LimeyPanda

Chrono Asylum: Prelude to Madness~

Narrator, Can you describe what you mean by Self-Alteration? That can be a lot of things, ya see.

Chrono Asylum: Prelude to Madness~

Well, thanks for all the feed back. I suspected there would be a number of issues: and I was correct.

It seems the core concept is flawed in its entirety: so I'll probably work the entire idea from the ground up: including the age, the Alc-tech and the core 'Father-Daughter' combo.

Chrono Asylum: Prelude to Madness~

Well, I'm only one character down: but since both mods (congrats for the promotion, Ryver) I want to see how he goes down.

Meet Bjorn.

Bjorn

Name: Bjorn Matthews

Nickname/Title: Baskerville, Lycanthrope, Wolfman.

Team Title: Team Dynasty

Gender: Male

Age: 39

Position: Asylum

Specialty: Hunter- Bjorn Matthews has played the Hunter role for the two women of the Matthews line: His deceased wife and his daughter: both of whom were or are silencers.

Alchemic Style: Primary- Motum, Secondary-Vocum

Asylum Code: XL (40) the number is etched over his heart: Interestingly, Bjorn suffers from Situs inversus, meaning his heart is on the right side of his body.

Weapons:

1) Scoped Crossbow, Shangri-La. -Shangri-La, so named after the mythical city of treasure, is a foldable crossbow that can be retracted down to the size of flute-case. The weapon is made of anointed wood, supposedly a branch of the tree Yggdrasil. If this is true or not has been debated heavily, but the weapon is able to launch specialised Anti-alchemy bolts: bolts that trespass through most Alchemy shields with ease.

2) Hatchet, Ussuri -A hatchet made of an alchemy forged steel alloy. It doesn’t have any special features other than being as stubborn and difficult to break as Bjorn himself. It a several teeth hanging from its head, including the tooth of a bear that he supposedly fought and killed in order to win the affection of his once-wife.

Alchemy specialization: Animal Transmodification- Bjorn is able to alter his body with the features of an animal. He can adopt a wolf’s nose or a cat’s balance with relative ease. The magic is most useful for tracking, however, with enough time, Bjorn can produce more dramatic changes: such as becoming an animal/human hybrid, for the intention of fighting or tracking. Level 3 limits him to taking on one animal feature at a time: he can’t have a hound’s sense of smell as well as a bear’s strength: for example.

Appearance: Bjorn is, no pun intended, a bear of a man. He stands at 6 foot 8 and weights well over 300 pounds of muscle-mass. His dirty blonde hair is long and shaggy and so very typical of the Nordic people from his home country. He seems to personify the Finnish blood inside his veins and some even go as far as to claim he is the reincarnation of a Viking hero. His eyes burn an intense blue colour, bright like the ocean, and his face is constantly full of emotion and covered in hair.

Personality: Bjorn is a man who wears himself on his sleeve. He laughs, rages and mourns with every fibre of his being. It is not in his nature to hide himself behind lies or misdirection and that has often enough gotten the man in trouble. Despite the issues it has caused though, people seem to value the honest Bjorn’s input, as well as his skills as a hunter and an Asylum.

Perhaps the most important motivation for Bjorn is the love he feels. He is a very dedicated man, and would readily give his life for his daughter: but his nature has made him somewhat protective of the woman: despite the fact she has killed more alchemists in her very short time as an Asylum than both himself and her mother combined. The coddling nature, combined with his daughters unveiled venom towards the man have led to a great many conflicts off of missions. Despite this, the pair always remains professional on missions: putting differences aside to honour the memory of the mother and wife they both lost.

On rare occasions, mostly after prolonged time alone or after Asylum missions, Bjorn might be found alone, reminiscing about the life he lived and the life he lost. He has been heavily affected by the duty he carried out, half a decade ago, and the A.M.R.O. have made sure that Bjorn undergoes an annual psyche evaluation.

History:

Before meeting his Wife, Bjorn was a simple, if not cocky, young Asylum-recruit. He took on dangerous and challenging tasks whenever possible, if only for the right to brag afterwards. Some considered him a braggart and a womaniser, who would never meet his match in a woman.

Then he met Carla.

Carla was an equally young and equally brazen Asylum who first made a rival of Bjorn, and then a friend. The two were paired together and soon they gained renown for their daring and their cohesion. Bjorn knew very early on he was falling for Carla, and soon the pair was engaged. It was unusual for Asylums to be so close, but not unheard of. Eventually, Carla’s belly swelled with a child, and the two agreed to marry. They had their first and only child: a daughter named Vigdis.

(I’ve skimped on most of the history, only referencing his early life Pre-Carla, and the defining event: Killing his wife.)

Many years later, the pair was still an inseparable pair, however: Carla was suffering much from the effects of the Insannadiction Effect. The order came down from the top that Carla needed to be put down, and initially Bjorn refused. He resolved to capture her instead: to pin her down and get her to retrieve her senses. The two clashed, and Bjorn found himself outmatched by his wife. She was without restraint, while Bjorn was holding back, for fear of hurting his wife.

He would have probably died that day, if not for certain circumstances. Only the highest ranking officials at A.R.M.O know what caused it, but Bjorn struck down Carla that day. It changed him, and for a number of years after, A.R.M.O allowed Bjorn to enter a monitored seclusion from his Asylum duty.

His daughter dragged him out of this exile and made him take her on as a partner. She made no bones about her hatred towards him for killing her mother: but the fact is that it needed to be done. She realises that well enough, yet to think her father killed the woman he loves…

Other: None Applicable.

There are a couple issues I guessed upon: such as the way teams worked and the process of recruits and such, as well as how missions work. I consider this Beta work.

Now to start working on Vigdis

Chrono Asylum: Prelude to Madness~

xodus said
Awesome, cant wait to see what you come up with Limey. I have seen a few of your posts on other Rps so I am confident your characters should be an entertaining read.

That is...oddly daunting. High expectations are scary, yo.

Working on a team now.

Chrono Asylum: Prelude to Madness~

I have been messaged about possibly joining this. The idea looks pretty fun, so I'll look at making a character tomorrow.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Got a post up. If anything needs to be changed, just say so. I'll edit it when I wake up in a few hours.

Your post was lovely, by the way Igraine, Kumbaya indeed

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

In an instant, the fire was snuffed out, ignored by the wolf-god as if it were nothing but a slight alteration to the office aircon. The flame was far too weak and the fire far too tame. How could she burn when she spent half her time holding it back from friends? She wasn’t that strong; nowhere near.

The feel of Fenrir in her mind, clawing in with a laugh: mocking and fearsome and all the other scary words that described him, was disconcerting to her: but surprisingly ineffective. Perhaps it was her near-comical ignorance of the gravity of the situation or, perhaps more likely, the fact she spent her every moment sharing her mind with a demon. Either way, the effect of Fenrir’s mental assault were dispelled when the guest in Jay-Jay’s head spoke out.

’It’s kind of poetic, really.’ Jay-Jay paused, left confused by the quizzical nature Katago̱gí’s words. It was a good thing that the End-bringer was focused on Henry, because the Fire-demon would have made a soft target.

“What are you even talking about Kata?” Jay-Jay spoke out loud, genuinely annoyed by the words of her demon: so out of place and so out of mind.

’We face our opposite…Or I do, at least. We are Fire, he is Ice; I am the Origin, he is the end.’

“How is that useful in anyway right now?” Jay-Jay again ignored the sanctity of inner-thought for spoken tongue. She was practically seething in anger at the demon. How could she ignore the brevity of the situation? This wasn’t the time for philosophy or something: their friends could get hurt or worse if they dawdle. “You aren’t even from the same time period. He’s Norse, you are Greek.”

’His purpose is the end of all things: Greek, Norse, American or otherwise. I have no doubt he would take great pleasure in snuffing us out, were he aware of just what I was: So much so that he might disregard your friends, for a while.’

Jay-Jay paused, then felt her smile widen. Katago̱gí had always been subtle when it came to stuff like this: teasing out information as a way of making the Host work a bit harder and try a little more. Always attempting to spark the thoughts and ignite the potential.

She needed to work some more magic. Weirder magic, though: not just fire and fury and stuff, but actually difficult, intricate magic: The sort of magic that could cause you to explode if you got it wrong. Jay-Jay got up, taking a few steps back from the Wolf-god, who had his back turned to her and seemed to be focused on somewhere else…or someone el…

The roar of the Wolf-god was drum-bursting-ly loud. The sound was so…hateful and so painful to hear, that she couldn’t help but crumple onto her knees, clutching at her ringing ears. She looked up and saw the full recipient of Fenrir’s rage.

Henry.

The Mage took about half a second to figure out what she was doing was a bad idea; but she didn’t care. Good plans weren’t exactly her forte.

She flung herself into Henry’s mind, creating a telepathic link between the two. Instantly, it felt like a sea washed over her like an ocean of sludge-like thoughts, crushing her under overwhelming weight. She cut the link instantly and almost gave in completely, in more ways than one. To feel such raw, unaltered emotion was painful: even for only a moment.

Her resolve was shaken, but then she saw Henry seemingly shrink under the weight of the Fenrir. To suffer that alone was…

Jay-Jay gritted her teeth, before re-opening the link with Henry. The floodgates opened again: washing her with every negative image of: death, fear, pain, suffering, chaos, betrayal and every other piece of pain that the wolf-god delightfully inflicted on the Nack. At first it was overwhelming, but the feel of something else was there: something altogether more familiar.

Perhaps this was a twisted version of Henry’s own magic, but it was Henry’s magic none-the-less. The Wolf and the nack were immune to it, for sure: but to a human, the touch of a Siren was still intoxicating in its own way; a strange, sickening, unhealthy intoxication, but an intoxication none-the-less.

Hard to believe that it was the Siren’s irresistibility that made the torment of Fenris bearable, but suddenly Jay-Jay felt a conviction forming: A dim, lonely spark in the murk, if you will. She felt herself pushing at the murk, trying to spark something that Henry might see, a hint of something other than terror and pain and doom.

Jay-Jay felt something strange, the absence of Katago̱gí was obvious and in truth, a little daunting. To think she was alone in helping her friend through this was frightful and the tiny fragment of something dimmed.

Self-doubt crept in: Was she in over her head? Had the demon abandoned Jay-Jay on the hopeless task? Would she be able to save Henry?

Then she exhaled, thinking about what her watchers in the wings would say. Oro-Mai would chastise her self-doubt as unfounded or illogical or some other long word. Katago̱gí would just hint at the truth of it all. She wasn’t here because she didn’t need to be, or something like that.

The flicker burnt again, brighter now as that sliver of self-doubt was evaporated by the thoughts of those precious to her. She couldn’t burn much brighter in the over-bearing murk. Just a mere candle light in the dark, dark night: but she burned none-the-less, it was just a faint little glimmer of potential; a tiny spark of something other than Fenrir’s despair.

She hoped Henry could see it; or feel it; or whatever: Jay-Jay’s little gift. She hoped the wick of it could light Henry’s way, because losing him would make everyone sad. They would keep their friends: their little, dysfunctional family.

That was all Jay-Jay could Hope for, anyway. She hoped Henry would see it, and she hoped he’d beat back Fenrir, with or without her help.

She hoped so, with all of her everything.

Legend of Renalta 2: Reborn

Alicia Le’roux - East Watchtower

---

If her tutors saw her now, they would be hurling a thousand chastising comments at the duellist. Her lessons had never been anything but gruelling, and so many of the basics were hammered into her by repetition and yet she had forgotten all of them.

She had spent more time thinking of her battle with Dirge, about how she would best the behemoth, that she was not giving her opponent the respect he deserved and even forgetting the most basic of information. He was quicker than she suspected, but she should have been faster.

No, she was faster. What had happened was she was had gone for a one hit-kill, and she had focused on flair. She was the better duellist: she was always the better duellist and yet her oversized ego might cost her dearly as she tried to rush things.

Arrogance, if anything, was Alicia’s greatest flaw. She was so used to getting her own way that, sometimes at least, she would lose every logical part of her mind in pursuit of her demanded outcome.

She glared up at Daren, coming down for a second swinging blow. The shoulder barge had been enough to knock some sense into Alicia, even if it didn’t hurt all that much. This blow was one from the axe: hungry to taste blood. Alicia was focused now, not worried about the other Queen’s blades, or ending this battle quickly. Dirge seemed to be honouring his opponents, and some other woman had begun an ineffective assault that might distract the armoured man.

No, Alicia was focused on Daren now, and on living. She grasped at the lithe grace provided by her fading vampire heritage and knew that this fight-as handicapped as she was by the time of day and her own impatience- was going to require a bit of patience and a little give-and-take.

She waited until the axe swung down to dodge, letting patience define her new manoeuvres. As late as she felt she could: she rolled to the left, away from the swing of the axe and the slam of the shield, in response to her dodge.

Assuming she lived, that far, she would roll again, putting herself onto her knees now as she jabbed at Daren’s neck with rapier’s tip. If it worked, he would be caught off guard. If it didn’t, at least she’d be on her feet enough to have a chance at dodging the follow up.

The Last Bastion: Bunker Chicago

Kadaeux said
Confession time:I'm sending a giant monster to attack Japan in 3 days time. Anyone in Japan, the safeword is teacup. Shout that loud enough to be heard and it might just not butcher you with its shoulder mounted laser cannons.But it might anyway. I didn't design it for discriminatory work.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

I did not even notice. It makes sense that Jay-Jay would miss people in the chaos...

...and I'm lazy. Part of the 'panda' territory I guess.