - 142 lbs.
Sex/Gender: Male
Appearance:

Elio

Numan Characteristics: Iridecent Eyes, Small patches of tan-colored fur dotting the body

Personality:Elio has a more analytical and detached approach when dealing with others as if he doesn't want to involve them in anything personal. In other words, he’s scared of slipping up. He has a debt-based mentality and an unhealthy obsession with “what is due” to others. He goes by the alias “Elio”, so as not to feel inclined to give what is personal to him.

What Are You Looking For?: “I don't know why that’s important, but fine. I’ve got this group I’m a part of, and I… got myself in a bit of debt. If I die out there, fine, no one liked my ugly mug anyway, If I can pay off my debt, even better.”

Capabilities: JOB//: Mechanic, COM-STYLE//: Spear Combat, KINETIC//: Scrapokinesis

Magic Form(s): Junk

• Basic Kinesis ability: Minor Metallokinesis (Metal Telekinesis)
  
  • Magic Stain: Rusted metal filaments have begun sticking to his skin, making it an annoyance to work with machines.
• First Spell: “Sharp Points” - Allows Elio to sharpen the end (an area equal to 5 square inches) of a piece of metal up to a 900 on a BESS sharpness scale.
  
  • Magic Stain: Rusted metal has begun embedding itself into Elio’s skin, building up with the use of his magic. It’s painful, to say the least.

Archaic Circuitry: Old Code, Young Blood

Name: Xander ‘Elio’ Swallowtail
Age: 28
Species: Numan
Height/Weight: 5'7" - 142 lbs.
Sex/Gender: Male
Appearance:

Elio

Personality:Elio has a more analytical and detached approach when dealing with others as if he doesn't want to involve them in anything personal. In other words, he’s scared of slipping up. He has a debt-based mentality and an unhealthy obsession with “what is due” to others. He goes by the alias “Elio”, so as not to feel inclined to give what is personal to him.

What Are You Looking For?: “I don't know why that’s important, but fine. I’ve got this group I’m a part of, and I… got myself in a bit of debt. If I die out there, fine, no one liked my ugly mug anyway, If I can pay off my debt, even better.”

Capabilities: JOB//: Mechanic, COM-STYLE//: Spear Combat, KINETIC//: Scrapokinesis

Magic Form(s): Junk

• Basic Kinesis ability: Minor Metallokinesis (Metal Telekinesis)
  
  • Magic Stain: Rusted metal filaments have begun sticking to his skin, making it an annoyance to work with machines.
• First Spell: “Sharp Points” - Allows Elio to sharpen the end (an area equal to 5 square inches) of a piece of metal up to a 900 on a BESS sharpness scale.
  
  • Magic Stain: Rusted metal has begun embedding itself into Elio’s skin, building up with the use of his magic. It’s painful, to say the least.

From Realms Beyond — An Isekai Crossover RP (Now Accepting)

---

♪

Peace is broken, yet again.

The Phantom Theif wasn't surprised at this point, no good thing ever lasted long. As tensions rose his senses became more alert, his eyes sticking to the living tree and the girl with glowing scissors...

Guess I'm going to be seeing quite a bit of weird stuff as time goes on... Though I should have expected that... Joker's thoughts chimed, his focus shifting to the slimes that put on the assault on the village. Tactics would make sense here, and thus he followed the orders of the Space Knight.

"On it!" He calls as he rushes off, hurriedly putting his coat back on so it is not inevitably lost somewhere... He went the opposite direction as Lewa, if they were going to flank the mass, then it would be best to cut them off from both ends, encircle them, and devour them from the outside in...

Like an amoeba catching its prey.

Blade drawn, piercing the air as well as flesh... or sludge in this case.

Cutting down slimes felt strange, to say the least, like quartering Kanten... It was effective, but the underlying fear of them reassembling themselves loomed over his mind...

He had to do something to make sure they stayed down...

Like draining whatever lifeblood they had.

I am thou, and thou art I...

Ripping off the mask, the blue flames of rebellion flaring forth, as Joker unleashed a new trick hidden up his sleeve...

Life Drain.

Arsene's arms lay outstretched as he plunged his blade into one of the formless creatures, as purple ichor seeped from it, staining his blade... Invigorating himself as he imbued its stolen lifeblood with his own...

Thanks for the boost... Remilia.

From Realms Beyond — An Isekai Crossover RP (Now Accepting)

---

Joker gave a small chuckle at the halfling witch-knight's joke before the questions revolving around the possible scarcity of their powers brought him to thought. Fran's description of her power, or rather existence as a whole, these 'Servants' reminded him of the Personas that he and his ragtag band of friends had awakened... Though it seemed that they sparked from the same realm of mind, they were summoned in different ways... unless he was wrong.

"Huh... Seems oddly familiar. I suppose you and Arsene are in the same boat then, more or less, but you don't need someone to awaken you, or summon you in general?"