ERode

Iris Ascendis

Schemes do be scheming.

@Nanaya I plan on Otis doing a bit of a speech when the students start bum-rushing inside. How do you want me to handle that sorta thing, with regards to your own update-post?

Iris Ascendis

_{@Nanaya@Estylwen@AThousandCurses@Sifr@Psyker Landshark}

In darkness, Otis observed the end of this play.

Ciara was monstrous after all. He would maintain good relations with her and, if need be, pick the option of maximum annihilation if he had to kill her. Nothing less than that would suit someone who fully embodied their moniker of shadow-witch, not when she could deliver a true silence to the swarm of puppet-warriors.

Davil too, possessed something more than just excitable, heroic energy. The Strigidae had presumed a speech. Grand gesticulations, perhaps a brandishing of that chainsaw katana again. Goofball tactics. But though he could not hear what was being exchanged within the enclosed space of the barrier, the motions spoke for themselves. Davil, perhaps, also had a mask. Otis would recalibrate in response.

And finally, the paladin. By all rights, she should be dead. By all rights, if Gulliver had even the slightest instinct for close combat, she’d be the one lying down there. But she was the one standing in the end, even when her Ethos had burnt out entirely, even when her nerves ought to have been fried out. Otis didn’t trust in such ephemeral abstractions as determination and the power of will. He’ll have to find an opportunity to dissect her.

But that opportunity, and many others, would have to wait. The Master had fallen, and with it, the Mannekins would too. There were no more obstructions for the countless other students who sought out the auditorium, and when they reached it, what would they see? So few chairs. So few spots. In the gloom, he caught two of those who participated in the fight already relaxing, already focused on recuperation instead of preparation. Foolish. He would let them rot, if it wasn’t for the fact that he owed at least one of them something for their contribution.

And thus, the thought passed through, from the Seeker to the Hunger.

“Take all the chairs and toss them into my Door. The others don’t have enough strength to fight for twenty minutes over these chairs, especially if Ethos are introduced.” They could escape the chaos that had erupted at the top of the bridge, but they couldn’t escape the auditorium. If a brawl broke out, they would be caught in the action, no matter where they were. “Don’t leave a single one behind, Ciara. If you can’t retrieve them in time, destroy them.”

As the plan formulated between the accomplices, Otis himself was already heading up to the stage, hurriedly brushing off the wooden chips that had gotten caught in his clothes. What happened next would work out best if he could impress upon them an aura of authority. He needed to look perfect for what came after. And right now? What he needed was order.

“Davil! Help get the others up onto the stage and seat them down. That includes Gulliver. The rest of you, patch yourselves up. Ciara, join us once you’re done, and I’ll open the windows once more.” He stripped quickly, taking off his coat and his hat, running his fingers through his hair to smooth it out and slick it back. “Sit tall and be proud. If any of you show weakness at this stage, I’m throwing you to the wolves!”

What he needed was a perfect deception, to shed his position as a student and take on the mantle of an adjudicator.

Children of the Otherworld - An Isekai Story

@TheNoCoKid CS done.

I'll give you free reign to decide the reincarnation.

Iris Ascendis

@Nanaya Otis is gonna check the time. What’s it looking like?

Children of the Otherworld - An Isekai Story

Old World

Captain Belo

_{44 y/o | 6'5 | 269 lbs}

"My friend, it ain't chess, but it ain't a job for brutes."

Job

"Captain"

Cause of Death

"Drowning"

Background

There was the village, the wilds, and the ocean.

That was all he knew as a child, the eldest son of an impoverished family of fishermen. He could draw nets at the same pace he learned to walk, and he sailed with his father upon those sky-blue waves when he could understand language and motive. The family had to eat and so did the village. It only made sense to do their part best they could for the betterment of all, for who would be fool enough to hoard more than what they could consume? The largest man of the village didn’t account for much if any two others came up with sticks and stones. Knives made it even easier, if one was willing to up the ante. Fish and humans both spilled their guts after a single swing in the right place, even if one flopped around more than the other.

That was what he was born in, and he had no reason to believe it would ever change.

But the world was connected by the ocean, and what waves made in one part of the world would inevitably reach the other. Even as they ate the same amount, fished the same amount, the yield grew less and less. More ships travelled in the distance, trawling the seas, crossing the waters. And in-land, gunfire and explosions could be heard more and more frequently, the thunder that rolled over cloudless plains. The lands were lawless, but there were those who sought to instate laws regardless, who sought control over those who they’ve never even shared a meal with before. The largest man didn’t account for much if any two others came up with sticks and stones, but two others would be far from enough if the individual had an automatic firearm.

The village could no longer be allowed to exist on its own. It had to be part of a nation now, had to use the national currency, had to pay for the right to live on the land, had to report to officials with more fuel and bullets than common sense and respect for their fellow man.

His father was incensed, but himself? He wasn’t so set in the old ways. If fishing wasn’t enough, then there was another option for someone born to break the waves.

Piracy.

And Captain Belo was good at it.

He was already big, and he ate to get even bigger, understanding that even in the age of projectile weapons, there was nothing quite as intimidating as sheer mass to the human psyche. He learned the language of his victims, affecting himself with the accent of their leaders, for this was no crime he committed, but rather a business transaction. He remained generous, even as his activities estranged himself from his family, and the breadth of his heart made him popular in the markets whenever he needed investors to chip in on his business ventures. Others were more savage, more brutal, but with that unfettered violence came that risk of simply being conned. Captain Belo though? His name travelled as his activities did. He dressed well, possessed good manners, and his crew suffered the fewest casualties out at sea. They trusted him, and he rewarded them for their trust in kind.

It was a golden time, just as brilliant as those days in his youth, when all he had to think about was the day’s catch. He once caught fish, then he caught ships.

Now, however? He couldn’t catch either.

International patrols made his job more and more dangerous. The provisional government no longer condoned such activities, in exchange for foreign aid. The markets were frequented by less investors, and those he once knew had to turn upon their own kind in order to set food on the table. Foreign elements strengthened their foothold upon the arid lands, and when he returned to his village, to his home, he found that he had been sending money back to a ghost town.

The fisheries had dried up. Foreign vessels had won the war, and nothing remained but an old, sun-bleached skiff, laid upon the sands

He sat there for a bit. Considered the invitations he had received. There was always a need for a singular package of muscles and brains. He spoke the language of foreign merchants well, had a level-headed attitude, and could be relied upon to deliver and share. Though it would be a den of snakes he strode into, they would not bite him.

But he was a man of the sea. Caves didn’t suit him.

And so, Belo set the skiff in the waters, gripped the well-worn handle of the paddle, and began to row, off upon a voyage which he would not return from.

---

Belo

_{6'9 | 169 lbs
Orc Grunt | Drasil}

"Ah, hell. Another world where me and mine are treated as vermin."

Children of the Otherworld - An Isekai Story

Go nuclear.

Be Rudeus pre-isekai.

Iris Ascendis

getting close enough to the young Bronsteel to almost touch noses, looking right into his eyes

Now kiss.

Children of the Otherworld - An Isekai Story

So, presumably anything beneath Vecta Form isn't filled out until after we reincarnate?

Iris Ascendis

Take it easy best you can, Sifr. Not worth overextending for a hobby when you can't even secure sleep.

Children of the Otherwold (An isekai rp with a twist!)

Could just be as simple as everyone being brought into the new world at the same place, before they're then given free reign to go head out in a group or alone.