Avatar of Emeth

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12 mos ago
Current The last time I sent my picture to someone... oh wait, I've never done that.
2 likes
1 yr ago
I will never emotionally recover from the knowledge that Fire Emblem Awakening could have been a Pokemon crossover instead of a waifu simulator.
2 likes
1 yr ago
I can't find the brain anywhere inside this fog, chief. I think the brain has evaporated. It has become the fog itself.
1 yr ago
Psst. uBlock Origin doesn't have this "we've detected an ad blocker" problem. They also don't literally let companies pay them off to allow their ads through, like some other ad "blockers" out there.
2 likes
1 yr ago
The ideal number of RPs depends entirely on how active you expect your partners to be, and your own mental bandwidth for keeping track of characters and story threads.
7 likes

Bio

A late twenties/early thirties, they/them something-or-other who's been doing this writing thing on and off since my teens. When I need to blow off some steam, I play the kinds of games that would make the average Dark Souls fan scream with rage. Aside from those two hobbies, I don't make time for much. My roleplaying is probably the most social I'll ever be across the internet, but hopefully that's what you're here for. Time Zone: +9, Korea/Japan/Australia. Hello American night shifters.

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Torpor and lore
Cynthia Schovajsa


Cynthia looked around at the other champions as they completed their preparations. She was already prepared, having just left her own battlefield to join them on this quest. If she had any preparations left to make, Dominus would have never let her hear the end of it. She noted the lack of fear in the three delicate-looking ladies as they declared their readiness to Amaterasu. The way Dominus acted, Cynthia was dreading having to carry the other champions on her back, but given their confidence, it seemed that might not be the case after all. As she stepped through the portal, she smirked a bit. Shin'za and his lord had an infectious attitude. She was almost looking forward to this, now.

Dominus glanced at Amaterasu as she spoke, but didn't say anything. His world was close to one of the other three infected worlds, and the rest of the gods knew it. However, it had already been decided that this world was a higher priority, and there was no use reigniting the same argument again. So, he remained silent, looking at Amaterasu's device with his arms crossed. How long would it be until his world would reclaim such technological prowess? He looked forward to finding out. Now, he just hoped his world would get that chance.



As Cynthia exited the portal into the research facility, she involuntarily shivered. Images flashed through her mind; genetic memory of a place she'd never been to had been intentionally left buried deep in the DNA of her hybrid species. It reminded her that she existed because of the genetic experiments of her cold-blooded ancestors. Yes. You are a weapon. Stay sharp like one, she mentally chided herself, in a voice that sounded like Dominus, blended with her own. She let out a long exhale, turning up the heat of the magical gemstones in her jacket to provide just a bit more warmth as she composed herself.

She took in Mitsuko's advice, looking around at the weapons available. Some, she could tell, were heavily advanced firearms. In her world, the most advanced artillery she'd ever operated were a musket and cannon. It wasn't going to be easy to learn how to effectively use them in a short time span. Instead, her eyes settled on a curved, single-edged sword with magic runes she didn't recognize carved into it. As soon as she grabbed it, it vibrated slightly and crackled with red sparks, which caused the hair on the back of Cynthia's neck to stand on end. After some fiddling with her mana, she managed to get it to stop, only charging with energy in brief intervals as she tested the weight, swinging it around halfheartedly.

Suddenly, a vampire-looking creature appeared, introducing itself. Cynthia was not put at ease by this action, as vampires on her own homeworld were notoriously polite little mass murderers. She pointed her newly acquired blade—which she didn't know the name of—at him while the others welcomed him. She glanced at them with a look as though they were the crazy ones, but she eventually relented. He was quite outnumbered and would have to be a fool to attack them, and Mitsuko insisted this place was undetectable. "Well met," she said simply, in defeat. Quietly, she was frustrated that she was having to take everyone else's word on everything. She felt like a novice once again. Perhaps, that was Dominus's angle in sending her here. It seemed an optimistic assumption, though.

Finally, she turned her attention to Illistrianna, and the flasks she's found. Cynthia couldn't read the label, either. Nonetheless, she took one, opening it up and sniffing its contents. She only considered her next action for a second. "Quite potent," she remarked, before chugging the contents. Now, she was the one getting glances, as if she were the crazy one. Appropriately, she made a sound as if she were disgusted. "Like exthpired cough thyrup," she remarked, gagging slightly.
At last, Rika's shadow arm retracted down the hall towards her. As it grabbed one of the last two beasts, she felt conflicted. Even in spite of the deferential attitude she'd displayed thus far, she did consider herself at least a little experienced, but already on her first team assignment a new weakness she didn't know she had was being revealed: how easily she and her shadow arm could be separated if she wasn't careful about staying close to it. This frustrated her to no end, but it thankfully didn't show on her face.

It did, however, show through just a bit in how she handled the remaining two beasts. "Thanks. I got it now," she said calmly as she lifted up the beast she'd grabbed by its legs and smacked the other beast with it, wielding its body like a sap. She stood there, hand casually in her pocket, quietly watching the carnage as her decoy dolls slipped away back to the entrance. Internally, she was taking out her disappointment in herself on the two giant dogs. At least she was trying not to hit any of the walls.


Day 1 Time: Dusk/Evening Weather: Light Rain Location: Harold's Academy, Ivar Commons/Main Ballroom Participants: Raffaella Struna, Kaspaan Mustaven, @Deja Sylvia Copeland, @LuckyBlackCat Taegan Granlock @Crimson Flame





Nooo~! I don't wanna gooo~! Raffaella had pleaded—somewhat fussily and with mist in her eyes—to her lifeline, Tessa. Raffaella had scarcely begun to settle into her new life and get her feet wet at the academy yet. She knew pretty much nobody, yet was already being tasked with dressing up and going to a social event; it was sure to be hard on her. Tessa knew how to keep her shy little wall flower motivated, though. With the promise of a "sweet reward," she'd been gently persuaded to go. Of course, she loved her sugary treats, but she loved a mystery even more—a little fact that Tessa had subtly picked up on in the few short months they'd spent writing back and forth leading up to Raffaella's orientation, and in the days since. Still, there had been some haggling involved. She didn't need to talk to anyone if she didn't want to; Tessa just wanted her to be there. With that settled, Ra'fel agreed to give the preparations her all.

The dress was, as suited her, predominantly pink, with white accent, and very frilly. White and wine-colored rose patterns decorated it. It came with a matching shawl that covered her arms and upper body like a blanket. A medium-sized red ribbon in front, and a large one in the back completed the set. Stepping into her rose-colored heels, she gazed into the mirror, blinking. She was almost standing at a somewhat normal five feet tall, now—what a weird feeling! Finally, she put on her mask—a gift from her father—a blush pink colored one to match her look, with little diamonds carefully placed to accent the corners of her eyes. She also wore, on her head, a small, wine-colored thing that her mother called a "cocktail hat." It was covered in feathers and reminded her of a dreamcatcher. She was wearing a dreamcatcher on her head. "I look silly," she remarked quietly to herself, pouting in the mirror in disbelief. Still, she'd promised Tessa she would go, and that was that. "Time to go, Pooka," she whispered sullenly, gathering up the ball of white mossy fur in her arms.

Despite her eye-catching appearance, her walk down to the ballroom was uneventful. Nobody looked at her, yet they cleanly avoided her without thinking, like one with cortical blindness avoids obstacles while walking without being able to actually see them. For Ra'fel, this was normal life. Unless she did something crazy, she wouldn't be noticed—but, that was fine with her. She was shy and didn't want to be noticed, especially not in this ostentatious getup. So she walked, her rare albino gupoo with pink daisies as her sole traveling companion. As she did, the ephemeral threads she called "heartstrings" tickled her body uncomfortably as they phased through her, giving a sensation not unlike walking through cobwebs. This was yet another reason why she disliked crowded places. Inevitably, people who were connected on a spiritual level but physically apart would create heartstrings in her path that she'd just have to walk through. As long as she didn't touch them with her hands, they'd remain mostly incorporeal, thankfully. It's for this reason that she kept her hands to herself at all times.

At last, she made it to the ball, or at least, the ballroom. It seemed as if nothing had actually started yet, except for the food on offer. The smell made her hungry, but she didn't want to get in trouble for eating before everyone else. Thankfully, she hoarded sweets on her person for just such occasions. Holding Pooka under one arm, she retrieved a little paper bag from inside her shawl and opened it up. She stuffed the strawberry shortcake swiss roll into her mouth, her cheeks tingling with delight. "Mm~!" As she enjoyed her little snack, she looked around the room at the unfamiliar faces. There was one absolutely, terrifyingly tall man—lady—person? —that she was glad she wouldn't have to talk to. There was also the energetic cait girl that Ra'fel was tempted to talk to, but couldn't get past her shyness. Then, there was...

"...Boss Kass?! Is that you?! No way!" she blurted out in shock.

With a sound like a prolonged, forlorn sigh, the spot in which she stood became hazy, shimmering like the illusion of an oasis in the desert. Gradually, Raffaella became visible, standing there in her ballroom dress and cocktail hat, wide-eyed with shock as she stared at Kaspaan, remnants of the icing from her pastry gracing her pale cheeks. Suddenly, everyone remembered that there was a new addition to the House of Ivar, a petite and cute but desperately shy girl named Raffaella. She stood there, frozen, her face pale as death, bordering on translucent. A younger student body could have been convinced that they'd seen a ghost. However, as the reality of her outburst gradually seemed to sink in, the life inside of her became apparent as her cheeks flushed pink. Terrified by the new sets of eyes on her, she suddenly squeezed her pet gupoo, causing the poor creature's eyes to bulge slightly, and its body to shiver, creating a small cloud of pollen.

"Hwa... ababa..." she stammered, trying not to sneeze. "Het—chieuw!" she squeaked into her hapless pet.

"...S-Sorry," she apologized to no one in particular. Trembling with fright, she hid her face behind the fuzzy puff ball in her arms.



"What's the most dangerous thing you've ever done?"

Cynthia Schovajsa, Reptilian War Queen

Mm. I charged blindly into a blizzard. Complete white out. Toward cannon fire. It could have been anything. I took my chance that it were mere infantry. It ought to have been one of the mechanized behemoth called golem. It would have been my death, to bring a mere five of mine home in one piece. ...I'd do it again.

...My niece. Dead, from friendly fire. No one to blame or kill in revenge. I took no punitive action. My family called me weak. What would you have done?
With the beast trapped in Rika's grasp thoroughly pasted, she no longer had a "shield" to protect her. That wouldn't do, of course, and so she swept low at the monster-class demon with a grabbing motion from her giant arm, hoping to at least goad him into jumping straight into Natsumi's fire attack, and distract him from whatever nonsense Andrea was up to. Unlike the posturing, cocky foe who stood before them, Andrea at least acted somewhat serious in Rika's estimation, so she hoped Andrea wasn't just playing with her food.

Then the fireballs reached her end of the hall. Thankfully, she had left some distance between her and the monster, giving her some time to absorb the pattern of their attack. She skillfully danced out of the way of the incoming projectiles, unwilling to experience even a fraction of the pain of being burned alive. As she dodged, she hopped backwards, trying to keep up with Akira as she retreated. As the smoke cleared, though, Rika could see three more of the beasts charging her. "Aw, der'mo," she swore. "Uh, Emi-san?" she said somewhat urgently as the three approached. The two Rika dolls left at the entrance they'd used abandoned their posts, charging into the construction site to provide their maker with some backup. If her grab missed, she was about to be in a bad spot.
"What traits do you like finding in your peers?"

Ashley Wycliffe, Cursemaker

Hmm. That's a good question. I don't have very many peers, as cursemaker is an unpopular profession.

...Oh? I suppose an explanation is in order, then.

You can think of it as a magical equivalent to a clockmaker. Only replace gears with magic circles and you have the gist of it, though it's vastly more complex if I may be so bold. It also carries much the same moral dilemma as a locksmith's skill set. Breaking curses is an ugly affair, one that results in unpredictable and untold amounts of human suffering. It's much safer to reverse them, but doing so requires reverse engineering. Hence, my profession—but it is one that is tolerated, not celebrated. The state recognizes me as an expert in magical maladies, and I carry the title of "doctor," but the church and much of the population see me only as a glorified witch. The knowledge I possess could easily be put to evil purposes. So, I suppose what I'd like to see is more honest cursemakers. The ones I know of are no better than witches. One curses, another cures—both split the money. It's quite a racket. I charge very little, and that angers them, as it takes away from their so-called business. It's made my life quite difficult, but that's how I like it. The struggle reminds me that I'm still alive, despite how dead the darkness makes me feel inside. ...Sorry, I've rambled quite a bit, haven't I?

I suppose my question is a bit silly, coming from a dark mage. Have you ever had an unrequited love? How did you deal with that?
I feel sorry for Lhoren and Raf, they are both too precious.

I mean, I don't think it's impossible, but expect the sappiest, most innocent, wholesome puppy love that would make Walt Disney blush.

Get in the Kotatsu, grab some hot cocoa and fresh mandarins, and enjoy the cozy vibes.

"Reconnaissance complete, boss! Here are the results! ...Hey, this info is really important to me, okay?!"
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