hagroden

Xmen: Mutant Liberation Army

He might know how to get in touch with the underground or Cable, who could get in touch with him.
Any other Sentinels are at least 30 minutes away, for reasons that will come up, so he might have time to get away.
It might not be safe to use a prison or guard phone, but there should be a way to use a random person's phone, public internet,dead drops, etc. to send a coded message.
That said, Corona will realize that you are gone, but will have to send a team to find you, as extracting Cable's cell is more important than one person that can survive on their own.

@TheUnknowable

Getting in touch is possible, but only if the team isn't using burner phones (which I'd assume they are), and if there's a town within extremely close proximity (which I doubt there are).

As for the Sentinels, if he isn't extracted by the time they arrive, he's dead. He's too injured to even walk in a straight line, let alone fight off numerous attackers with nothing but gases.

I do want to make note that I'm completely fine with having my characters killed, as long as it's due to reasonable circumstances. I've already got a back-up character made up, so if Cain dies, he dies. It makes sense, realistically, that he would given the circumstances.

<Snipped quote by hagroden>

I must admit that he might not survive if any more sentinels come. They won't just send one, they'll send plenty. If he was part of the team he'd know how to contact them, he will need to figure out how to make it until Corona realizes he's not there. I am very intrigued to read how he deals with the injuries from the explosion.... :) Poor guy. Who is a healer on the team? I mean besides..... :)

@WindsOfFate

And no, I can pretty safely assume that without intervention from the MLA he will die there. While he would know how to contact the team, doing so is not a likelihood as he can't get ahold of them from the prison without risking their lives, and he wouldn't survive a walk all the way from the (presumably) isolated prison to a town of some sort. However, if he is able to escape, the mask is a permanent feature, as well as the deadpool look he'll be sporting from surviving a hydrogen explosion.

Mordhaben's Institute for Aspiring Mages [Accepting Applicants!]

Hey guys, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to drop this. Only about half of the players here have responded in the last two weeks, and each post is getting more and more spaced out. If this gets revamped, PLEASE let me know about it!! I'm loving the concept along with those who are actively posting, but this group is just about dead IMO.

The Patron Saints || A Unique Superhero RP

Nicodemus Hathaway

Saints Appearance

Common Appearance

Nicodemus Hathaway

~

Eld Fen

Age
23

Gender
Male

Allegiance
The Patron Saints

Description
Nicodemus stands at about five feet and eleven inches, or one-hundred and seventy centimeters, and weighs about one-hundred and eighty pounds, or eighty-one kilograms. He is a handsome, angular man with nearly silver hair that frames, and compliments, his deathly pale skin. His eyes are a storm, an elegant collaboration of gentle blues and intense grays that create the visage of a thunderous, raining sky.

Personality
Nicodemus is a distant, oft' harrowing man of an intensely melancholic personage; his quiet ways of disinterest and apathy seem to issue forth waves of discomfort and aversion. His mind is that of a poet, or perhaps a philosopher; although one without solace. His written art is dense with horror; and always of an existential, cosmicist nature. He lives in constant ruminating over the nature of existence, and all the darkness and horrors that it contains. He is enigmatic and eccentric, eternally writing poems and novellas of the great and old beings that plague his dreams, both waking and not. He is not a frightened man, nor a particularly courageous one, but does not shy from things often.

Biography
Nicodemus was born an only child in his family's home to a poor estate, and was raised in part by his mother and father, and in part by his ailing Grandfather. His father was a jeweler, and was often away from home on various trips to sell his wares, sending home what little he could afford to. His mother was a maid, and often worked in the wealthier parts of town cleaning things of both common and horrific nature. When he was three years old his primary Care-taker and Grandfather, Alistair Hathaway, began to develop acute psychosis, for which he was bedridden. The occasional doctor or nurse that the household had been able to afford claimed that his psychosis and hallucinations were likely caused by syphilis, Alistair however died many years later without the infection present in his biology.

Despite the belief of medical professionals, Alistair swore that he was not sickly by any means that perpetuated among men, but that he was paying the price for knowledge long forbidden. From an early age, Nicodemus was exposed to the numerous hallucinations of his Grandfather and eventually began to have hallucinations of his own, often experiencing ones almost identical to Alistair's. Beginning at the age of Four, Nicodemus had been labeled clinically insane, although harmless; the same diagnosis as his Grandfather. For almost two years Nicodemus suffered these visions and night-terrors; whispers of entities old and harrowing, visions of catastrophes and apocalypses, and hallucinations of faceless beasts holding his body still throughout the night. Without any means to express himself, to unleash the Hells held within him, he turned to writing and poetry, both of which he shared only with his Grandfather.

His Grandfather consoled him throughout his early life, much to the anguish of his ever-absent parents, and Alistair refereed to his Grandson as a prodigy. Nicodemus didn't care much for the assessment of his writing, but his Grandfather was right. Even at such a young age, Nicodemus's writing was astute and visual, and those whom his Grandfather shared his writing with were astounded at the terror felt by reading a child's poetry, and it wasn't long until peculiar individuals began to pay hefty sums for Nicodemus's works.

At the age of 14, Nicodemus's first Novella was Published, a short story called "The Waters of Nisceir." His book recieved little attention outside of niche circles at first, but soon began to spread and fester among the shelves of those with a love for dread and cosmic horror. Not long after his publications growing popularity his household could afford his mother's early retirement, and after Nicodemus's fourth publication, at the age of 15, his father did the same.

His house was full, and his Parents were happy for a time, until Nicodemus made the decision to emancipate himself from them, cutting them off from their excessive spending of his own profit. He continued to provided them with more than enough money to live comfortable lives, all three of them, until his Father's greed led to his Grandfather being taken to a "home." At this, Nicodemus was furious, and immediately seized their income through his own volition, and using the money he had once given to his parents, Nicodemus purchased a small home for himself and his grandfather. Both his Mother and Father were forced to return to work, as their excessive lifestyle had left them without a dime in their savings.

After this separation, Things went well for Nicodemus and Alistair for a few years, Nicodemus's works became more and more popular with each publication, and as such his income continued to grow exponentially. However, at the age of 22, both he and his Grandfather's hallucinations became incredibly intense and consistent. Both of the Hathaway men could be seen from the outside world, wandering their house and screaming, whimpering, and whispering to themselves. For a period of three years, both Nicodemus and his Grandfather were plagued by numerous visions a day, heard the whispering of monsters every waking moment, and in their sleeping hours felt the looming presence of things so old that time itself seemed young in comparison.

There was only so much an old man could handle, before giving up to the whispers.

On the morning of his Twenty-Second birthday, Nicodemus awoke to find that the whispering had silenced, the entities that haunted his sleep were gone, and the visions that so often pounded in to his psyche were absent for the first time in years. With nothing but quiet joy, Nicodemus nearly ran to his Grandfather's room, but found something so twisted there, that it haunts him to this day, and will likely do the same until the day he gratefully dies.

He left that city within a month.

Now, he lives a humble life in the crime-plagued city of Independence. He'd bought himself a small home in the North-eastern part of the city refereed to as Red Harbor, so he could be left to his writing with a view of the water. The water, however, had began to exhibit a strange taste these last few days, and stranger yet, Nicodemus had found himself capable of terrifying and incredible things.

Carried Weapon(s)
Tri-Dagger
A twisted blade with three sharpened edges, one which he often uses to slowly carve in to his targets. The wound from this blade is so complex, that without almost immediate treatment from a team of surgeons the wound will likely be fatal. In addition, Nick's tendency to use the blade on the back of his Victim's necks has left him without a single survivor, but a very bloodied blade.

Abilities
Spatial Distortion
Nick can create distortions within space, causing any physical matter within to bend according to the distortion. This provides Nick the ability to teleport rapidly, alter physical dimensions, and create pocket dimensions as well as portals. Due to the Manton Effect, his powers can not distort the dimensions of human beings; meaning that he can not stretch someone's torso to infinity and twist it along the way, but he can do such to structures, geography, etc. Unless you'd like to spend 12 hours walking a 15 foot hallway, stay on his good side.

Skills
Aside from his writing, Nicodemus relies heavily on his abilities to achieve his goals.

Extra
N/A

Shadow Smiles

Hey, I apologize, but I'm going to go ahead and drop out from this RP. It's not really going anywhere, given that it's been up for nearly a month and only has a handful of IC posts. If you do a revamp of this, I'll definitely be interested, so please send me a message if you do.

Xmen: Mutant Liberation Army

@TheUnknowable
I did read it, however continuity issues prevent me from posting that he made it through the portal after the portal had already closed (in your post). In addition, he wasn't close to the Isolation Ward, as he had stopped in a corridor to provide cover for the escaping mutants, so it wouldn't make sense for Corona to have seen him before going through the portal.

In terms of him getting back to the MLA on his own/contacting them, that's not exactly feasible. The explosion was hot enough to weld his gas-mask to his face, his phone (and most of his clothes) would be burnt to a crisp at the most, and damaged beyond use at the least. Unless the crew makes note of his absence, he's going to be fucked. That is, assuming that there are more sentinels/anti-mutant teams coming to the prison, which I'm sure their are.

Mordhaben's Institute for Aspiring Mages [Accepting Applicants!]

Anyone planning or working on a post? Waiting for others to go ahead before I post anything myself.

@FlitterFaux

Same

Xmen: Mutant Liberation Army

Protiv

---

"Fuck." Was all he could muster to say.

The portal had closed, and on the wrong side of it, Protiv was trapped at a prison he had just committed dozens of homicides in. He was in luck though, as all but one Sentinel had been completely destroyed; However, the one remaining was the largest Sentinel of the trio.

Then, suddenly, everything was bright, and Protiv felt the combustion of the Hydrogen send a wave of heat, followed closely by flames. He responded quickly, moving his right hand to send the nitrogen between him and the flame, but it wasn't nearly enough. The flames of the explosion knocked him to the ground, and the pain he felt was incredible, it was as if every part of his being had been plunged into a boiling vat of water. Protiv's scream echoed through nearly every corridor of that building... Reaching to pull the melting mask from his face, he nearly screamed again as he felt the skin covering his face stick to the air-tight edges of the gasmask, and his hands fell from his face; The mask wasn't going anywhere.

With a yell, Protiv stumbled up to his feet, pain coursing through his veins as he did so, and began to limp through the hallways, towards the exit. Looking out the window to his right, he could see the blurry image of the largest Sentinel on the ground. To his "luck," the Sentinel had been much closer to the explosion, and was now nothing more than a melting machine.

Trudging forward, he breathed raggedly through the gas mask that was now a permanent feature to his person.

The Grand Arcanium (An Isolated DnD wizard school rp, new roleplayers welcome)

@Spirit
We're in the destruction classroom, and the teacher is in the classroom as well as far as I'm aware.

The Grand Arcanium (An Isolated DnD wizard school rp, new roleplayers welcome)

Kyvir Lokerakir & Garuda Pacifier

@Conscripts@Spirit

Kyvir’s scrutinizing eyes fell upon the young Human that approached him, and his brow furrowed. The man wore a semi-formal suit, one that revealed a bit of physical definition on his chest, but was otherwise high-standard. He stood a bit shorter than the tiefling, although most did, and was a bit leaner, but appeared strong nonetheless. ’Perhaps…” Kyvir mused internally, before responding to the young man’s greetings.

With a nod of his head, Kyvir responded;

”Greetings to you as well my Lord.” His grating voice sounded, knowing from the metal in his collar that the boy before him was of noble standing.

”Seasa hab-lle.” He continued in his guttural native tongue, before translating.

”Pleasure to meet you.”

”It is my pleasure as well.” Garuda glanced at him shortly as he lightly inclined his head. His first impression, aside from noticing his strength, was he was also polite in return. Not exactly to the noble’s standards, but comparing to the typical Tieflings he imagined, a much more peaceful manner. And that was good for starter.

”My name is Garuda Pacifier”

”Amin Kyvir Lokerakir.” The tiefling responded, not bothering to translate.

”For your reputation, and for being here, you must be capable.” Garuda glanced him up and down. ”A bit strange that I did not sense your power on the orientation day...given that you are also in the first year.”

Kyvir nodded, acknowledging Garuda’s thinly veiled compliments as he took a few steps further into the room. Walking past the human as he surveyed the rooms interior, he added the room’s layout to his mental blueprint of the facility before speaking.

”Mine is not a Val to be noticed.” His corse accent switching to his native tongue and back, ”My Nosse Orn, ancestry, has a different kind of power.”

”Interesting…” Garuda muttered

”Your attendance must mean you are capable as well, yes?” He asked, the black orbs of his eyes falling back upon Garuda.

”Indeed I do… He said, pridefully and confidently, as a ball of white Natron momentarily materialized in his hand before vanishing. ”An esteemed to be warrior and defender of the Acity Empire, there is much I can show you. About the art of combat.” The subject soon shifted to battling, which is Garuda’s final intention: a rivalry. Hopefully, the Tiefling would catch onto that, in a way that did not portray Garuda as some sort of maniac.

The tiefling’s eyes narrowed as the human before him spoke, and had to bite his tongue to avoid laughing at the notion that this boy, Garuda, could teach him something about combat. He had been forced to fight to the death for his entire life, and he could tell by the look in his eyes that Garuda had never felt what it's like, tearing a soul from flesh.

”Perhaps you can, but I would caution you not to be so… forthcoming, in the future. He responded, having paused momentarily to determine which word of the common tongue best portrayed his meaning. ”After class, we can see what we can teach each other, yes?” The tiefling asked with an almost wicked smile, offering his hand to be shaken in agreement.

The statement has been taken. Just as he had expected.

His lips bit as a hint of amusement slipped his tongue. As expected of Tieflings, they were indeed creatures of harshness, having endured countless test of physicality and mentality. They had their experience, and pride. And there was nothing wrong with this kind of pride. Pride after all is the privilege of the strong.

”Yes.” Garuda gave a whole-hearted giggle, his tone glimmered with confidence and fearlessness. ”May we be able to find it.” The man took the hand of the Tiefling, as he shook it only once, but with a grip of a hundred men.

Worm - The Malfesant Throne

Mathias Park

@ProPro@FancyHats@Sickle-cell

---

At Maxwell's question, Mathias stepped forward and took the keys politely, pocketing them with a smile before placing his mask back on. Then, he turned to Tracer, hoping to answer at least her first question.

"We will be operating within close proximity with Anon, However he will remain just outside of our sight. If he is attacked, I understand he has a capable assistant that can likely protect him to some extent while we near his location. However; if Anon is attacked, it is part of our agreement that we do not attempt to look at him. If he's laying the in the street, there is not much that can be done to avoid looking at him; but if seek out his appearance, there will assuredly be drastic consequences."

With that, Mathias turned back to Maxwell, and waited to see if there were any more details or questions from the four individuals present.