Genon

One Piece: Grand Cruise - A High Sea Adventure

@Juro

It occurs to me that you never looked at @ProPro's character sheet, at least as far as I can tell.

One Piece: Grand Cruise - A High Sea Adventure

@Juro

Hey, so I'm interested. I have a character from a dead roleplay that I'm thinking of recycling and importing, but I'm not sure his tone is exactly what you're going for. It's definitely edgy to a degree, and his powerset is heavily based off of a Cipher Pol 9 agent (quite literally: he was part of an organization founded by a rogue CP9 agent), and I don't know if that qualifies as overpowered or not at this point in the story.

Of note, I don't want to make a Devil Fruit user since we need someone who's able to swim.

Can you look over this character sheet and tell me what needs to be altered or changed to make it work in this setting?

roleplayerguild.com/posts/4950036

Gearframe S-Rivals

Actually, I do have a question @Quasi. Why exactly does the Gearframe School exist, and why are Gearframes so important? Are they military units in the real world? Is this some kind of military school for elite pilots? Or is it something closer to a sports school like Duel Academy from Yu-Gi-Oh GX?

Further, if there's a hierarchy that took over the school to the point of causing eternal stagnation in the scoreboard, why haven't the teachers done anything to shake this up or make the results halfway interesting? If the same factions come in first, second, and third each year without even so much as shifting positions on the scoreboard, doesn't it eliminate the point of the competition when it becomes incredibly predictable? Furthermore, why do they allow certain factions to have enormous population advantages over one another, throwing any idea of fair play into question immediately?

On top of that, why was this MMO-style VR battleground set up in the first place? I'd understand if it was to teach students about battle tactics in the field, but it seems like it's some kind of completely hands-off VRMMO kind of deal without any teacher intervention at all. Isn't this a school of some kind? Shouldn't the holodeck-style entertainment come second to actual classes?

I'm not trying to poke holes in this. I'm sure you have answers to all of these, but I would like to know them before I make my character.

Gearframe S-Rivals

I'm certainly interested. Not sure what kind of character I should go for yet, but I thought I'd indicate interest.

World of Light

Donnie and Cuphead!

Level 5: (36/50) + 3 = 39/50 EXP
Level 2 - (8/20) (+3)
Location: Canyon outside Subspace
Word Count:1679

Things were going great. Sure, the Flying Machine got electrocuted a few times, but the leather bits of Xuen’s Battlegear helped insulate Donnie from the electricity, and who didn’t expect the fliers to pose a threat? Still, he wasn’t sure the engines could take much more of this, and he didn’t intend to die in an autogyro crash today.

Then Vivi popped out of existence, and Donnie remembered the problem with Strikers: They could only manifest for a few moments at a time. He swore internally.

Thankfully, he had another solution. He’d seen the peashooters flying from the bottom of his aircraft, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume that Cuphead was down there. He’d seen the kid fire the same projectiles only a few minutes ago, after all.

“OI, CUPHEAD!” he yelled over the manic whirring of the rotors and the din of battle. “I KNOW YOU’RE DOWN THERE! I’M GONNA NEED YOU TO SHOOT THE FLIERS!”

”Golly Donnie!” Cuphead said from right behind the monk. ”Do you always holler this much?” He chuckled, almost literally melting away back down into the underside of the flying machine where he resumed his iron grip with one hand while firing off at crazy speeds with the other. He focused his fire on spaak in the distance that was lobbing lightning at them. Just because it was a cloud didn’t mean he couldn’t wallop it good, right? After all, he had walloped a genie and several ghosts before, and they were kind of like clouds! After a second or two of concentrated fire, it dissipated just like the mooks back home on Inkwell Isle would.

Cuphead turned his attention to the side where a trowlon was coming toward them, carrying a couple Primids like some 90s Disney animated movie! Cuphead grinned and began firing off at that. It proved to be a fair bit more mobile than the spaak so he missed some shots, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t keep up with. After about three seconds of leading his target, the trowlan was taken out and its small entourage found themselves plummeting to certain doom. ”Haha! This is fun!” Cuphead cheered!

His joy was interrupted by a sudden electric shock! Another spaak had hit the machine with a bit of lightning, and despite being made of ceramic the little cup wasn’t exactly insulated. The electricity caused the nerves in his hand to tighten so he thankfully never lost his grip, but even a small hit was a big detriment to the easily broken Cuphead. Two long cracks worked their way down his head, and a rather sizable bandage appeared from nowhere on his chest, as if to indicate his injury in a “family friendly” sort of way.

”Why I outta!” Cuphead snaked his way back up the flying machine and then jumped up in the air! With both hands free he slapped both fists together and a sizable blue energy ball flew out, looking eerily similar to Ryu’s signature hadouken. The fireball connected and instantly poofed the cloud monster like it was never there! And Cuphead even landed back on the flying machine to boot!
“Hang on, I got this!” Donnie said, in a lower-but-still-loud voice, recognizing that perhaps what he said earlier was overkill. Donnie pressed a few buttons to put the flying machine in a stationary hovering mode, then he cast a spell. His hands glowed with mystical energy, and Cuphead was surrounded by a bunch of green mist that seemed to soothe and heal his wounds. The bandage popped out of existence and the cracks healed.

Cuphead looked around at his injuries with wonder, then slapped his knee. ”Hot dog!”

Unfortunately, in that time, a Trowlon had managed to get into boarding range of the Flying Machine and a bunch of Sword Primids rapidly tried to do their worst to Donnie and everyone in the machine.

For his part, Donnie slammed the first Primid’s head into the roll cage, knocking out its lights before dropping it to the ground below. Another Primid managed to a slice against his arm, revealing that the beam swords seemed to inflict some kind of full-body damage rather than directly cut the opponent, leading the monk to rear back in pain. Donnie, having enough of this, activated Touch of Karma on the offending Primid, and every other slash simply redirected the damage onto the poor bastard who tried it in the first place, rapidly falling apart into Shadow Bugs.

As for everyone else on the Trowlon, they saw this display and seemed visibly confused, scared, and intimidated, not daring to make another move. Donnie capitalized on this with a Chi Burst that sent the three Primids left to their deaths. The Trowlon was still left, however, and with its payload gone, it was free to do whatever sinister tactic it pleased.

The trowlon seemed to realize that it wasn’t remotely able to combat the combined forces of Cuphead and Donnie, but it wasn’t the sort of monster to give up so easily. Rather than fly away, it ignored all self preservation instincts and flew straight for the upper propeller of the flying machine! If it got itself caught up in the mechanics, they’d have a one way ticket to the ground!

”I’ve got this!” Cuphead said, jumping up toward the trowlon, but it was clear that his jump simply wouldn’t be enough to make it. Then out of nowhere the little cartoon gained a sudden burst of speed, dashing in a straight line for the creature and intercepting it! Cuphead grabbed the carpet-like creature and wrestled with it in the air, while it in turn wrapped around him like a mummy. It was in that instant Cuphead realized the folly of his maneuver… And began plummeting downward with the trowlon wrapped around his body.

“DAMMIT!” the monk yelled in a decidedly un-enlightened voice as he sent the Flying Machine, damaged as it was, plummeting downwards to keep up with the Trowlon. The Boom Biter would catch Cuphead in the explosion, the only way to help the child would be to cut him out!

Both of them rapidly fell hundreds of feet as Donnie reached out and sliced the Trowlon with a slash from one of the Fists. He had to get uncomfortably close, and tried not to hit Cuphead directly, but he couldn’t be sure. He followed this up with another slice, and then a third. He couldn’t exactly afford to be surgical when sending his autogyro in a death spiral, but it was the only way to free him.

Thanks to the powerful slashes of Donnie, the trowlon was heavily weakened and tattered, enough so that Cuphead could tear himself free in a burst of strength! His arms and legs stretched out a bit in bulges while his straw spun around and around in his head. He then spun in the air to face in the direction of the flying machine’s death dive and dashed forward through the air, grabbing onto the side of the machine. ”Thanks a million, Donnie!”

“Just helping a friend in need! Now, stand by for some turbulence!” The monk started to slow the descent of the Flying Machine as best he could, while still providing enough forward motion to get air over the top rotor. This sent the flying machine in a sharper parabolic arc than he would have liked: He felt the g-forces from stabilizing the aircraft getting to him, but such a short exposure at such a low airspeed would likely not cause significant, or even permanent, damage, possibly not even to the infamously-fragile Cuphead.

With that, the autogyro stabilized its flight path, and thankfully it wasn’t bothered by enemies for the time being. “Cuphead, you alright after all that?”

”Swell!” Cuphead exclaimed, taking some potshots at one of those horn-headed freaks that shot out gusts of air. Another minion bit the dust.

Donnie tilted the control stick, and the Flying Machine started to dive downwards again, this time on a trajectory for the Brothers Grimm. It looked like he was going to use the truck bed as an impromptu helipad, which wasn’t a bad idea given the jagged, rocky canyon around them made the smooth truck bed the best option. It wouldn’t exactly be professional, but it would work.

“I’m bringing this thing down, we’re joining the land battle,” he explained to Cuphead as they descended. “The enemies are weak, but they’re smart, tactical, and have the numbers advantage. We’re all alone out here, and they know it. Why would the carpet-thing be so willing to throw its life away if it didn’t know that ten more would replace it? The best thing to do, I think, is to join our allies and stick to our strengths. I’m a melee fighter, and I can tell you’re not a sniper by trade.”

”If I still had my charge shot I could prove you wrong!” Cuphead laughed, clearly unperturbed by the danger he was in.

With that, the Flying Machine jostled as it made landfall. “Well, here we are!” He got off, waited for Cuphead to get off, and dismissed the Flying Machine in a puff of smoke, leaping off the thirty-foot truck and yelling, “COME ON, LET’S DANCE!” Shifting into a flying kick, his chi-enhanced foot collided with the face of a red Nagagog like the fist of a demigod, causing it to fall over, stunned, before he rolled, stood, and began kicking ass in earnest.

Cuphead kept his position in the bed of the Grimm, using the walls as a position of cover while he popped up to spray dozens of peashots at any and all enemies he could pinpoint in all the chaos going around. And lord, there were a lot of enemies, so he didn’t have to search too hard!

World of Light

Donnie and Vivi

Word Count: 2,215

EXP: (13/50) + 3 (word count) + 20 (Halloween story EXP reward) = 36/50

Donnie didn’t usually need much sleep. But he hadn’t slept for 24 hours now. He managed to stay awake long enough for the conversation with Tora, but now that he was actually walking to the Great Ton Pu Inn with the intent to actually sleep, the exhaustion had finally hit his body like a ton of bricks. He could barely stand up.

But, if he was going to go to sleep, he could at least stand to do an “evening” routine. He had cleaned himself in the Argent Tower, but he hadn’t brushed his teeth since leaving Peach’s Castle!

Medieval though it seemed, Azeroth was a deceptively-advanced world once you got past the plate armor, stone castles, and thatched orc huts.. Proper hygiene and sanitation was critical. As such, Donnie made damn sure his teeth no longer smelled like the Undercity’s sewage rivers (seriously, he knew the Forsaken were undead and all, but would it kill them to make the place sanitary enough that it couldn’t qualify as a hazardous waste zone to anyone who wasn’t literally rotting? It’s not like they used the sewers they called home!). He visited the local bath for good measure, even though he knew it was unnecessary, and in general did everything he needed for his normal evening routine, even though it was in the morning.

Gods, I’m going to have portal lag for a while, aren’t I? the relatively young grandmaster thought to himself as he finally crawled into bed. Going to bed in the morning and it’s barely been three days since I joined this whole crusade. If I keep staying up all night and getting teleported across the world like that, who knows what my sleep cycle’s going to look like by next week?

After about fifteen minutes, he drifted off to sleep, only to wake up with a shout. The clock was noon.

He looked at his hands, trembling in not just fear, but a slight tinge of anger. That dream...the plague. Stormwind’s fall. The appearance of N’Zoth, it all felt so vivid. But he knew better. Galeem was trying to play tricks on him somehow. Invading his mind to try and make him give in, trying to make him like Din. N’Zoth had made that obvious enough. N’Zoth was too chaotic, too corruptive.

Galeem would allow villains to prosper, but they were always...smaller. The Qliphoth was dangerous, but its roots did not yet leave Redgracoon City. He liked to see things fenced off in their own little areas, unable to wreak havoc. MegaDragonBowser wouldn’t leave World 1-1, but N’Zoth wouldn’t play like that. No, N’Zoth, even in the absence of the other Old Gods, would try to create a subterranean version of the Black Empire, and would make the oceans impassable. All life under the sea would be twisted into insanity-inducing monstrosities, all sailors who visited would either become his cultists, die, or go stark raving mad. Eventually, his armies would move onto land, surrounding the World of Light from all angles and moving inwards until the surface became the same kind of hell as the depths.

The Old Gods were proud, clever, insidious, and were willing to wait millennia while they plotted, corrupted, and gathered strength. It was how they remained a threat even after being locked miles below Azeroth’s surface by the Titans. N’Zoth would never accept the control of a being so orderly as Galeem. Eventually, he would move against the great big ball in the sky, and would not stop until he was brought back under control (at which point the world would already be damaged beyond repair), or Galeem was killed.

And that was assuming that N’Zoth didn’t just play the long game and whisper things that should not be known into Galeem’s ear from his place in the sea for centuries upon eons, waiting until he could drive the deity insane and turn him into his pawn. Just like how the Old Gods as a whole turned the leader of the Black Dragonflight and Aspect of Earth, Neltharion, into the all-destroying psychotic killing machine known as Deathwing.

Galeem would not stand for this. N’Zoth was likely dead. No, to call N’Zoth “dead” would be an insult to everyone who had ever died. N’Zoth was so far beyond dead that he never existed outside of Donovan’s memories, and never would exist, except perhaps as a boogeyman for parents in this world to scare their children with should they misbehave.

And that brought the grandmaster to the reality of the situation: The mission was still four hours out. He needed to go back to sleep. He turned over onto his side, and slowly drifted into unconsciousness once again.

Donnie woke up at 3:30 on the dot. This left him more than enough time to get ready for the mission, and once again he was out in Lumbridge, and after he looked over hs Nopon friend’s handiwork and thanked Tora for the upgrades to the Dwarven Flying Machine, piling into the giant monster truck as he prepared for a bumpy ride.

Donnie was many things, underneath his punching-obsessed exterior, but he was not a patient man. A Huojin monk by his very nature, he valued quick and decisive action over inner philosophical debates, yet the act of waiting for a mission to start rattled his nerves every time. He knew, going into every big dungeon and raid, that there was a significant chance that he wasn’t coming back. That the mission would fail spectacularly, and the world outside the target’s walls would be ruined as a result.

He just wished that the mission would come, hit him, and be over already. Whether he was to die or succeed, why couldn’t fate just let it be so and save him the agonizing, nerve-wracking waiting? He was gripping the edge of the truck bed so hard that his knuckles were white. He watched as the land gradually started to turn more barren, twisted and infested with monsters the further they traveled, until, eventually, he saw it.

That all-consuming blackish-purple void. It reminded him of so many things from his own world, but it wasn’t anything he directly recognized. It was a blight on the landscape, something that simply should not be there. Donnie started to break out in a cold sweat. What the hell was inside of that thing?

The truck jumped the gap, then, while Donnie was distracted with his thoughts. When it landed, he was thrown twenty feet clear of the impact, traveling in a parabolic arc, but he managed to mitigate most of the impact by tucking and rolling. He sprung to his feet, seeing the forces emerging from the bubble ahead. Strange, bulbous soldiers in uniform formed from strange globs of purple energy. Weird monsters that resembled giant armored heads that flew into battle wielding twin swords. And of course, the eyeball-fish. Eyeball-fish. This place was only going to get weirder, wasn’t it?

He was interrupted by an energy beam impacting close to his position. He was already on the move as he caught sight of who had fired it: A Beam Primid, from its cover behind a nearby boulder. By the time the Primid was ready to fire the next shot, Donnie was already parkouring his way up the rock. Its desperate shot went wide as Donnie slammed into its fragile body like a ton of bricks, smashing what passed for its ribs with a devastating palm strike and taking it out in one hit. It flew backwards about ten feet, rolled twice, and lay still, before dissolving back into that strange purple goop it was born from.

“Well, that was easy--OH SHIT!” Donnie yelled as five laser blasts narrowly missed him, a whole host of Beam Primids firing upon him where that one came from. He took cover behind the boulder he’d slain the first one at, only for a Sword Primid to come charging at him to try and flush him out.

The Sword Primid was a mighty-inspired little beast, but what it had in valor it seriously lacked in every other department. Donnie easily grabbed its sword arm before he could make contact, forcing its noodle-like arm beyond normal rotation and breaking it, forcing it to drop the beam sword. He then grabbed the beam sword while tossing the Primid over the boulder. While the Beam Primids were distracted by their marshmallow-like comrade hurtling towards them, he dashed around the boulder and was soon upon the host of Beam Primids, making short work of them with the Fists of the Heavens, leaving the corpses to dissolve into more of that shadow-stuff.

He sincerely hoped that the purple globs didn’t function like Shadow or Void from his world. He’d had enough of that insanity for a lifetime.

He then heard a sinister laugh above him and the telltale sound of a sword swing. He rolled out of the way as an Armight came down from the sky, leaving a deep gash in the ground where he once stood. It swung at him without tiring, aiming for his neck, arms, legs, anywhere it could land a hit. It fought like a fish possessed.

Donnie jumped backwards, attempting to avoid the sword swings, though a few of them managed to get through and hit his armor. The Armight was strong enough that they still stung through blunt force trauma alone. Having enough of this, he spotted a hole in the Armight’s guard and smashed it straight in the face with a straight that could shatter bone. The Armight reared back, stunned, before he grabbed its arms, yet more limp noodle-like things, and spun the Armight around, culminating in a slam straight into a nearby boulder, causing its bones to give way and its helmet to crack. Donnie then raised up his boot 180 degrees, ending its life by smashing his heel into its skull with a chi-enhanced kick. It, too, dissolved back into those shadowy globs.

That fight had taken a lot out of him. And that had just been one enemy! He was never going to be able to deal with all of these guys with his fists alone--”BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE--”

And then Donnie had to cover his ears as a trumpet-headed man started to roar at him with the full force of, well, a giant trumpet. The man wasn’t too far away, Donnie could easily get over there and attack--if only he could get through the damn wind this trumpet-headed bastard was pouring out from his mouth!

The Primids nearby saw his weakness and capitalized on it, charging all at once, tackling him to the ground, and attacking him relentlessly. For the first time in a long while, Donnie was being beaten into the ground by a bunch of minions. He really shouldn’t have underestimated them: If he took his hands off his ears to fight back, he’d feel immense pain and probably go deaf at this rate, but if he covered his ears, the Primids would go back to whaling on him. What was he going to do?

Then, the Borboras stopped, for some reason. As Donnie now could get the Primids off of him with impunity, shattering spines and snapping necks, he got to his feet, his ears ringing and his body bloodied and bruised from a hundred punches and kicks, he saw Vivi, having just cast a paralysis spell of some kind on the Borboras.

“Thanks, Vivi!” Donnie said, as the Black Mage finished casting another spell: Thunder. The Borboras’ paralysis ended, but instead it fell to the ground, spasming and convulsing as its metal head did an excellent job conducting the electricity that Vivi’s spell put out.

While that happened, Donnie cast Vivify on himself a few times as he got himself back up to 100%.

“Thanks, again,” the monk said, taking a moment to catch his breath as the enemies around them began to dissolve, “I owe you one.”

“No you don’t,” Vivi replied. “If it weren’t for you, I’d still be a Spirit. I’m just doing my best to contribute, like everyone else.”

“Well…” Donnie looked at him slyly. “Want to keep contributing?”

“Sure?”

---

“WHY DOES THIS THING NOT HAVE A SEAT BELT?!”

“BECAUSE TORA FORGOT TO PUT ONE IN!”

“THAT SEEMS LIKE A SERIOUS DESIGN FLAW!”

“WELL, IT’S BETTER THAN IT WAS WHEN IT CAME OFF THE IRONFORGE ASSEMBLY LINE AT LEAST!”

“WHAT DO DWARVES SMOKE WHERE YOU’RE FROM!?”

“THEY DON’T! THEY JUST GET REALLY, REALLY DRUNK!”

That was Vivi and Donnie yelling over the din of the Dwarven Flying Machine’s engines as the pair unleashed hell on the Subspace soldiers below. The Boom Biters, true to form, exploded gloriously, taking dozens of enemies back where they came from with every blast. Vivi, with nowhere else to sit, sat on Donnie’s lap (the Black Mage was only three feet tall, so it wasn’t as bizarre an idea as one might think in the absence of another seat), casting Stop on enemies below to send their careful formations and ambushes into disarray, and Thunder on any enemies that got too close for comfort.

“DID I REALLY HAVE TO SIT ON YOUR LAP THOUGH?”

“HEY, WHATEVER WORKS, WORKS! I’LL ASK TORA TO ADD ANOTHER SEAT WHEN WE GET OUT OF THIS, ALRIGHT?”

Cosmic Tales (Robot Girl/Mecha Musume RP) [ENDED]

@PaulHaynek
Honestly, I got a job soon after I joined and thus haven't had a whole lot of free time, plus I both think my character is a bit too goofy and I'm regretting going to Wizdom since it isolates me from the other players. I'm not sure I even want to continue or have the time, and I'd be fine with the game not continuing.

World of Light

Donnie

Word Count: 1,063
Location: Adventurer’s Guild → Sisters of the Anvil → Adventurer’s Guild → Hole → Devil’s Casino
EXP: Level 5 --> (10/50) + 2 = 12/50

The general flow of people carried Donnie along with it toward the Adventurers’ Guild. At first, given the mad scramble outside, it seemed like the whole place might be a madhouse, but a gathering of people with nothing but the best intentions proved highly amenable to reason. Trusty as ever, the Houndmaster had established some organization inside the guild castle itself, preventing anyone from wantonly diving into the cartoonish black hole the guildmaster supposedly left behind. With unknown and unpredictable powers on hand, he argued a strong case for proper procedure. Preparations had begun for a large-scale interdiction, with the various adventurers backing off to fully supply and equip themselves, while the sheriff directed a quick reconnaissance effort with the help of a few choice veterans and sturdy rope.

That left Donnie in the same boat as everyone else who wanted to help: possessed of a couple minutes to get ready while the heroes’ rescue was planned out.

So there Donnie was, saved by the Houndmaster injecting some sanity into the operation. He had a precious few minutes to prepare, and he was not going to waste it. Quickly thanking him, he ran out into the town streets, looking for a good blacksmith.

He came across what looked like a town hall with an oversized furnace attached to the side. It radiated heat for upwards of a dozen yards even before he entered, and when he did enter the building marked “Sisters of the Anvil,” that heat became downright sweltering.

It was clear that this was a well-used smithy staffed by experts from the moment he stepped in. Countless blacksmithing tools of every size, shape, and description hung on the walls. Several anvils dotted the place, along with numerous cooling pools and workbenches, clearly meant to put out weapons and tools at a rate approaching, if not quite meeting, mass production.

It wasn’t long before he came across the nearest of the three sisters, a pink-haired woman performing what was clearly some kind of mana-injection process on an otherwise-finished sword. “Hi!” she said, “I’m Rena, what can I do for you?”

Donnie responded with, “You heard about the operation at the Guild Hall?”

“Yep. You’re not even the first adventurer to come in here in the last few minutes. Everyone’s gearing up for the rescue operation, and I’ve been fixing up anything they bring in.”

Donnie smiled. “You work fast, I see. Think you can fix up mine?”

“Probably.”

A few moments later…

“Are you sure that armor wasn’t ceremonial?”

“...No?”

“That armor had world-record gems in the gauntlets and a helmet shaped like a tiger head! And you call that not ceremonial?!” the yellow-haired girl yelled incredulously from further into the shop.

“I don’t know, I think it was kinda cute!” said the blue-haired girl.

Donnie sighed as he finished putting on his gauntlets. “Look, Rena, you handle enchanting, right? You can tell how strong the enchantments on this set of armor are. It’s not ceremonial, trust me.”

“Whatever you say, tiger-boy,” Rena said mischievously.

“Now that I won’t argue.” Donnie said with a laugh. “Now, I really have to go. I think the operation’s starting.”

And with that, Donnie walked out of the shop and booked it over to the Adventurer’s Guild. As he entered, he said, “Hey, Houndmaster, I’m all readied up, let me know when we’re going to start!”

From the looks of it, just about everyone had been assembled into ranks taking the shape of concentric circles around the hole in the guild hall’s floor. At the Houndmaster’s direction, Donnie joined the innermost loop, poised to be one of the first leaping into the unknown. A tense few moments passed by as the final checks were made, and after the Houndmaster gave the all-clear, the operation officially began.

Donnie quickly looked over his equipment, checking his armor (now in pristine condition, unsurprisingly--even the leather parts!) and the Fists (they’d been used to kill a lot of things lately, they could have probably done with a touch-up and a sharpening too, but the strength of the enchantments within more than made up for it), and then readied himself by getting on his trusty Disc of the Red Flying Cloud. He wouldn’t let this thing be a liability this time. He was just going to use it to descend safely without relying on the ropes everyone else was going to use. He took a deep breath, got into a cross-legged position on the disc to keep his stability, and when the signal was given, he made to move to the center of the hole and rapidly descend.

As he descended down the hole, he first noticed how freakishly deep it was, and the pure blackness on all sides other than directly up and down. It was obvious it was some kind of magical hole to begin with, but he expected it to be closer to a portal, not an extradimensional tunnel. It reminded him of the magical properties of the Luggage, and other Azerothian bags, more than anything else. It was as if the hole was a magical space layered on top of reality. The ground underneath the Adventurer’s Guild still existed, but this space coexisted with the foundation, soil, and rock. If an earthworm burrowed through the soil this tunnel filled, it probably wouldn’t notice anything different from the usual soil it was eating. But if you entered through the hole, you’d end up in this sub-universe instead.

He was descending at maximum speed, so he was faster than the other heroes, who were descending via simple gravity. Can they really survive the fall? Donnie asked himself. Well, now that I think about it, they are from other worlds so maybe? I couldn’t manage that without Zen Flight. Come to think of it, I hope I remember that ability soon….

Soon, Donnie emerged into the light below, slowing to a stop as he looked around. Getting off the Disc and holding it under his arm, he saw that he was in...a giant casino? A bunch of hazy-looking portals stood in front of him, with a giant dice-headed man looming over him. Skeletons monsters, and demons in fancy suits and expensive dresses played their money games around the table, and in the colossal casino grounds beyond.

What the hell have I gotten myself into? Donnie thought to himself as he facepalmed.

World of Light

Donnie

Word Count: 2,391
Location: Argent Tower Lobby → Argent Tower Kitchen → Aftermath of Doomslayer Rampage → Lumbridge → Great Ton Pu In → Mina’s Restaurant → Adventurer’s Guild
EXP: Level 5 --> (7/50) + 3 = 10/50

New Spirit Acquired! Black Mage (Striker): Through a desire to save his ally, Donnie has turned the dead, zombified Black Mage into a Striker. Vivi retains his mind, and will help Donnie when called upon, casting his offensive magic. He currently only knows Thunder and Stop.

Donnie, Ratchet, and Clank killed monsters left and right, but it was eventually clear that none of them could keep this up forever. But the tower was so close he could taste it! He only had to keep up this effort for a bit longer. He threw chi projectiles, Clank driving the motorcycle from his perch on his lap, while Ratchet let loose with more firepower than some platoons. Clank even used the blades from time to time. It made him proud. Right now, the three were working together as a perfectly-synchronized team, purging the horrors of the Dead Zone and making sure that none of these abominations got close to the civilians.

But all good things must come to an end. And Donnie was personally glad this one did, because then he got to see the man who he had heard so much about: A hulking man in green power armor. To say he looked dangerous was an understatement. Everything about him dripped menace and lethality, from the visor that obscured his face (seemingly stripping away his humanity), to his bearing, to the weapons he wielded.

And as the man took a step forward, Donnie contemplated whether he’d have to fight, a grin emerging on his face at the idea of going toe-to-toe with this man. But then he completely ignored them instead, choosing to fight the entire oncoming horde by himself.

It seemed the height of stupidity, but the Doomslayer had earned his reputation over eons of demon slaughter, a record that made Donnie’s scant time fighting the Burning Legion look like nothing by comparison.

Then there was the sheer brutality of how he dealt with the monsters ahead. The way the Doomslayer murdered an arremer got him particularly interested, what with how he ripped off its wing and jammed one of the wingbones all the way through its eye and out the back of its head. Distasteful, maybe, but incredibly effective.

The monk whistled. “Holy shit! I wish that guy was around when the Burning Legion attacked. He would have made it ten times easier!”

Then he walked inside, chuckling at the amazing display as Clank used the Treadblade to barricade the door behind the van.

As per Nero’s recommendation, Donnie began to disinfect everyone he could. Especially Ms. Fortune, who had taken several bites. Poor girl was likely halfway to turning by this point.

Then he realized something. The blood! Everyone was covered in bodily fluids from all the zombies!

“EVERYONE, BEFORE YOU LEAVE, LISTEN UP!” he yelled authoritatively, getting their attention.

He cleared his throat, and then spoke in a normal--but still far-reaching--voice, “My spells can disinfect people. Not objects. Everyone here is probably covered at least a few droplets of zombie fluids. Gene got infected with a zombie plague on the way to the police station, when a fat zombie upchucked on him. He’s cured now, like everyone else, but that means that we know it spreads through fluid transmission. We all need to have our stuff disinfected. Clothing, equipment, bags, everything. And that means I’m going to need people familiar with zombie plagues.”

“Leon, Jill, can you help?”

The rookie cop and the special agent lent their aid, the latter in particular confirming Donnie’s assumptions about viral transmission and taking charge to organize a cleaning detail. Argent Tower featured a small cafeteria, thanks to its remote location prior to its reuse in the World of Light, and its kitchen offered enough sanitation to get everyone cleaned off prior to teleportation. Soaked and cold was, after all, better than dangerously infectious. A line formed leading toward the kitchen, with its sinks, sprayers, and cleaning agents, and before too long the decontaminated survivors could escape through the teleporter.

Donnie, after the exhaustive cleaning operatijon, desummoned the Treadblade as he prepared to go through, opting to preserve it for future use by placing it in the Luggage. He desummoned the Luggage then, safely placing it in a parallel dimension, and then made to step on the teleporter, only to realize something.

That Black Mage, he had died, right? He didn’t trust the zombies and demons that infested this place with that spirit. They’d either consume it outright, turn it into one of themselves, absorb it, or turn it into an item.

And, as much as the prospect of absorbing someone else’s conceptual essence horrified him, what those demons would do with it was worse.

He was so close to salvation. All he had to do to get out of there was step on the teleporter and he would be free. But no. He had to do this, if no-one else would.

So, after a quick conversation with Nico, he had the van moved far enough out of the way that he could once again step into the street that had been filled with so much bloodshed not so long ago.

He strode forward with purpose, scanning the ash piles that comprised the bodies of the fallen for the Spirit he was looking for.

And eventually, he found it, clear as day. It floated right next to a random demonic Spirit. He crushed the demon’s Spirit under his boot. He cared not for its existence beyond what he could take from it, and hopefully that thing would be useful for what lay ahead.

In pure contrast to the way he had brutally crushed the demon’s essence, he took the Spirit of the Black Mage in his hand, holding it tenderly, like it was a priceless artifact or a sacred text.

He contemplated what he was going to do with it. He definitely didn’t want to make it into an item. Should he take the mage’s form or knowledge? That would be cruel to do to an ally, even if it was reversible. And besides, Donnie had always been a physical attacker. In battle, the mage would be better served at a distance while Donnie got in the opponent’s face.

So it was decided. Strikerhood would be his fate. He would save his ally from an eternity of oblivion, no matter what. That sentiment seeped into the prismatic mote of light before him, little by little, and the strength of the monk’s amplified the essence that he found. Like a torch lighting a sputtering candle, or water making a flower bloom, Donnie’s compassion restored that which had become almost nothing. He brought the spirit back, if not quite to life, then at least to existence.

It was...oddly beautiful. He hadn’t really expected something like this, but...he’d done it. He’d truly brought Black Mage back. That was...incredible. He’d have to do this more often.

It wasn’t long before the Black Mage appeared before him, as a specter. He didn’t speak much, apparently, but bowed gratefully before disappearing back into...wherever Strikers went when they weren’t manifested. His Spirit, maybe? He felt a magic bond of some kind between himself and the Black Mage, now. Like he had a guest of sorts.

Then as he walked back to the tower, he began stomping on more demon and zombie spirits along the way and scooping up the items. He was up to ten by the time he reached the doorway. He’d thought of a few things he wanted. A Mistweaver weapon or two, maybe a polearm or staff for if he ever got his Brewmastery back, probably a few guns for Ratchet, he figured Jak needed some Eco, and general reagents for his enchanting and engineering work. Unknown to him, Resonance was kicking in with every idle thought.

Then he put the items away, got his armor cleaned off for the second time, walked into the teleporter, and the world became a bright white.

For Donnie

You have acquired:
Spear
A well-made polearm, decently light. Lends itself to both graceful and aquatic combat.

and:
Bone Scythes x 2
Impractical and unwieldy but sharp and savage, they make for an impressively brutal pair of hand weapons.

and:
Rotten Flesh x 4
Even if it weren't somewhat toxic, it would still be disgusting. But if it's eat or be eaten...

and:
Nyabon Horn x2
A horn from a giant demonic cat. Possesses magical properties, with a special affinity for fire and relocation, making it a valuable alchemical ingredient.

and:
Mire
A toxin sword hailing from the Great Plague, hewn of flesh, and yet its bane.

* * *

Donovan hadn’t seen daylight since noon the previous day (not that he knew how much time had passed). The blazing sunlight nearly blinded him, forcing him to shield his eyes as they adjusted. He stepped off the teleporter, the sunlight becoming a bit less dazzling as he walked forward through the town.

It was a peaceful, idyllic-looking place. The polar opposite of the hell he had willingly, and stupidly, walked into.

But he’d think about that later. FIrst, he needed to get some food and board. He was exhausted.

* * *

The first thing Donnie did was head to the local inn, the Great Ton Pu, and use a fraction of his copious reserves of gold to rent a room for the day. Once he got inside, he performed the annoying task of taking off his armor and putting away his weapons.

The armor was kept on by a series of straps, all over the body. Most people wearing heavy armor, like knights, usually had someone else put it on, but Donnie’s gear was designed to be removed by the person wearing it. The monk was left in his undersuit, a padded outfit meant to attach the armor to. It was sleeveless. That was something he was going to have to fix, what with how often his arms were getting hit these days. The extra padding would at least protect a little bit more than bare skin.

He collapsed onto the bed, completely spent from the harrowing ordeal of the Dead Zone. His undersuit was drenched in sweat, and cold and damp from the cleaning it got, but he was too exhausted to put on anything else.

He lay there for a good, long while, barely moving. He could feel the minutes ticking by.

But he did not sleep. He was only somewhat tired. His muscles needed the rest, though. He had missed a nice, soft feather bed so much, and it had only been a day.

How much time had he spent in the Dead Zone, anyway? He didn’t wear a watch with his armor, he had no idea how much time had passed. He had certainly spent more than a few hours in the Police Station. Then there was the time spent in transit. It had probably only been past noon when he arrived there, and they had spent some time fighting zombies and demonic insects, then the battle with the massive treant...a lot of things happened even before the police station. Then there was the mad dash to the futuristic tower….

Gods, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was the next day already! And come to think of it, he hadn’t seen most of the Land of Adventure crew since he got here!

One thing was clear. He needed to get his bearings.

With all the energy and grace of an ancient, dying ogre with three limbs missing, he pushed himself off the bed and to his feet, staggering a bit as he did so. After putting his armor in his Luggage and changing into a set of town clothes, tying the sheathed Fists of the Heavens to his belt, he unlocked the door after briefly fiddling with the key, and then repeated the process as he managed to lock it behind him. He took a deep breath as he turned around and took the stairs, arriving in the lobby to find that the inn did not serve food. He’d have to go elsewhere.

And so, he walked around the town that he now knew was Lumbridge due to his talk with the innkeeper, and headed for the nearest restaurant. They paid for everything with gold around here, right? He had plenty of that.

He sat down in his town clothes at Mina’s restaurant and ordered some...wait what the fuck was this menu?!

Steamed hydra rolls?! BBQ DRAGON SHANK?! He had all kinds of questions, most of which MIna put to rest by claiming that those items were only on the menu in her world, because over there, dragons weren’t intelligent and adventurers could hunt hydras for food consistently.

“Screw it, give me the dumplings, the steamed buns, the lizard tail, the curry, the gourd soup, and the sponge roll. And two glasses of ice water and a cup of coffee.”

“That’s...a lot. Are you sure you can eat all of that?”

Donnie looked at her flatly. “I have spent the last twelve hours without food, water, or sleep, fighting off hordes of zombies and demons inside of a destroyed city where the sun literally doesn’t shine. I helped kill a gigantic tree monster, calmed a rampaging ghost, and rescued a bunch of survivors trapped in a city garrison. Trust me, I can eat that much. And probably more.”

Mina laughed. “Well! After a story like that, I think I’ll give you a discount!”

One gorging later, Donnie was feeling...moderately full. To be honest, he was known to eat tons of food, both due to his upbringing on the Wandering Isle and the insane workouts he put his body through in the course of adventuring. But last night had been insane even by those standards. He was hoping he could take some time to at least sleep in the Brothers Grimm once this was over.

Then, he heard a commotion behind him. Turning his head, he saw a small army of what looked like adventurers passing him by.

He quickly paid for his food and walked over to ask about the commotion. A young man in plate armor responded, “Didn’t you hear? The Guildmaster turned evil and kidnapped a bunch of adventurers!”

“I’m new around here,” Donnie replied, “But I get the picture. I’ll go.”

“You’re not even in battle gear--”

“Trust me. I can help.”

And so Donnie went, following the crowd. Not having his armor would hurt when dealing with this “Guildmaster,” but he had a feeling that his friends were the ones kidnapped. If so, he couldn’t allow this to continue.

A Warrior's Road [Post Apocalyptic Fighting RP]

I'm interested.