Kalimah

Tales from the ARK: Axiom (Fantasy Steampunk Free-form Nonlinear Viral Apocalypse!)

Aw sweet. I'm in.

Clash of the Cliques: Class Warfare

Steven Diggs - Punk Table

As the fingers closed around his throat, Steven Diggs had a single thought.

What a dumbass.

Who the fuck stumbles into Punk territory and starts demanding things of their most feared enforcer? What kind of fucking Preppie doesn't just send a servant? Steve had been in a good mood. Key word being 'had'. Past tense. He would have just let the boys keep her restrained while he asked what it was that she wanted. Hell, he might have even humoured her! With a catch, of course. But of course, she'd taken the stupidly violent approach and Steve's good mood evaporated. It was time to thrash a preppie, and even as the fingers closed around his throat, Steve's grin was manic.

Not a single one of the Punks had heard her threat, by virtue of the astonishingly loud Polish metal band currently blaring from Steve's toolbox. He'd wanted to play Van Halen but some idiot had shuffled his music library the other day and he still hadn't found the prankster. Probably Charro. Not a single one would hear her sing either. Tch. How dare she take the form of his beloved Danica? Steve wasn't aroused. He was insulted.

The Siren got halfway through something ego-stroking (Steve wasn't listening) right about the time Steve's fist collided with her face. Steven Diggs had not gotten this far in life by being squeamish about hitting girls, nor by being weak. All the girls talked about his body, ripped with military muscle, and all the other Punks talked about his inability to stay down in a fight. Almost simultaneous with the punch, his other hand pried the fingers away from his throat, breaking them in the process. One didn't lay a hostile finger on Steven Diggs, The Machine Head, and get away with it. Finally, his foot on the table lifted and kicked, sending the Siren flying away from him and on to the harsh concrete. There were a few crunching sounds, then silence.

He'd knocked the bitch out. Good. With a press of a button, the music abruptly stopped. "Fuckin' gag th'bitch, yo," he ordered, and two of the random Punks at the table fastened a gag around her mouth. Steve, meanwhile, had retrieved a small box of bandaids from his toolbox and was patching up his little neck wounds. He could have let them bleed, but it was unsanitary. "An' don'forget t'bind 'er hands. Take 'er back to th'prep table an' just dump 'er there. S'a warnin'. They best pray they got a medic, y'dig?" The two lackeys nodded and scurried off, dragging the broken and bleeding form of the siren with them.

That bit of work done, Steve dropped his ass back on to the bench. He'd already gotten to wail on someone today. Putting his hands behind his head and inadvertently showing off his tank biceps, he let out a happy sigh. Winter break was gonna be gooooood.

Clash of the Cliques: Class Warfare

Okay. Then with all due respect, watch your roleplay die. Because if there can't be peaceful interaction at all, then it's going to alienate people and they'll drop the roleplay.

Have fun, sorry to waste your time.

@Kaalee

I was gonna provide you with a way out but, well, with a post like that and a complete lack of understanding of auto-hit (seriously, the definition is literally the name) it seems you don't particularly care.

I'll just treat Scarlet as another NPC from here on out, with all the perks and drawbacks that apply. Have fun. Don't let the door hit you.

Clash of the Cliques: Class Warfare

@Kaalee

Whooooooaaaah. Dat auto hit.

Also.

"Her illusion, and her Song, but she's only ever used her Song in it's full capacity once. She'll use it in bits and pieces if she wants something but never the full Song."

Illusion, sure. Song, fine. No mention of super-throat-ripping auto hit powers nor fighting off a mob that intends to restrain her. Plus Scarlet has just committed an offensive action in the middle of Punk territory. The only actual outcome of that is Scarlet limping home, bloody, broken and bruised where the preppies are liable to mock her for being dumb. Consider the consequences of that post, 'cause they're gonna be dire. If you want to edit, feel free.

Clash of the Cliques: Class Warfare

Steven Diggs - Punk Table

PREPPIE!

Forget the fact that she looked exactly like Danica Patrick. The heel clicks, the lack of politeness, the domineering tone, hell, Steve could almost smell the money on her. Plus he was suspicious enough of everything these days to know an infiltrator when he saw one. Especially after that incident in the garage with Charro six months ago. They'd been cleaning the stains from that for weeks. And then Loose Lacey had clarified that she was a Siren. Fan-tucking-fastic!

"Grab 'er!" That was the first reaction Steven Diggs had. The second was the grin of absolute, malicious glee that formed on the enforcer face. Forget getting Charro out of here. Steven Diggs demanded satisfaction. Had a preppie really walked over here into hostile territory? Oh it was like Christmas! No, it was better than Christmas, it was the Daytona 500! She clearly did not get the concept of the Punk, and their murderous hatred for the Prep clique. His foot slammed on to the table, causing the toolbox to burst open. Something flew out of the open top, a remote for... something which the Punk enforcer snatched from the sky and triggered.

Immediately, the air was filled with the loud, crunching sounds of obnoxious thrash metal emanating from Steve's toolbox. It was enough to make it difficult to hear as the Punk flunkies moved out to grab each limb of the Preppie that had just entered their territory. One of them was carrying what looked like a gag. This girl wasn't an unknown to them, and her voice was her most dangerous weapon of all. They had to incapacitate her quickly, mouth and all, and thankfully they had the numbers. The preppie was cut off and alone.

Over the sound of the music, Steven Diggs roared. "You waltzed right th'FUCK own into th'wrong neighbourhood, mawfugga!"

Clash of the Cliques: Class Warfare

Steven Diggs - Punk Table

"'Ay Charro, stop bein shit, y'all!" was the call-out from behind Bronze Eyes. There stood the mechanic, and probably the scariest mawfugga in the Punk clique. It was Steven Diggs, the Machine Head, the Tank, the Fixer, the Mood Killer, wearing his patriotic red white and blue coveralls, coated in a layer of grease and dust and he had his toolbox with him. "Mawfuggin' crazy static girl be sleepin' own th' job, dawg. AGAIN! Bitch we ain't got taaaahme to fuck around, yo."

Steve dropped his toolbox on the table with an ear-cracking thud. It was not a small nor light piece of kit, and dramatic minds such as those of the ENTERTAINERS! might decide to get bombastic and think it was an earthquake or something. As it stood, though, back in the lack of reality, heads merely turned as Steven Diggs marked his territory before sitting down. While he was no leader or anything, he was something of the muscle for the gang, and anyone who wanted to get to the Punk leaders had to get through him.

"'Ay Static," he drawled, referring to the drooling sleepyhead by the mocking name everyone had picked up for her. "Where th'FUCK is fuckin' Loose Lacey? Bitch better be here like, fuckin' ten minutes ago dawg. An' ay! Put on th' NASCAR! Ah wanna see how mah Danica be doin', yo." Many a girl had attempted to get into the pants of the Punk enforcer, but all had failed for some reason or another. Maybe it was the hostility. Maybe it was the way he kept suggesting they needed to use four shotgun pellets, some whiskey and a rubber hand to treat their crabs. Maybe it was the gigantic poster of Danica Patrick on the wall of his room. Who knew?

Clash of the Cliques: Class Warfare

Name: Steven Diggs (Steve, Fixer, Machine Head, he's earned a lot of names)
Species: Human
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Danica Patrick
Appearance: See above. He's an average height guy (around 5'9") with brown hair, dark eyes and pale skin. He's muscled to the point of being ripped, although it's usually hidden underneath a jacket or jumpsuit. He doesn't wear the makeup that some other punks do. In fact, if he didn't dress like a punk, he'd look perfectly normal.

He often wears black or navy blue mechanic overalls covered with NASCAR badges, covered in some form of grease. His casual wear is generally what you see above which brings his appearance more in line with the rest of his crew.

Faction: Punks

Personality blurb: Steven Diggs is a bit of a dick. He disregards most opinions other than his own with a strange nonchalance, so secure is he in his knowledge that he's the best. He's more than happy to talk about himself in a tone resembling subtle bragging. He is almost always in control of himself and rarely gets angry, preferring to disregard people talking down to him since they obviously don't know what they're talking about.

He relaxes this attitude a bit when around friends. He encourages his self-superior views among his brothers the Punks. He considers his own position a lofty ideal to which everyone should aspire, and hey, if he likes someone enough he may even help them with that. He's brilliant, so why shouldn't they be?

Because of his belief in self-superiority, Steve looks down upon people who would place themselves above him. This would be the bullies, who physically attack him, the preps who's snobbiness is far worse than his own, the nerds who think they're so much smarter than him and the jocks who are dumb as a bag of rocks. And of course, he hates the Administration for representing control when he personally espouses freedom of expression.

Because his skills are in high demand, Steve does occasionally assist people he doesn't like (including the Administration) but uses this to obtain leverage over them. Whether it's a trap in the device he just fixed or something like a favour down the line, Steve helps you because it helps him.

He possesses definite bloodlust, enjoying fights and throwing himself into them with relish.

Steve enjoys speed and tinkering a great deal, being from a NASCAR family. In fact, that's part of the reason he's never seen with a steady girlfriend. His standards are so high that his yardstick is Danica Patrick.

Biography blurb: Steve's mother is a NASCAR driver, his father one of the mechanics on her team. It may not have been true love at first sight but it came, eventually. He was born in Daytona, Florida a bit over eighteen years ago. He had the standard American education, but he spent much of his time trackside assisting his mother and father. It was there that his unique talent began to develop.

After that came his early teens, and he was already developing into the slightly dickish guy we all know today. He didn't fit in in early high school. Those who shared his world-view shunned him as they were all far too rich. It wasn't long before he fixed up some forged documentation to get him sent to Sun Ridge Boarding Institution. His parents saw it as legitimate, and off he went.

Powers:
Fixer - Steve has the instinctive ability to identify things that need to be fixed, come up with a list of things he needs to do the fix, and then promptly do the work as though he'd been doing it for years, regardless of whether he knows what he's doing. This can range from things such as a broken down car, a crashed PC, a boxing match, or a broken heart.

Sometimes his solution is not the best method, which can result in situations where he asks for two feathers, a wire and a bowl of noodles to fix something as simple as a calculator with a flat battery.

This ability only works if Steve is aware a fix is required in the first place.

Abilities:
"Fixer" - Sometimes Steve lies about what he needs to fix something and then keeps what he requested for himself. This means he's quite good at procuring things kids his age should really not be getting their hands on.

Mechanic - Powers aside, Steve is a pretty dern good car mechanic. He's been working on the things for years, after all.

Driver - Having been raised by a NASCAR driver, Steve knows how to drive. He's almost as good as a professional racer, but their experience will beat his youth more often than not.

Fit - Steve is a tank. He's muscled to the point of being ripped and yes, he has a six pack. Comes from working out regularly and doing physical work all day every day. For that reason, he can and has taken more than more than a few punches and remained standing.

Toolbox Fighter - Steve's knowledge of fighting with his toolbox and tools is quite robust. Screwdrivers become shivs, wrenches become clubs, etc etc. He's a decent brawler without it, but he has no real training.

Weapons: Dude's got a whole toolbox. Screwdrivers, shifters, wrenches, you name it. Of course, technically it's school property, but he's known to carry it around almost everywhere he goes and since he's a tech student it is expected of him.

Other: He's a Florida boy with a sense of smug superiority who loves NASCAR. He also doesn't smoke or take any substances unlike other punks, preferring to stick to alcohol.