Jeep Wrangler

Trial of Shadows | Warrior Cats

I won't lie.

I shouldn't be interested in this, I really shouldn't.

But I might be interested in this.

Skyfall: A Coming of Age Story

It's only been five days, I'm sure everything is okay.

Persona ~ The Beholder

---

_{Interacting with: @Hero}

---

Cara fumbled around with her phone, taking it out and losing her attention to something inaudible to Laurence. He wasn't quite sure what she was looking for, or what had caught her focus. At first, he didn't pay much heed, instead just looking near her for comfort. In the corners of his gleaming eye, he saw the distorted world as it had been since he came too. Horrific, jagged and terrifying, all the components of hell in one package. They moved without much solid direction, obscured indefinitely by the rising thickness of the fog. Laurence cursed himself under his breath, wondering if it was a nightmare or a dreamscape. The last night, he'd had a weird dream. He remembered it. The boat. The captain. The other one. All in darkness, not dissimilar from the tonal emptiness of their own world. To remember that strange sensation and experience was to let himself falter in delusional fantasy.

The buildings didn't change. They wandered in one direction and hoped something would change, retracing the steps they'd taken in the real world. There didn't seem to be an exit at all. Not one in sight. Nothing. Nada. Nyet. Nien. No escape. Same route. Over and over. Laurence felt his chest hurt, as if he'd been hyperventilating. He quickly held onto Cara's sleeve, just to ensure he didn't lose his way in the thickness of the fog. Neither could see where they were going, most likely. Purgatory sure did smell awful.

"Hey...where do you think-" He began, only to see her lost in her phone and snapping her eyes back up.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" He kept quiet for a few seconds, hearing nothing but the wind between them and the eeriness of distant shuffles. Both were out of sight and definitely not out of his mind. He faced her, concerned both for his own safety and the well-being of her. Had the realisation finally settled in, that she was in a world unlike anything she'd ever seen before? "Cara, I don't hear anything? Are...is everything okay?"

Cara's head whipped back in Laurence's direction, a response on the tip of her tongue before she decided to stare at him for a moment. "You don't hear it...?" She asked, completely uncertain. Laurence shook his head, also uncertain of what she was on about. Running her hands through her hair, she frowned as she looked around for a second before staring at an alleyway. She crossed her arms, deliberating on what to do. "...I hear a song coming from over there. It's the tune to a show my mom used to watch when I was a kid," She sighed. "I mean, it's been years since I've heard it, but I'd recognise that initial melody anywhere. Of course, I don't know why I'm hearing it, but..." She trailed off for a moment, lost in her thoughts.

In the moment, where she spoke without confidence or understanding, Laurence lost himself analysing her estranged findings. The way in which she talked to herself wasn't too dissimilar to that of his own musings, a strong hopeless wander through their aloud thoughts. He waited, quietly, for her to finish, listening out again. And there it was - a new noise. It wasn't recognisable in any way, shape or form. For him, it was distorted. Sporadic changes in tempo and pitch echoed through the winded skies. He could not recognise what she clearly could. Either he was insane, or her mother had a really strange taste in music.

"I...can hear something. Should we-...I mean, like...I don't know if it's safe to really poke around." At first, he appeared to speak timidly, finding himself indecisive over what their situation was. Within seconds he'd found his footing, and spoke with relative confidence. "Cara, I'm not sure if this is safe. Where are we? We don't know what's going on. A creepy song isn't exactly a good sign. Call it a hunch, but I've seen so many techniques on this stuff-" He stopped himself from ranting, feeling a slight self consciousness arising from a leaderlike ramble into his professionalism. He wasn't sure why it embarrassed him, it just did. Instead, he felt his grip on her sleeve tighten slightly, just out of stress and fear.

The brunette hesitated for a moment, scratching her chin as she thought to herself. She seemed to agree with Laurence on the surface, although she couldn't keep her attention away from the alleyway. After deliberating for a second, she turned back to Laurence, shaking her head. "I know you're right. But it isn't like we have any other clues, and maybe it's a sign of someone else being around? Someone that could help?" She suggested. "It's between that or just wandering around otherwise."

"You really are driving a hard bargain..." In seconds, he seceded and stood closer to her. If it weren't for just the few centimetres of fog between them, he'd have been physically latching onto her out of fear. He took a deep breath and sighed, looking at his own reflection in the broken glasses of the nearby ransacked, concrete buildings. "Look, call me a pussy if you want, but you're going first. This is your idea. I don't like this fucking setup we have going on here but I might be putting my life in your hands. I barely know you, too. You better make this work, okay?" He stood in front of her, forcing himself to look her in the eye. It was hard to do, but he managed. And as he spoke, that little Polish voice poked its head out from its hiding spot. Truly, the day had been a wild, yet fearful, one already. "Tell me this is going to go okay, Cara. Please...I need something."

Cara gave Laurence a nod without hesitation. "That's fair, it's my stupid idea to begin with," She replied. "But don't worry, if it's dangerous, we can run. And if whoever is over there decides to give us a problem, I'll handle them. I'm tougher than I look." She rummaged through her bag, pulling out a pair of fighting gloves. Slipping them on and fiddling them after a few seconds, she gave him a wink. "Just stay close and follow me, I'll keep you safe."

And as she took point, leading ahead, he felt one of those heart-aching chest pounds that hammered in his anxiety. This time, it wasn't over fear for the world. It was just like with Fiddle. He looked at himself in the broken glass again and fiddled with his hair slightly, unsure of if he'd even still resembled a presentable young british-polish boy. And as she took the first step, he muttered to himself sweet praise at the beauty that came about the harsh darkness of the day. And whisper to himself did he do, regardless of if he was actually loud or not.

"Angels...fuck, is this what being religious feels like?""

---

_{Encountering - @Lugubrious}

---

The hounds made their move. She watched with a decrepit spitefulness in her tongue. A hunger latched onto her stomach. Things needed to be killed. Instead, she found herself stalking. She saw people, figures that were unlike any shadow she'd recognised. Four of them. In weird orders. Walking together. Talking like normal...people? Their spread out was immeasurable, hard to keep track of in the heat of her own confusion. Something was off. Something was different. The tables had turned. She had a sore sickness in her head, one that nauseated her and made her lose her focus. Instead of going in on the shadow, she felt the sickness keep her in place. She latched onto her perched spot and blinked several times. By the time she came to properly, they had moved on. She could still sense them though. The smell was pungent. She no longer grinned with confidence. Instead, an uncertain stomach ache beckoned her hunger forth. And then, she commenced her pursuit.

They'd split. She could sense them in different locations, spread down a multitude of streets before ending up in the same place again. However, in the distance, one of the usual roads suddenly changed into something far more devious. Gone were the usual jagged buildings of green and grey, and in their place sat a vile representation of gold. Towers, statues. A new world was born right before her eyes. She could not make sense of it. It was something she hadn't seen for...years...oh god.

She lunged forward, striding from rooftop to rooftop. The grapple took her high and traversed the invalid obstructions before her. Something was very off. The close she came, the worse her gut became. What was it? Was it him? Were those people him? Were they all him? Had he sent them? Were they innocent? Things to kill? Shadows driven by something...oh no. It was more of them. Like her. Like she used to be. She tapped her skull with her fingers, adjusting her mask. She couldn't accept it. They couldn't be them. She'd have to go down and kill them herself. They weren't real. Were they? She wanted to ask them. It was risky to do so. Careless. It went against her philosophy of survival and the routine that had kept her alive all those days, and weeks...and months...and indiscernible years. No. Her mind was going elsewhere. Focus. Tick tock. Don't lose focus. Talking to herself, she scouted atop a nearby roof, hearing the booming voices of microphones.

And she looked down below. There, she saw them again. Another figure was there. She looked exactly like the silver haired one. Dressed a bit more eccentrically, for her taste. Oh, but who could she talk about, her fashion sense was that of a plague doctor on cocaine wearing a hoodie. Nothing of the ordinary. She remembered clothes like that, from another time. Time was gone. Wasn't it? Always falling away, the second that once was being locked in a faint world known as memories. Much like her. Locked away. For what? Or was she locked away? Was she stuck there willingly, looking for a goal, or hiding from the other place? No, she couldn't talk about that. Not now. She spied them further, scrutinising their every move. They spoke, it looked like teasing. She couldn't quite tell. But then, it clocked. They looked the same. Exactly the same. The first didn't seem like she recognised the other. This was not...they were not the same. And it took that slight memory, that passage of time that was once lost to the aeons of nothingness, to realise what she was looking at. It was another one of those cases. And without thinking, an instinct she hadn't felt long before arose. With her mask donned, she latched her grapple to the rooftop, and leapt off of the rooftop. She sailed down, spiralling as she did so, before landing uncomfortably on her own two feet.

She kept her distance, but took several steps forward. As she stood up, from her jacket, she drew out a firearm in one hand, and some sort of blade in the other. The magazine was already in its socket and she trailed it on the group with precise steadiness. Her hand barely twitched, as if she was born with it in her hand.

"H-Hey! No, I don't like whatever little shitshow is going on here. Don't like it." She spoke sporadically. Many a time had she not had to directly address her target, talking to them with the expectation of a response. Instead, she just yelled rather loudly, and dangerously considering her armament. "Y-You two, the twins or some shit....step away. I don't like you being together. Some of you shouldn't be here! Talk or I start blasting, y'here?"

Persona ~ The Beholder [Second Check to fill out last spaces]

I'd like to take a spot, if there's one left.

@TruthHurts22

There is a spot! Feel free to join the discord found in the OOC to discuss it a bit more! Should be the Fool and the Hermit that are free

Skyfall: A Coming of Age Story

What's the GM style here?
Is this more sandbox or do we wait for replies?
Fyi I'm using A combination of text to speech and phone typing and a lot of good thoughts until I'm in less medical condition. My replies will be slow. Do we have to post in order? Or is it more of an anarchy style?

@Utrax

I imagine its less an order and more a case of "who should" make a reply, like if you're in an interaction maybe there's not a lock on it? That's my guess.

Skyfall: A Coming of Age Story

_{The Castle}

---

He remembered the hour in which he arrived at the castle. It felt special, different to the other tribulations that had stood in his path of life. Twelve acres of plumed memories waned to the admiration he felt at the fort. It was alien, by all accounts, to see the climax of a stationary civilisation. Movement would be its downfall as it rested in the bricks of its great foundation. The grandest form of architecture he'd seen in all of his days, right before him. And he was inside. The others hadn't shown up, presuming there were others to come. Surely there would've been. He remembered the invitation, the call to duty, that he'd received. Roe'wynn had been very much unaware as to why he was picked. He was a nobody, a faint aspect to society and mankind in its entirety. A stain, perhaps, or a false idol in the midst of a chaotic aeon. It wasn't that he cared...maybe. He thought he didn't care. Either way, he appreciated the chance to do something with the days that had their meaning taken away.

Sat in a cold seat in the middle of some meeting area, he went about his minutes watching Aurin coil and turn around. He hadn't really met any other Eidolon's in his passing, only seen the occasional at a distant glance. Whether they were like Aurin was another question. It seemed to float with little knowledge of what it meant to be a spirit. Playful in attitude, coiling and curling around him with its great flexibility, and snuggling against his neck like a scarf, made for an interesting companion. Yet it could not communicate. They couldn't communicate. Roe'mynn didn't know what Aurin thought or said whenever it spoke its primitive tongue. Yet Aurin understood Roe'mynn, and in a way that was enough to get through the trials between them.

"It's so quiet being so static." He thought aloud, yet permitted to a low mumble. "It hav's low peace. Anxious, I feel. Do you feel it too?"

Aurin squeaked its usual toy-like noise. God, for someone as stoic as Roe'wynn, he couldn't help but feel his heart melt at the tenderness of the spirit's voice. He hated admitting that this was his most liked trait, considering all that he went through upon finding the creature. Either way, he still felt himself drifting at the mind, thinking of things other than sounds, or rather a lack thereof. Everything was so still, like the Kingdom itself. It didn't move. It spent its days perched in one place, and just expanded how big its place was. It never moved like Roe'wynn had known all his life. Perhaps civilisation wasn't in search for something, like the community had. It was different. He wasn't used to how different it was. He suggested to himself that maybe it was down to the fact that he knew nobody. Aurin was the only consistency in his life. And maybe the call to arms he accepted would change that. He didn't know. Maybe they would be fools, or geniuses. He just hoped that they'd accept him for what the community once had.

Skyfall: A Coming of Age Story

I'll try to get something up soon

Skyfall: A Coming of Age Story

Roe'mynn, the Dexterous Nomad

---

---

Name: Roe'mynn
Age: 18
Appearance:
As 5'8" a, loosely built man with a semi-raggedy look, Roe'mynn doesn't come across as the individual he is. Though lean, he doesn't showcase much muscle visually and looks rather average. Long umber hair drapes down to the back of his neck and circumnavigates his ears, all the while being generally ignored in style and ruffled to a untouched, virginal manner. Almost as if it were coated with flickers of dirt, his skin is a slight tone darker than being completely pale. And, though out of place, a feature of common interest seems to be his hazel-emerald blend in his iris, adding a splash of colour to his eyes. However, his complexion is rather sweet, smoothed by the gift of youth. When it comes to his attire, Roe'mynn tends to keep himself lightly clad, as to not weigh himself down.


Personality:
Unlike some adventurers, Roe'mynn can come across as a constrained young man with little input on life. However, with quick realisation, one would discover that he acts more as a person who puts value in blessings of the day, and the spoils of the night. Honour is not a concept he holds close to heart nor does he think of it as a pathway to solidarity. His upbringing taught him of present troubles to the civics of prosperous lands. An underbelly always exists - those who know of its cynical reality can learn to survive before others can. Regardless of him bordering cynicism, Roe'mynn can detach himself and become a rather cheerful individual, someone who enjoys the company of others on his travels and covertly depends on it for meaning. For he does not live life to achieve reward, as there is no goal for Roe'mynn to ascertain. He lives as days go past, hoping that the next chapter in his years would give him something to hold onto dearly.


Background:
And when civilisation returns, building kingdoms, towns and cities to house its people, there is always a group separated by culture. Nomadic, yet familial, the Wyandurah People were a small, closely tied community that moved by foot and hoof. In search of something, a select few individuals lead the group through the northernmost regions above Ahmeryca, where their origins are loosely connected to. These were the people that housed the birth of Roe'mynn, second son to the third collective of the tribe. Life was always met with great difficulty as their greatest foe surrounded them at every second: the unforgiving world of nature's climate.

The people, however, were not pushovers. Roe'mynn was brought up on the virtues of resilience, a testimony to their generations of survival. As per the civil roles, Roe'mynn was brought up as a defender, a child who trained vigorously to ensure that the people remained safe from threats. He was by no means a hunter, but a few times had proven the value of arming oneself. Specifically, he seemed to gain great proficiency with polearms, coupled with his natural dexterity. Eventually, he upgraded to a light, versatile glaive, shorter than most of its counterparts. Quick with his hands, all the while calculated and precise in where he landed his hits, all Roe'mynn knew was how to stay on the move and look out for the families that enlisted his help. Life became not about individuality, but the effort of the group and the housing of affectionate company. The community cared about each other and did everything within their powers to maintain their numbers if danger arose. As long as they kept moving in almost senseless directions, they could keep their eyes on the food they needed and maintain their course from settlement.

He trained from the moment he hit eight, and upon reaching the age of thirteen he saw his first encounter with the fabled creatures of the wild - the destructive prowlers that lurked in the mythos of Ahmeryca. And whilst he never fought them during the encounter, he used his nimbleness to whatever commands his elders gave him, be it distraction or supply movement. Following that day, he soon encountered something unexpected - his Eidolon.

On the banks of Ahmeryca, during a torrential rainstorm, Roe'mynn was separated from the nomads. Traditions of his family kept him alive for the first day, until he stumbled upon the spirit that would alter his life's journey for good. Initially, Roe'mynn tried to kill it, seeing it as a monster distorted by the feats of its past. The Eidolon immediately took a liking to the young boy's tenacity to stick a sharp blade into it, eventually wearing him down overtime through a light pursuit. Roe'mynn never understood why the creature took a liking to him, as if it were reading his thoughts or heart before his actions. After much exhaustion, the Eidolon spoke to him and catered for his safety until the rainstorm passed two days later. Compliant with his company, Roe'mynn offered it the opportunity to accompany him back to the nomadic people, as he believed it'd proved itself as an asset of survival. This was a poor choice, of course. When they eventually crossed paths, the Wyandurah People were mortified at the implication of the boy accepting the influence of the creature, and thus in an act of rage he was exiled westward, toward the shore, and told to find the community that would take him for what he was.

Three years have passed now. Roe'mynn doesn't have a community. He roams between towns within the Kingdom of E'lyzahbyeth from time to time, sometimes doing jobs, sometimes getting into hassles with low-end authorities, all with the Eidolon in close proximity. His lonesome travels have allowed him to further his polearm and glaive skillset, creating an independent young man with a grim view on the places he came from. One day, a great star flushed through the night sky. And when word spread of Elders looking for young talent to investigate its occurrence, Roe'mynn was amongst the first to put his name forward - not because of the promised wealth, the spoils of honour or the chance to see the outside world, but because he wanted a sense of purpose again.

Skills:

• Polearms - Specifically with the glaive, Roe'mynn has spent extensive and apt amounts of his childhood honing his ability with weapons of the class. Having a sharp blade postured into the body of a staff finds itself as the perfect combination, scaling it down ever so slightly to account for his smaller stature. Though they can prove tedious and burdensome in tight spaces, unlike a dagger or shortsword, his nimble fingers and accurate handiwork does its best to negate the troubles of his innate choice of martial fighting.
• Judicious Dexterity - From childhood, he always expressed a talent for his hands. Whether its with working on small mechanisms, threading needles or twirling poles between his fingers, Roe'mynn is proud of the handiwork he can commit to. It proves useful in a lot of situations, such as climbing, as well as any hand-based work.
• Nomadic - Being a nomad isn't just a status of constant movement. It's a lifestyle, in which survival is tested on the daily; where communities have to work together to provide for one another. Food, water, clothing, logistics and protection are the main pillars of a stable community. Rationing, improvised warmth and temporary shelters are menial work that he can provide to a small group of travellers alongside him.

Gear:

• Short Glaive - Though the weapon itself was considered a relic of the past, the high-carbon spring steel polearm, acts as a sturdy improvement over wooden counterparts, capable of bending and stretching itself whilst maintaining its strength.
• Tanto Boot Knife - Boot knives, doubling up for hunting and light craftwork, act as common emergency weapons for dire circumstances.
• Attire - Still rooted within the nomadic clothing he grew up with, layers of scarfs, light jackets and cloth act as protection from the elements and remove the hindrance of weight during combat. Occasionally decorated with belts, wraps, straps and fur, sitting atop of toe-capped boots and cargo trousers.
• Travel Pack - Stored dry meat and grain foods. Two clean cloths. Small canteen and a whetstone.

---

---

Name: Aurin

Appearance:
Aurin appears as a transparent otter, glistening with an angelic, ethereal-like effect. Though transparent, with no discernible endoskeleton, Aurin does appear to be a living manifestation. Anyone can touch him and feel the cloud-like furry goodness of its spirited coat. Despite looking like a ghost, it cannot pass through solid objects, but it does seem to ignore gravity and floats around freely without too much restriction.


Abilities:

• Strong Gusts - As a creature of wind, Aurin acts as a defensive and evasive Eidolon. Using quick, widespread gales, it can try to push back nearby opponents, or enough to stagger them, giving Roe'mynn more space to work with.
• Concentrated Airburst - Instead of spreading the gusts around a wider area, Aurin can concentrate its windpower to more precise areas, or singular directions, which allows for greater precision. Creatively, it acts as a way to deflect specific targets, or to throw Roe'mynn at slightly extended distances for lunging at targets, dodging attacks or traversing terrain. However, due to the nature of its concentration, Aurin appears to get tired out a lot quicker when doing so.

Persona ~ The Beholder [Second Check to fill out last spaces]

I'd be game I guess

@DeadDrop

If you wanna join, just follow the discord link and read up on the OOC please

~ The Rosalie District - Art of Sound ~ [Music / Slice of Life]

Sup Stuff. I never expected you to come out with a slice of life rp. I'm game if you'll have me. I need a break from the magical rps I'm in.

@silvermist1116

Sure thing. We've got a bit of a mini player crisis with some of them vanishing

Feel free to whip up some characters, though I'll warn that if we can't get that much more I might have to for alternatives within the RP.

Speaking of which, I forgot to post this here: Discord Link. I tend to use this server as a space for OOCs and for easier communication, so if you're in the RP still hop into it and just let me know what you're there for and we can work some stuff up (less going back and forth and more direct communication innit) @alexfangtalon@Asesina.

Hokum and Bee are already there 'cause hell yeah