So when IC?
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Real RPers make bad decisions and then double down on em afterwards, Thousand. How real are you?
Also, for other interested parties, quick Character Sheet template if anyone wants to get started early. It's not gonna be anything more complex than this, but I'll probably add sections as the RP goes on.
Also, for other interested parties, quick Character Sheet template if anyone wants to get started early. It's not gonna be anything more complex than this, but I'll probably add sections as the RP goes on.
Monday, July 5, 2027.
Summer struck Japan with the weight of a hammer: not with heat, but with storm. Rumbling clouds burst with sheets of rain, drowning the coast of the Kochi prefecture. Late summer blooms bent beneath the weight of water, sewer drains flooded and overflowed. Coastal winds whipped against windows and umbrellas, and even seagulls took shelter beneath eaves. It was a day that begged for truancy.
But the bus still arrived at the stop you’ve always waited at, and so, you entered.
It was July 5 and the bus was as crowded as it could be in a town so small as this, filled with scattered cliques of faces you recognized. All a part of Saga Junior High School. In a week, final exams for the third-year students would begin. A week after that, the only reason for caring about grades at all in junior high would manifest.
From a graduating class of 50 students, 12 of them would be selected to homestay abroad to New Zealand.
In a town like Kuroshio, this would be your only way to get out. To see the world beyond the setting sun, and then, perhaps from there, to use it as part of your applications to study at a high school that wasn’t in the middle of nowhere. Tokyo called for your soul. Bustling metropolises with enough people to intoxicate on atmosphere alone. International schools with international repute, enough to catapult you to the world further beyond! That's the only reason why you, and so many others, were crammed together in this old-ass bus, after all. There were teachers to get into the good graces of. Materials to study. Quizzes to do. Effort to be shown! Indeed, in the week before exams, every second mattered.
So you flipped through your damp notes. Plugged in your earbuds. Checked docs on your smartphone. Traded trivia with friends and rivals alike. Leaned against a window to catch a quick nap. The bus's engine rumbled on, through winding mountain paths, and you swayed to-
...
..
.
The headache hit you like a hammer, but the heat hit harder.
It was the heat of mid-August, a dry heat that you had never experienced on the coasts of your hometown. You try to pick yourself up, only to find that your body was entangled with another's. No, looking around you now, you see that everyone had toppled over, one way or the other. The front of the bus had smashed against the trunk of a tree, window turned opaque by the myriad of fractures. It was an accident. But it was more than an accident.
Because beyond the bus, the wilderness you witnessed was not what you could ever recognize as the prefecture you had spent your entire life in.
Because within your mind, in an instance of clarity, you understood exactly what had happened.
This was another world.
This was a Dungeon.
Summer struck Japan with the weight of a hammer: not with heat, but with storm. Rumbling clouds burst with sheets of rain, drowning the coast of the Kochi prefecture. Late summer blooms bent beneath the weight of water, sewer drains flooded and overflowed. Coastal winds whipped against windows and umbrellas, and even seagulls took shelter beneath eaves. It was a day that begged for truancy.
But the bus still arrived at the stop you’ve always waited at, and so, you entered.
It was July 5 and the bus was as crowded as it could be in a town so small as this, filled with scattered cliques of faces you recognized. All a part of Saga Junior High School. In a week, final exams for the third-year students would begin. A week after that, the only reason for caring about grades at all in junior high would manifest.
From a graduating class of 50 students, 12 of them would be selected to homestay abroad to New Zealand.
In a town like Kuroshio, this would be your only way to get out. To see the world beyond the setting sun, and then, perhaps from there, to use it as part of your applications to study at a high school that wasn’t in the middle of nowhere. Tokyo called for your soul. Bustling metropolises with enough people to intoxicate on atmosphere alone. International schools with international repute, enough to catapult you to the world further beyond! That's the only reason why you, and so many others, were crammed together in this old-ass bus, after all. There were teachers to get into the good graces of. Materials to study. Quizzes to do. Effort to be shown! Indeed, in the week before exams, every second mattered.
So you flipped through your damp notes. Plugged in your earbuds. Checked docs on your smartphone. Traded trivia with friends and rivals alike. Leaned against a window to catch a quick nap. The bus's engine rumbled on, through winding mountain paths, and you swayed to-
...
..
.
The headache hit you like a hammer, but the heat hit harder.
It was the heat of mid-August, a dry heat that you had never experienced on the coasts of your hometown. You try to pick yourself up, only to find that your body was entangled with another's. No, looking around you now, you see that everyone had toppled over, one way or the other. The front of the bus had smashed against the trunk of a tree, window turned opaque by the myriad of fractures. It was an accident. But it was more than an accident.
Because beyond the bus, the wilderness you witnessed was not what you could ever recognize as the prefecture you had spent your entire life in.
Because within your mind, in an instance of clarity, you understood exactly what had happened.
This was another world.
This was a Dungeon.
Eyo, so this thing is basically just to help me get my fix for a particular sorta isekai thingy, which is fundamentally portal isekai based off of Solo Leveling and the like. Except, considering the situation, this may be a touch more similar to the Drifting Classroom.
I'm looking for a group of people who can post weekly, and who understand that this is going to be a RP that I'm pretty sure will end within a year if the weekly post pace is maintained. The situation will develop somewhat rapidly, because I really just want an ending kek.
Some extra tidbits that are awkward to place:
Your character is a third-year junior high student from Kuroshio Ogata Junior High School, in the Shikoku prefecture of Japan. Ideally, they should have something that makes them exceptional as an individual, but this doesn't necessarily have to be anything that makes them super useful in an isekai survival situation. They could just be really good at yo yo tricks.
Earth is plagued as a whole with Portals that pop up in reality, and the monsters that spill out as a result. Usually, specialized military forces are sent inside the Portals to clear the Dungeons and ultimately close the Portals...but as junior high students, most of what you'd really know about it is from all the media that pops up surrounding these real-life anime shenanigans. You can think of the isekai genre as something that now also gets 'based on a real life story' movies.
There will be no fantasy civilization that they come across in this Dungeon. Though there is a form of 'magic', there won't be any cheat abilities popping up. Outside of the bus driver, no one else has died, so you'll have a hefty group of fellow students to help with survival tasks n all. Or to sacrifice to monsters as bait. Depends on how you want your character be psychologically at the end of this.
Earth is plagued as a whole with Portals that pop up in reality, and the monsters that spill out as a result. Usually, specialized military forces are sent inside the Portals to clear the Dungeons and ultimately close the Portals...but as junior high students, most of what you'd really know about it is from all the media that pops up surrounding these real-life anime shenanigans. You can think of the isekai genre as something that now also gets 'based on a real life story' movies.
There will be no fantasy civilization that they come across in this Dungeon. Though there is a form of 'magic', there won't be any cheat abilities popping up. Outside of the bus driver, no one else has died, so you'll have a hefty group of fellow students to help with survival tasks n all. Or to sacrifice to monsters as bait. Depends on how you want your character be psychologically at the end of this.
So ye. I like questions so feel free to hit me up with that, alongside any immediate character concepts that come to mind. Depending on the question, I'll have to keep the silence though. Some stuff is just there for people to find out.
~1435 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE
As it was, Saint George was taking a much needed vacation, watching a Broadway production of She Kills Monsters with his pet rat. And what was there to worry about anyways? If a dragon was dead, it couldn’t have made for that big of a threat. Now the living dragons, those were the ones to be afraid of!
…
Not that the ramblings of a bygone saint meant much to the present situation.
Unseen and unheard, Edward was lost in his own little world as he sketched away at the skeletal dragon, noting the fantastical nature of its structure. Despite evidently taking its cue from fantasy and mythology, the size of the creature and the length of its skeleton-limbs seemed to beggar disbelief at how viable it truly was. If this truly was the ghost of a dead dragon, it certainly wouldn’t be able to fly, and its skull too seemed more reminiscent of a child’s approximation of a dinosaur than anything else. This, at least, despite its fearsome visage and impressive gouts of phantasmal flame, didn’t seem to match the necromancer’s own image of a city-destroying reptile…but perhaps that was for the better.
The beast continued to stalk its quarry, snaking around and warding off the ghostly parade that Celeste Arnaux attracted. Despite the tension around her, however, the pink-haired model handled herself well. Back straight, smile always on, she greeted guests and journalists one by one, the spotlights interspersed through the venue always seeming to catch her at just the right lighting to give her that sort of graceful yet dramatic mien. It reminded the reaper, for a moment, of Miss Death’s own countenance, yet wielded to a more exacting, deliberate effect. But beneath the exterior of an eminent fashion model laid too an uncertain fear. Her eyes traced the shadows interlacing with the crowds. Glided over the spotlights and the rafters. Searching, perhaps, for a sign of the fatal misfortune that had stalked her.
And then, stopping.
Vera could read it there, reflected in the woman’s blue eyes. Surprise. Recognition. And then…
The woman excused herself from her acquaintances, her steps gaining a click-clackering tempo as she maneveured herself through the room, each movement a bit faster than the next. The dragon trailed her, jaws swinging open, but the parade recognized the threat at a glance, the possibility of total annihilation.
Lucian saw her, of course. Saw Celeste walking right towards him, staring right at him.
But he was eating cheese. As in, the cheese was in his mouth. As in, there shouldn’t be any floating cheese in the air, so he should totally just be invisible, which meant that she was obviously just looking at someone behind him.
Until, of course, she grabbed his very tangible wrist and pulled him away with her off to an isolated corner of the venue. All it took was a few seconds, and she was looking at him once more, her eyes now mixed with shock and…something more calculating.
“Lucian! Mon dieu, you’re supposed to be dead!”
…
Reddish-brown hair, parted and combed.
A well-tailored suit, one that yet managed to accentuate his decidedly average build.
And, most interestingly, a set of green eyes. The green of a murky lake.
Close to the stage, a young man watched the happenings in that isolated corner.
Then, he turned to the woman by his side and took her hand in his. Skin against leather.
They’d begin, soon.
Ok, but OWO, consider.
Identity
“You don’t need math for murder.”
The 10th District was no place for a child to be, but where there were humans, there would be children. In the gutters and alleyways, sheltered or abandoned, all as one toiled away at the factories of the crown-magistrates or fell in line with the professional criminals who preyed upon the helpless and principals. Monsters lurked in shadows, lurked in the alleyways, lurked in the dumpsters, and lurked in your lunchbox.
Yasu too, would have fallen prey to such monsters, if not for a single difference.
When she was seven years old, she saw her reflection in a shattered mirror. And that alone was enough to change her world.
Soon after, rumors of the Tiger Cub spread. A child wielding an iron pipe, one who could take on men thrice her height. One whose form flickered and changed, like channels switching on TV. One who stole and ate, who was in perpetual solitude within the sinner’s city. And yet one who remained ever-so-happy, who possessed a smile that could not exist upon the lips of a resident of the 10th District. But how could she not smile?
She was never alone, and she always had a choice! She was freer than the richest oligarches in the 1st District, and even if she died, she would live on in her stead!
The shattered mirror gave her happiness and madness in turn. And all the while, her vitas continued to drain away, falling deep into the cracks of the city. Yasu was but a child of the 10th District. And who would teach a child what Magic truly was?
…
Was it coincidence or fate, that found a Cleaner placing a weapon in her hands as her vision began to blink in and out? Was it charity or curiosity, that found a Cleaner directly her to the shadows, the alleyways, the dumpsters, her lunchbox?
Monsters were real. They can bleed.
And if Yasu loved herself as much as she thought she did, then she would kill them to continue loving herself.
The 10th District was no place for a child to be, but where there were humans, there would be children. In the gutters and alleyways, sheltered or abandoned, all as one toiled away at the factories of the crown-magistrates or fell in line with the professional criminals who preyed upon the helpless and principals. Monsters lurked in shadows, lurked in the alleyways, lurked in the dumpsters, and lurked in your lunchbox.
Yasu too, would have fallen prey to such monsters, if not for a single difference.
When she was seven years old, she saw her reflection in a shattered mirror. And that alone was enough to change her world.
Soon after, rumors of the Tiger Cub spread. A child wielding an iron pipe, one who could take on men thrice her height. One whose form flickered and changed, like channels switching on TV. One who stole and ate, who was in perpetual solitude within the sinner’s city. And yet one who remained ever-so-happy, who possessed a smile that could not exist upon the lips of a resident of the 10th District. But how could she not smile?
She was never alone, and she always had a choice! She was freer than the richest oligarches in the 1st District, and even if she died, she would live on in her stead!
The shattered mirror gave her happiness and madness in turn. And all the while, her vitas continued to drain away, falling deep into the cracks of the city. Yasu was but a child of the 10th District. And who would teach a child what Magic truly was?
…
Was it coincidence or fate, that found a Cleaner placing a weapon in her hands as her vision began to blink in and out? Was it charity or curiosity, that found a Cleaner directly her to the shadows, the alleyways, the dumpsters, her lunchbox?
Monsters were real. They can bleed.
And if Yasu loved herself as much as she thought she did, then she would kill them to continue loving herself.
Armaments
Yasu has a sword. In her hands, it may be a two-handed sword, but in truth, it's short as these things go.
But it suits her well in its simplicity, sheathed as it is in her own vitas. No tricks. No gimmicks. Just strike down the monster with a swing, and leave the more esoteric ones to the other weirdos.
In the little room she has to herself up in the office, there still lies a rusty iron pipe, fit for the hands of a child smaller than even herself.
But it suits her well in its simplicity, sheathed as it is in her own vitas. No tricks. No gimmicks. Just strike down the monster with a swing, and leave the more esoteric ones to the other weirdos.
In the little room she has to herself up in the office, there still lies a rusty iron pipe, fit for the hands of a child smaller than even herself.
Abilities
Beyond the usual host of abilities that one could expect of a hunter of the supernatural, Yasu also, strangely enough, possesses the ability to read lips.
That's not what made her a Rank II Cleaner at the age of 14 though.
The magic that came to this child when she was but seven years old was the ability to see herself in alternate timelines, so long as the current situation was similar enough. Through this, she is able to swap herself with another self, ultimately allowing her to perform actions that are physically, logically, and temporally impossible. A swing from the right becomes a swing to the left. Motions to steal a wallet become motions to steal a watch. Of course, from the perspective of Yasu, it is the world that has suddenly changed around her, as she catapults herself through space and time to reach a place further than the universe she had always known.
But in the eyes of those around her?
Yasu is simply an airhead of a girl who too easily mixes up names and faces, possessing magic that makes her attacks nigh-incomprehensible.
That's not what made her a Rank II Cleaner at the age of 14 though.
The magic that came to this child when she was but seven years old was the ability to see herself in alternate timelines, so long as the current situation was similar enough. Through this, she is able to swap herself with another self, ultimately allowing her to perform actions that are physically, logically, and temporally impossible. A swing from the right becomes a swing to the left. Motions to steal a wallet become motions to steal a watch. Of course, from the perspective of Yasu, it is the world that has suddenly changed around her, as she catapults herself through space and time to reach a place further than the universe she had always known.
But in the eyes of those around her?
Yasu is simply an airhead of a girl who too easily mixes up names and faces, possessing magic that makes her attacks nigh-incomprehensible.
Identity
“You don’t need math for murder.”
The 10th District was no place for a child to be, but where there were humans, there would be children. In the gutters and alleyways, sheltered or abandoned, all as one toiled away at the factories of the crown-magistrates or fell in line with the professional criminals who preyed upon the helpless and principals. Monsters lurked in shadows, lurked in the alleyways, lurked in the dumpsters, and lurked in your lunchbox.
Yasu too, would have fallen prey to such monsters, if not for a single difference.
When she was seven years old, she saw her reflection in a shattered mirror. And that alone was enough to change her world.
Soon after, rumors of the Tiger Cub spread. A child wielding an iron pipe, one who could take on men thrice her height. One whose form flickered and changed, like channels switching on TV. One who stole and ate, who was in perpetual solitude within the sinner’s city. And yet one who remained ever-so-happy, who possessed a smile that could not exist upon the lips of a resident of the 10th District. But how could she not smile?
She was never alone, and she always had a choice! She was freer than the richest oligarches in the 1st District, and even if she died, she would live on in her stead!
The shattered mirror gave her happiness and madness in turn. And all the while, her vitas continued to drain away, falling deep into the cracks of the city. Yasu was but a child of the 10th District. And who would teach a child what Magic truly was?
…
Was it coincidence or fate, that found a Cleaner placing a weapon in her hands as her vision began to blink in and out? Was it charity or curiosity, that found a Cleaner directly her to the shadows, the alleyways, the dumpsters, her lunchbox?
Monsters were real. They can bleed.
And if Yasu loved herself as much as she thought she did, then she would kill them to continue loving herself.
The 10th District was no place for a child to be, but where there were humans, there would be children. In the gutters and alleyways, sheltered or abandoned, all as one toiled away at the factories of the crown-magistrates or fell in line with the professional criminals who preyed upon the helpless and principals. Monsters lurked in shadows, lurked in the alleyways, lurked in the dumpsters, and lurked in your lunchbox.
Yasu too, would have fallen prey to such monsters, if not for a single difference.
When she was seven years old, she saw her reflection in a shattered mirror. And that alone was enough to change her world.
Soon after, rumors of the Tiger Cub spread. A child wielding an iron pipe, one who could take on men thrice her height. One whose form flickered and changed, like channels switching on TV. One who stole and ate, who was in perpetual solitude within the sinner’s city. And yet one who remained ever-so-happy, who possessed a smile that could not exist upon the lips of a resident of the 10th District. But how could she not smile?
She was never alone, and she always had a choice! She was freer than the richest oligarches in the 1st District, and even if she died, she would live on in her stead!
The shattered mirror gave her happiness and madness in turn. And all the while, her vitas continued to drain away, falling deep into the cracks of the city. Yasu was but a child of the 10th District. And who would teach a child what Magic truly was?
…
Was it coincidence or fate, that found a Cleaner placing a weapon in her hands as her vision began to blink in and out? Was it charity or curiosity, that found a Cleaner directly her to the shadows, the alleyways, the dumpsters, her lunchbox?
Monsters were real. They can bleed.
And if Yasu loved herself as much as she thought she did, then she would kill them to continue loving herself.
Armaments
Yasu has a sword. In her hands, it may be a two-handed sword, but in truth, it's short as these things go.
But it suits her well in its simplicity, sheathed as it is in her own vitas. No tricks. No gimmicks. Just strike down the monster with a swing, and leave the more esoteric ones to the other weirdos.
In the little room she has to herself up in the office, there still lies a rusty iron pipe, fit for the hands of a child smaller than even herself.
But it suits her well in its simplicity, sheathed as it is in her own vitas. No tricks. No gimmicks. Just strike down the monster with a swing, and leave the more esoteric ones to the other weirdos.
In the little room she has to herself up in the office, there still lies a rusty iron pipe, fit for the hands of a child smaller than even herself.
Abilities
Beyond the usual host of abilities that one could expect of a hunter of the supernatural, Yasu also, strangely enough, possesses the ability to read lips.
That's not what made her a Rank II Cleaner at the age of 14 though.
The magic that came to this child when she was but seven years old was the ability to see herself in alternate timelines, so long as the current situation was similar enough. Through this, she is able to swap herself with another self, ultimately allowing her to perform actions that are physically, logically, and temporally impossible. A swing from the right becomes a swing to the left. Motions to steal a wallet become motions to steal a watch. Of course, from the perspective of Yasu, it is the world that has suddenly changed around her, as she catapults herself through space and time to reach a place further than the universe she had always known.
But in the eyes of those around her?
Yasu is simply an airhead of a girl who too easily mixes up names and faces, possessing magic that makes her attacks nigh-incomprehensible.
That's not what made her a Rank II Cleaner at the age of 14 though.
The magic that came to this child when she was but seven years old was the ability to see herself in alternate timelines, so long as the current situation was similar enough. Through this, she is able to swap herself with another self, ultimately allowing her to perform actions that are physically, logically, and temporally impossible. A swing from the right becomes a swing to the left. Motions to steal a wallet become motions to steal a watch. Of course, from the perspective of Yasu, it is the world that has suddenly changed around her, as she catapults herself through space and time to reach a place further than the universe she had always known.
But in the eyes of those around her?
Yasu is simply an airhead of a girl who too easily mixes up names and faces, possessing magic that makes her attacks nigh-incomprehensible.
It was unsurprising for the mausoleums of nobles to possess such finery. Just as it became the final resting place for the fallen, so too was it a museum in its own right, a place to foster a sense of belonging and pride to the descendants of such nobles. Marble statues, life-like yet larger than life, were granted to even minor members of the family, as if to state that their birth alone granted them the right to be enshrined, to be celebrated for as long as stone lasts. To be remembered, by the legacy they left behind, by the epitaph their loved ones engraved upon their headstones. Serenity too, had seen the mausoleum of the Arcedeens. Flawless walls, bedecked by lapis and silver. Legends carved down, so the learned could become enlightened. Murals depicting their finest moments, songs once sung still echoing down the long chambers, as one strode upon a myriad-patterned carpet to reach the very end, where the progenitor’s ashes laid, contained in a simple, unadorned pot.
‘From dirt we came, and to dirt we’ll return.’
It was privilege enough to be remembered. For the Lover Goddesses to grant one’s soul eternal rest. For the bodies that had trained, had bled, had worked for the kingdom to become intermingled with the soil from which Thaln drew its foundations. For one’s descendants to further hone your craft, reaching pinnacles that you could not comprehend.
And yet, there remained those who decided that it wasn’t enough.
Poor Veilena. Another of her ancestors lived only to besmirch her family’s name. Damon Cazt may be of a different evil compared to Anzel Cazt. He may hold himself to some higher standard, may disapprove of what the necromancer had done. But still. He was there, that blood-eyed vampire. Lounging against the grave that his family had built, conspiring with the blasphemers and criminals who sought the Princess’s assassination. He was no Paladin, who had pledged herself to the service of Mayon’s church, who had earned her forgiveness from Reon through unending service.
If there remained the possibility of pardon for this wretch, there was still a long way to go.
Serenity breathed. Felt Gerard’s hand on her shoulder. Heard the words he had to say.
And in response, she pressed her shield against his chest, until that idealist of a mercenary knew to grasp it in his own.
“I take it,” the lioness called, “that the girl still lives?”
"Of course. It wouldn't do much good to arrange a rescue party if she didn’t, would it?"
A living hostage was better than a dead one, for both parties, but such confirmation was still good. She did not turn to address her companions any further, only left them with parting words.
“We are shield and sword, to protect the innocent and purge the craven.” A pause, a silence broken by only the rasping of the shortsword from its sheathe. “The order is important here.” Perhaps it was the nerves that was causing it now, perhaps it was her adrenaline instead. “So why in Mayon’s name is it that only Sir Steffen and I thought to bring a shield, when we all knew that we’d have to rescue an innocent girl?”
In her right hand, the mace. In her left hand, the sword. Equal length weapons, but divergent in intention. Her eyes gleamed with a blue that the corpse before her could never appreciate again, and her sinew tautened, a steel coil building upon greater strength as her heart thrummed.
Now, she had but words for her enemy.
“I am Dame Serenity Arcedeen, of the Knights of the Iron Rose. Damon Cazt, your existence alone serves only to blacken the reputation of Lady Veilena Cazt. If remorse remains a sensation beneath your cold flesh, I recommend you pray to the Goddesses for forgiveness and take your own head.”
Her lips curled. A bloodless smile for a bloodless foe.
“And if not, then allow me to perform your final rites.”
Performative. It was enough that a human knight alone was able to take the time of an immortal. But if she was going to play, she may as well play to win.
How far do you have to get away from the city before you can see the stars?
A warrior of the north, armored with ensorcelled plate.
If this was all they had to fight, then she would gladly partake. But for all the might, all the prowess, all the wealth that this barbarian possessed, he was not a necromancer, nor even a hero on the battlefield. He was a nameless axeman who fought on the commands of a desecrator of the dead, a blasphemer of Reon’s decrees.
Two of the Iron Rose splintered off from the rest, forcing back the barbarian from his point at the entrance to the inner crypt. Sir Steffen and Sir Fleuri, a stable enough composition, so long as Flower reined in his more impulsive decisions. Even if they could only hold back the barbarian, that would be enough. Dame Cecilia called out her own positioning, and Serenity herself stepped in as well. The Ingvarr staying behind meant that, once more, there was only one shield to be ‘shared’ amongst all the remaining knights.
Her shield.
So she, of course, stepped to the front, shield raised for the unknown dangers further down.
“Captain, stay in the center with the archers. Sir Gerard, cover the rear.”
For worse, they were running out of proper knights to hold a formation with. For better, they would all have a greater share of the glory in the end.
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