ERode

Nocturnal Memoirs: An Urban-Fantasy Mafia Epic

To All Whom It May Concern,

The Sinners intend to go to War with the the BFC come Dawn (next IC Day). All Who wish to participate are recommended to pick their sides and coordinate with their respective members.

May the best Nocturnian win!

@Estylwen

I raise you:

Through the fear, through the heart that's broken
Our world lies in wait for me
Let me tear every scar left open
This is, the taming of the beast
I'll end this war you started
I'll stitch this wound with bloodshed

You are my wicked victory

Iris Ascendis

Oh, whoops. Will edit then.

Iris Ascendis

_@Nanaya

Well, that certainly did not help her defense.

And here, Otis had figured that Ciara got along better with Hildegunde than with Iraleth. Did the sting of a perceived betrayal cause her to lash out harder? Did knowledge of Hildegunde's Ethos force the shadow-witch's hand, preferring certainty over trusting the unknown? The Strigidae considered it, then discarded it. It simply made Ciara's defense that much harder. She had almost extinguished one classmate, shaved years off the life of another, and then somehow decided to fight against a full-blown Umbralist in order to protect a third. It brought to mind multiple personalities. It brought to mind someone who only made decisions in the heat of the moment, with no consideration to past or future. He glanced towards her, amber eyes like looking at a specimen on the other side of the glass, wondering what she was. Wondering if he could puzzle her out before the executioner's blade fell.

Shame about classes too.

Otis stepped into the carriage after Davil and Chunji, securing himself a seat on the side. It would be a two day trip with no promise of being allowed to utilize their essence during its entirety, but at least he'd have things to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied. While others found their own places inside, the owlkin removed his gloves, rummaged for his sewing kit, and, before the carriage began, threaded a needle with a strand of gold. There was space enough for embroidering details, at least, and he doubted Rio and Chunji were the aggressively space-consuming type.

My Hero Academia: Just Another Hero, Act 2

"Ehhhh?"

Kagari's protest sounded from the back of the room.

"Just let Kaiga skip if that's what he wants, Miss. It's not like he needs training."

Not that Kagari herself knew anything at all about her classmate's combat capabilities. It just kinda made sense that an Endeavor stan with fire powers would waste all his time doing bench presses and shitting out fire and all that kinda stuff. She barely blinked either when a malfunction occurred upon their homeroom teacher's holographic interface, only let out a sigh at the incompetence on display here. No wonder she got downgraded into 1B, if she couldn't even be bothered to customize the settings of her camera properly.

Well, the Technocon was exciting, at least. Even if she thought it kinda silly to be hosted in Otheon of all places, a country so small that it was basically only known for its singular 'main city' that didn't even have a standalone name. Like seriously? They couldn't have hosted it at a proper technological superpower? They decided to show off the years hottest startups and inventions in a quaint little European city that probably still operated off of landlines and fax machines?

Ugh, and even if the Technocon was technically exciting, there was still the matter of this whole joint training thing with 2A as well.

"Yeah, question. What's joint training about anyways?"

A New Day; Cozy Fantasy Village Life

Just quickly bashed one out.

A New Day; Cozy Fantasy Village Life

//Southern Village > Central Village
_@Xaltwind
"Rahahaha!" MacKinnon laughed, hitching up her rucksack higher up on her shoulder. "Course I'd show you, girlie. And if you help me clean 'em all up once we get back to the others, I'll even letcha pick out one for yourself!"

The children yearn for the shinies, after all, and in MacKinnon's expert opinion, she didn't expect any of the pots and pans and tools and carpets currently in her sack to be worth that much in the end. Fine housewarming accompaniments, certainly, but in terms of pure monetary value? It couldn't hold up at all to the real treasures she's found along the way! So why not see if she could spark the treasure hunting spirit in a younger lass; get herself a little assistant to do some adventuring with? The barrel proved it anyways. What had once been an easy fit had become a bit tight now that MacKinnon had grown up.

"And I was just planning on heading back myself," she said, definitively turning her heels back towards the center. "Super barren kinda place, really. Didn't really trigger my Treasure Sense at all. Didja come across anything, old man?"

Nocturnal Memoirs: An Urban-Fantasy Mafia Epic

Adel, when he thinks no one else is watching.

Nocturnal Memoirs: An Urban-Fantasy Mafia Epic

Harriet is obviously a bird.

Adel's just a feathery.

Nocturnal Memoirs: An Urban-Fantasy Mafia Epic

Balancing out the Lode-gang with some m*les.

Lenore's Gyft

Gyft: Carnage Induction
Lenore possesses superhuman physical attributes that ramp up in relation to the violence surrounding her. Her emotions become more erratic and aggressive in relation to that increase in physical capability, capping to a point where she becomes a nightmare too fast for the human eye to track, strong enough to lift a small building, and durable enough to shrug off gunfire. Alongside all that, her senses sharpen as well, while her body temperature spikes up to double that of a regular human under physical exertion. At her best and her worst, Lenore is a crimson blur, leaving a trail of 'rust' in her wake.

Wes Easton

Wes Easton

47 y/o | Male | Order of Enlightenment

Description: A remnant of the Mechanical Society, a group that once pursued the advancement of human society through the fusion of Gyfts and machines, only to be crushed once they stepped upon the toes of too many competing gangs who both coveted the technology and did not wish to see their own monopolies in violence be diminished. Wes possesses only a portion of such knowledge, his own Gyft 'grafted' onto him by of the Professors of that now-extinguished circle of academics. A man of few words, if only because of his amateurish prosthetic head, he is an adherent of the Order's beliefs, having understood that it was not the flesh that made men weak, but their minds. Even if you eliminated hunger, even if there was no resource scarcity, humans, imperfect, irrational humans, would still fight.

For now, he follows the Lodestar's guiding light. But he is not so cold as his body appears.

Gyft: Prosthetic Alchemy
A vestige of the Gyft possessed by the Principal, the individual that lead the Mechanical Society.

By utilizing the equivalent bio-matter and then introducing the mechanical tool meant to be infused with it, Wes is able to craft prosthetics that cannot be created or even understood by current technology. The process involved is mentally taxing, to the point that even a slight break in focus during 'installation' would cause the entire thing to turn into waste materials instead: inert hunks of metal that possess the form, but no function. Still, when they are crafted and grafted, they become perhaps one of the few objects in Nocturnia capable of 'combining' with their wearer's Gyft, offering new advantages or removing past disadvantages.

Elijah

Elijah

33 y/o | Male | Order of Enlightenment

Description: An odd fellow who has attended to Matthias since the Lodestar has been wheelchair bound. He claims to be as faithful as any other, but neither concerns himself with the wet work that Lenore indulges in, nor the charity that Celina does to soothe her soul. Elijah, perhaps, engages with the Order of Enlightenment as a scholar would. He is not swept away by the desire to make Nocturnia a paradise, nor does he lust for a crusade against the ignorant. Rather, he stays with them for a front-row seat to something that may make history, or may burn as brightly as the Great Library once did.

The mark on his left hand belongs to a house that has fallen into disrepute. The mask he dons on occasion harkens to crueler, less civil times. And yet, Elijah could not have experienced either.

Gyft: ???

Nocturnal Memoirs: An Urban-Fantasy Mafia Epic

Oh ye, Est, how much time are you moving forward for the next post round?