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Recent Statuses

2 days ago
Current Little Bird is broken.
1 like
5 days ago
Apologies to those waiting on me. Work has been extra the past few weeks.
1 like
7 days ago
Sleep deprivation is a Hell of a drug.
7 likes
10 days ago
Effin work probably got me for hella OT this week. I'll get CS's and replies as best I can. ~Itbewhatitdoitdowhatitbe~
11 days ago
I just want to fall completely in love.
4 likes

Bio

Not born in a log cabin, I came into the RPing venture around 2009 and quickly joined about twenty roleplays more than I should have at the time. I've been around the internet in that time span, participated in and run RPs on multiple forums, and brushed shoulders with a wide variety of players and characters. Getting to work with new people has always been part of the allure of the experience.

My interests in RPing are pretty diverse, and not genre-specific; if there's room at the table and I can think of a dish to serve, I'll cook something up for just about any meal. If you know what I mean.

Most Recent Posts

Eyes opening as though pulled startlingly from a slumber, Zack felt himself plummeting head-first through what seemed an endless abyss of darkness. Panicked, he writhed and spun through the air with his best impression of catlike movement in the effort of correcting his position, hoping that his feet might find ground to land on. His hair began to fly upward, his helpless body feeling the acceleration of its descent into the unknown depths below. Faster and faster, it seemed each shift in his alignment exacerbated the sense of falling, until... Finally! He managed to set his feet below him; he at least stood some chance if he could just land on his feet.

However, just as his body righted itself into a better landing posture, he felt the speed of his dive slow. He was no longer in a perilous free-fall; where he should have reach terminal velocity, a force began to counter his momentum. Rather than slamming in a knee-shattering impact, Zack slowly floated as if struck by a weightlessness. Gently, and beyond relieved, he set down softly upon a barely visible surface of an obscure material. As if activated by the pressing of his feet against it, the surface suddenly lit up with a sudden brightness with no apparent origin.

Now bathed in the ethereal light, Zack could clearly see where, and what, he was standing upon. His eyes widened in disbelief. Firmly beneath his weight was a large, circular space, formed by what felt like a sort of stone, yet glowed similarly to stained glass filtering light. Set upon the surface was a massive scale, mosaic style work of art. Wanting a better view of the imagery, Zack stepped back several paces, faltering to regain balance as his heel landed upon a sudden nothingness. Shocked, he spun about, he peered downward. He let out a harsh gasp at the view... or lack thereof. The structure he was standing on was a sort of tower, or pillar, that spanned downward so far the that darkness surrounded it.

Sighing out relief from this near miss, he turned back to view the mosaic more clearly. Familiar figures: himself and some of his classmates from school, were the focus of the design. Perplexed, he tread curiously toward the center of the pillar.

"So much to do, but so little time..."

A voice broke the eerie silence. Zack, flustered, looked around, drawing his fists in expectation. But there was no one else around.

"...Take your time."

Zack loosened up, and stopped for a second. The voice, he realized, was calling not from somewhere in the darkness, but from somewhere deep within himself. It was clear as his own thoughts, yet not his voice; familiar, yet foreign at the same time.

"Walk forward..."
"Can you do it?"


The voice need not have asked; Zack, without hesitation, set his steps toward the center of the mosaic. Then came a quiver and a quake; it felt like the pillar was shaking. Zack adjusted, finding his balance enough to focus on what was happening before his eyes: three stone pedestals rose from the floor, somehow without breaking through the material of the mosaic. Each was bathed in its own light in addition to that which lit the pillar. Upon all three pedestals where items, weapons of sorts; one was a shield; the other a staff or wand; the third presented a sword. All three weapons bore the same emblem.

"Choose."

On instinct, Zack moved swiftly towards the pedestal bearing the the sword. He clasped it in a ceremonious fashion, as a knight might receive a gift from a king. He brandished the blade before himself, carefully inspecting it. While it hadn't seemed so at first glance, it was quite formidable up close. The blade was sharp, the tip pointed to perfection, the weight balanced and easily handled. Still, he felt a heaviness, though more so in his heart rather than his in arms or shoulders.

"Power of the Warrior. Courageous strength. A sword destructive power."

A duty? Responsibility? he wondered before another rumbling shook him, forcing him to abandon the pedestal. All three pedestals, as cleanly as they had emerged, sunk back into the floor.

"There will be times you have to fight."
"Now?"

A cluster of shadows raced across the mosaic floor, homing in on Zack's position. As they drew closer, they rose from the floor into the forms of five, wild looking creatures, pure black, wide, sinister, yellow eyes. They split from each other, circling Zack like ravens eying their next meal. But Zack, without knowing it, could see clear what he needed to do. He gripped the hilt of his new sword firmly. As the first shadow pounced, he swung the blade up on a diagonal, slicing through the creature as it fell towards him; it's form dissipated into a black, smoke-like substance before vanishing completely.

Zack turned, facing the other four shadows. Another made a leap towards him. Fluidly, he slashed the blade on a horizontal, cutting through it just as easily as the first. The third ran along the ground, sinking into the floor as it moved towards him, and then rising back up, scratching at Zack's leg. Gritting his teeth against the unexpectedly sharp pain, Zack pulled back, and dropped his blade, cutting through the beast.

Two of the creatures now remained, and both, learning from the error of their three packmates, assailed Zack in unison, both running at him from the side. Zack quickly shifted to his left, putting space between himself and the shadow coming from his right, while thrusting the blade through the one on the left. The shadow dispersed, and Zack pulled the sword back, bashing the last shadow down with the pommel of the hilt, knocking it to the ground. The creature, flustered but not defeated, staggered in recovery from the hit. Wasting no time, Zack charged on the monster, driving the tip of the blade through its head.

Feeling victorious for a moment, Zack breathed heavily in search of his breath.

"The closer you get to the Light, the greater your shadow will become."

On cue, another shadow appeared. This one, however, emerged from underneath Zack where he stood. "My shadow?" The shadow grew exponentially, rising from the ground, yellow eyes opening and glaring down upon the young warrior with malice. At least two stories tall, the hulking, muscular beast loomed over Zack and readied itself to strike. "No. No! No!" Zack wailed as the massive fist barreled into him, breaking his feeble attempt to block or parry the strike. He closed his eyes, shamed in the impending, overwhelming defeat.

"But don't be afraid."

Beneath his feet, Zack felt a strange oozy substance forming in a pool. Slowly, he began to sink into the shadows, while lashing out in a fruitless effort to escape.

"And don't forget."

He slashed and thrust as much as his arms could, but each cut his blade made into the shadows mended almost instantly, returning even stronger and ticker than before.

"You hold the mightiest weapon of all."

Zack tightened his closed eyes and held his breath as his head fell through the pool. Then, there came a complete silence, and finally, the voice calling one last time.

"You are the ones, who will open The Door."

---------/---------


Zack awoke, his torso bolting up right as his eyes flew open in shock and fear. His face felt cold, and his body numb as he began to come fully awake. His senses, foggy at first, slowly returned to him. He heaved a deep breath, and looked around to confirm that he had indeed woken up. He craned his neck up at a sudden rattling, clanking noise above him. "The trains." He shifted to a seated position, setting his feet on the floor. and sank thoughtfully into the couch cushion. He had fallen asleep in the spot that he and friend often hung out at; "The Usual Spot" as they called it, tucked into a back alley of Twilight Town.

"A dream?" he thought. He stood up, the weight of something upon his lap falling to the floor. He looked down, his train of thought broken. At his feet lay his Struggle Bat; he had been holding it even as he slept. He shook his head, dismissing the dream. He had no time to dwell it. Kneeling down, he grabbed the Struggle Bat, propping it over his shoulder as he headed out into the alley to train.
@Wayward I'll accept it, but I'm also officially closing applications after this. So you'll be the last player I'm allowing.


Thank you.
Hoping I'm making it here in time to join up. A return to roleplaying is sorely needed, and I've been sitting on this character for a few years. lol

Name: Erik Z. Osteriecher Jr. | “Zacharius Eckert” (‘Zack’)
Age: 16
Gender: Male

Appearance:


Bio: Erik, or “Zack” as he’s grown preferable to, has been subject to what has at best been a checkered upbringing. He was raised, for the greater part of his life, by a single father, never knowing his mother as she died due to pregnancy complications upon his birth. Yet the father-son bond that might have been expected between the two was nearly non-existent; though maintaining financial stability, a steady housing arrangement, and proper nutrition for his son, Erik Sr. was generally divested from his son's early life. The rare moments of connection between the two frequently came when Jr. would seek to train in swordplay with his father, who had been a rising star in the town’s annual Struggle Tournament.

Even so, the sessions were far from supportive development of a father teaching a son. Zack’s dad employed a relentlessly ‘Spartan’ philosophy of sink or swim. Zack often found himself trailing far behind his father on morning runs, and left to stagger himself to his feet after practice matches even after Erik Sr. had returned to their house to rest.

Despite this, or perhaps in spite of it, the son persisted in following his father. Zack was determined to find an even keel with his father, even as the parent seemed set on ignoring him when not roughing him in training. The young boy was perpetually at the ringside during the man’s Struggle matches, never missing a single one; he was confident that the pursuit of this competition was the path to manifesting the bond he saw with his sole caretaker. It was in this that he would bear witness to Erik Sr. winning two consecutive Struggle Championships. Elated by his father’s accomplishments, Zack attempted to offer his praise, only to be crowded and pushed away by a swath of fans and press writers.

It was in the aftermath of Erik Sr.’s second Struggle victory that Erik Jr.’s life took it’s biggest hit: the departure of his father, leaving him little more than a note saying “I’m leaving; important business.” and some spending money to get him by for a while.

Unable to fully support himself, the young Erik spent the next several years floating between the homes of friends and schoolmates. Though finally in the midst of more loving and morally supportive caregivers, the boy’s aspirations towards a meaningful relationship with his missing father stuck with him. After much time dedicated to his own training, he began competing for the Struggle Tournament, in the hopes that a good showing in the event would bring his father back. Facing initial difficulties, he was, in his first attempts, unable to make it past the preliminaries. It was also in this time that Erik Z. Ostereicher Jr. found himself living deep within his father’s shadow, prompting him to adopt his new moniker of Zacharius “Zack” Eckert, a name crafted from his middle name and what he knew to have been his mother’s maiden name. Like a shot in the arm, this newer sense of self propelled Zack into making a run to Struggle Finals, and a chance to win a championship for himself.

Personality: Zack stands within the intersection of several psychological crossroads, and amid his share of unresolved conflict. He outwardly presents a genuine confidence, which in itself comes from an honest sense of self-worth; yet he’s obscenely driven to continue working even after the work is done, never truly seeing himself as having arrived anywhere or achieved anything of note, and only seeing the next level without fully appreciating whatever one he may be at in a given time. He’s earnestly skilled and well-honed for his age, yet makes brash decisions in his endeavors, often taking on challenges that may (and typically do) best him in the end. Deep down, he remains single-minded in his effort to connect with the father who abandoned him for unknown purposes, yet openly despises that he has ultimately been perceived by others as a carbon copy of that father.

In many ways he takes after Erik Sr., chiefly in a manner of shortsightedness when it comes to those around him, frequently moving along with things even as they would stop to rest; it’s not uncommon for his friends and classmates to usher him back from his insistence on the “constant grind.” Though fully carrying a friendlier disposition than his absent parent, he maintains a similar drill sergeant mentality, being one to push those around him, sometimes to their own displeasure, as he easily gets carried away in the belief that he is merely pushing others to achieve their best. This behavior is not beyond reproach or control, though the manic nature in which it manifests requires a firm hand and a strong personality to corral him back to his better senses.

Weapon: (Everyone will be able to become a Keyblade Wielder when the plot gets rolling. So go ahead and leave this blank until then.)

Spells: (Similar to the Keyblade. You'll be learning these after the plot picks up, so feel free to leave this blank for now.)

Abilities: (Attacks like Strike Raid or Sonic Blade can go in here, in addition to more passive abilities. But like with spells, leave it blank for now.)
Veronica


"Pff..." Veronica disdainfully waved off the Dean's comment as she returned to her office. "Like I need comrades." She turned about... only to find herself face-to-face with the girl she had watched earlier. "Huh?" Veronica glared in disbelief as the girl went on to explain how she was capable of handling herself. However, somewhere in the middle of it, she found her attention drawn from the other girl, further down the hall. Rounding a far corner was a gang of students, moving towards them in a tight, rowdy cluster.

"I hate to cut my introduction but I feel like you and I are not alone in the halls."

"I noticed," she said, as though reprimanding the girl for stating the obvious. "If you're sure about being able to handle yourself," she continued, now brandishing her spear and shield, "then prove it; I don't think this is the welcoming committee."

@sassy1085 @King Tai
I'm here. Sorry for ghosting like that. Had to unplug a for a little while for the sake of my mental health. Pandemic and whatnot.
Veronica


Other than dodging a few small scuffles along the way, Veronica's walk back towards her locker was an uneventful journey; so much as she'd have liked to have gotten involved in one tussle or another, none of it involved her, as far she was aware. Along the way, she kept her eyes peeled for her true prize: Righty. This was to no avail, however, as he seemed to have either abandoned his stakeout, or, to Veronica's scorn, dealt with by someone else. The girl scowled at the thought of not being able to give him what for. "The nerve of some people," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Leave the social justice to the real activists... oh."

Veronica stopped both her saunter and her muttering as she nearly collided with the woman standing outside of the office. "Sorry, ma'am," she said. She backed up a pace or two, regaining her bearings. It was then that she noticed that the woman seemed to be looking specifically at her. "Ummm..." she rest her hands on her hips, assuming a more defiant stance. "Can I help you or something?"
Didn't fully appreciate how rusty I've gotten at RPing. lol. Post is up.
( @sassy1085 )

"Hey Dollface~ What does pretty face like yours doing here?"
Here we go...
Veronica sat idly on what was left of a bench just inside the school's entrance. From where she sat, she could see and hear the unfolding scene just outside: a female student being confronted by a brutish trio of wannabe men. As usual, she thought, knowing full well that the boys' come-on was all sexual. Oh well. She rolled her eyes. Acting thoroughly uninterested in the altercation, she casually flipped through a textbook.

"Can you be a nice girl and talk?~"
Yup. Veronica nodded her head. She waited for a lash out, but it didn't come. Girl's gotta stand up for herself. Tucked crudely inside the textbook was a letter from the school's Dean. A personal invitation to join a task force to clean up the school's overwhelming gang problem. It was a tempting offer, now that she was reading it over again. But then again, it just meant possibly being on a team with more of the same 'bleh' the was harassing the girl outside. For the time being, Veronica had to fly solo, focus on her own mission if she could.

"Guys would like you much better if you smile more~"
Veronica smiled her own smile. As if. She gently closed her book, the letter still folded within. Maintaining disinterest, she pulled up from the bench, turning on her feet at the same time, and began the short walk to her locker. Occupying herself at her locker with mundane practices, she waited for the girl and the gang to pass by.

First came the girl... who walked into the nearby main office. So she's one of the others. Veronica knew from the letter that the task force members were to report directly to the Dean. Next, the gang passed by. Two of them continued down the hall, while the other, who had done most of the talking, stayed behind. "Unfinished business," he called to his buddies as he staked out by the office.

Taking cue, Veronica finished with her tasks and made her way down the hallway, flinging a shield over her back. You'll be sorry, she thought of the remaining boy. She'd deal with him when it wouldn't cause a scene. Coming around a corner in the hall, she found the other two thirds of the trio. Her first mark became appropriately clear as the other lackey turned back in her direction. As he walked her way, she ducked back around the corner out of his sight and positioned herself.

Her right foot twitched slightly on the whim of a magnetic pull. It shook eagerly as Veronica held it back. "Not yet," she whispered. Not yet... not yet... NOW. Thrown by a combination of magnetic force Veronica's own strength, the foot flew up in a vicious kick that caught the underside of the boy's chin. He lifted off the ground and tossed back a short distance as a hard, metal boot toe connected with his jaw. In landing he fell, mostly out of shock at a sneak attack. Clenching his bruised chin, he slid away as Veronica rounded the corner... she was smiling.

"What's the matter?" she said. "I heard you and your friends liked girls that smiled." She sauntered toward the boy, her smile fading with each step. She removed her shield, which then floated in front of her before pummeling, facefirst, into the boy’s knees. The sound of metal against bone was drowned by a painful howl.

As the shield returned to its owner, the boy, shuddering, began crawling away from Veronica. “Never,” she said, “talk to a lady like you did back there.” She stomped forward a step. “Never,” she continued, stepping forward again, “let your friends talk to a lady like that… Got it?” the boy, tearing as he crawled, gave a defeated nod, and started to crawl even faster.

Half satisfied she turned about, and walked back down the other hallay. “That takes care of Lefty. Now to pay Righty a visit.”
<Snipped quote by Wayward>

The one guy. I think she will run into the other two of that gang later.


I was figuring to have Veronica "help" with that... in her own way, if that's OK.
Working on my first post... was Kamiko confronted by the gang from her intro or just the one guy? My current draft is using that bit as context.
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