STATUS:
The past month has been strange. I've been diagnosed with something completely out of the blue and I've been feeling quite low about it. I'm not ghosting on purpose, I'm sorry.
7 yrs ago
Current
The past month has been strange. I've been diagnosed with something completely out of the blue and I've been feeling quite low about it. I'm not ghosting on purpose, I'm sorry.
7 yrs ago
Sorry for leaving a couple of my partners hanging. In between running a group RP, getting a new dog, and restarting university, my head's been everywhere and nowhere. Tomorrow is a soft mental reset.
7 yrs ago
Partner came home with a little wrapped box for a "super early Christmas." Inside was a gorgeous tartan collar. He's finally agreed to let me adopt a dog and I'm hyperventilating
5
likes
7 yrs ago
@Feyblue a tedious pre-RP discussion is usually a sure sign of failure, I'm afraid
1
like
7 yrs ago
Group RP is up and running and replies to my private RPs are almost finished. Sorry for keeping my partners waiting for a couple of days, I didn't realise how wild being a GM could be
Osahar's brow twitched upwards, and his head turned every slightly towards Kayo. Oddly blue eyes settled upon her, and his mouth had stilled into a hard line.
"I know, believe me." He murmured, his voice heavy with distaste. His gaze rolled up once more to face the man who stood not so far ahead.
Though Osahar was no stranger to standing in the Chief's shadow, today he knew well that the sun would begin to set upon the elder's reign, and one day hope to rise on his own. Though perhaps going by Osahar's demeanour, the retrieval of the Star of Anbrea was no doubt the least worrisome of his challenges. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Sebak, who offered a knowing smile from behind the crowd. The smile was not returned, and instead only earned an irate glare from the dais.
For a moment, he pushed himself to turn back to Kayo, holding back every urge for his face to twist into a scowl. She was sharp - no doubt - but even he could admit that it was not a flaw in most cases. Venom was useful in some situations, but Osahar was no snake charmer, and so he looked upon her with nought but an ill gaze. During his time spent in growing up, most dilemmas were often made null through the use of fists. His foul temper had been mostly snuffed out through the years however, and he knew well that alpha tendencies would not get him far here; not as a Chieftain, and certainly not towards his future spouse. Boyhood brawls were all to familiar to him, but trying to comprehend the wits of a Priestess was entirely foreign territory.
"Perhaps..." he began, his word trailing as his efforts to make small-talk fell feebly. "We should look a little more pleased about it."
Osahar turned his head to peer over his shoulder, and looked upon his former mentor. His placid expression remained undisturbed, taking short note of the man's now-greying hair and briefly recalling the many years spent being beaten into his current strength. Osahar had matured finely, and from the flatness of the bridge of his nose to his outstanding sense of duty, he near perfectly reflected the image of his father before him. And now, in the hours approaching his trial, he was able to stand before his old teacher not as a student, but as an equal.
"Are you troubled?" The mentor, known recently as Elder Sebak, spoke frankly. His voice had begun to crack with his creeping age, and the deep scar which painted his face had begun to twist into his frown lines.
"No." Osahar had averted his gaze, irate by the lie on his tongue. "I have encountered many beasts before."
"Women are not beasts, Osahar."
"You know what I meant."
The elder chuckled, amused by the lingering anger which had always ghosted the boy's expression. "There's more to your trials than desert terrors. You know this."
Osahar said no more, and returned his attention to his movements, in which he reached to lift his hair into a small bundle at the back of his head and allowed the olive flesh of his back to breathe. The skin around his shoulders had been heavily tattooed, as per tradition of successful hunts. The city had indeed grown beyond imagination, yet the tribe's ties to their once nomadic traditions remained strong, and the transition from boyhood was a decorated process.
"Ah," Sebak raised his voice again, remembering why he had approached in the first place. "The Chief would see you now. Ludicrous it would be, to spend the ceremony in here."
Parting the crowd was difficult, for each attendee longed to speak to the heir and bid him good luck before the farewell. The populace grew sparse as he approached the more guarded dais, and he met the gaze of the Chief, whom Osahar had learned to idolise from afar as a boy.
He had always been told that this was his path to take, yet even now the sands felt like nought more than a dream. But the dream had twisted only recently, for he had lost the woman who he had slowly learned to care for. The question as to whether he had loved her had never crossed his mind, but he remembered her dearly, and the wound had only been salted by the fact that the council had merely treated her passing as a change of plan.
For a while, all had been led to believe it was poison; she had choked on her own blood, and all accounts of poisoned wine seemed to lead back to the Priestess who had presented alongside her. And worse still, the Priestess in question had served as the replacement, having been dismissed of any and all accusations. Osahar still remained dubious, and undeniably raw. His jaw tightened at the sight of her also approaching the dais, and his glare might have lingered for too long.
"Kayo." He swallowed his thoughts heavily, and spoke politely, offering a subtle nod of greeting.
Plot-moving post is up! If I missed your character's numbers, it's because I wasn't sure where to put them! Send me a message with your mission preference and I'll slot them in. Same goes for upcoming characters!
@Sickle-cell I'll be happy to accept your character so long as @Evil Snowman is okay with there being a second haemokinetic character!
Moses' entry was as subtle as himself as he entered through the rear door of the auditorium, passing through the sloping rows of seats and obtaining a gradual view of his diverse, beautiful siblings. His face was painted with his trademark barely-there smile, and the blue flesh of his arms swam with stars and lights, each revealed beneath the crisp white of his rolled up shirt sleeves. He might have passed as a doctor, had it not been for the peculiarity of his limbs and the invasive presence of an Institute collar. To most, his collar was nought more than a joke; for what had ever possessed the superiors to equip Moses with an electrode collar? Protocol, as always.
The first and foremost of his siblings to be met, oddly enough, was an unaccompanied Ansel sitting by his lonesome. Quiet as Moses might be, his scent alone was enough to pique the young man's interest...even if it would be in a primarily gustatory manner. A deep breath went up Ansel's nostrils, and a satisfied, dreamy smile came over his face.
"They like to sit up front, our brothers and sisters," Ansel comments as his eyes peel away to savor Alma's bare back. "I think you'd find them better company. Go on, now."
Moses' steps stilled, just for a moment, as his eyes rose to meet Ansel's expression. From what he had heard, Ansel had become known as one to fear, yet Moses felt nothing of the sort as he stood in such close proximity. This was nothing abnormal however, as Moses' concept of social standings and emotions left a few things to be desired. He sat himself down quietly, settling into the inner seat a few rows down from the Tenth.
"The speaker system is quite unpleasant if you sit too close to the front." His voice was soft, yet frank, and his tone presented an easy-to-read personality with little capability for lying or manipulation. He glanced backwards for a moment, following Ansel's eyes which fell upon the small of Number Two's back. "I sometimes wonder about the strain placed on Alma's back, too. Though I don't think she feels too positive about people looking at it for too long."
"From where she's seeing, all eyes will have to look upon her every once in a while. It's a burden she has chosen to bare... if you could even call it that."
He could mean a few things, but Ansel wasn't much of one to divulge in his own thoughts towards others. The opposite, in fact, might be true; he had been growing increasingly curious of his 'lesser' siblings as of late, often watching of their routines and taking note of their personalities and abilities. Some would guess that he would feed again to satisfy his more carnal cravings, but the more astute of his brood might see a mad brilliance in those eyes.
Figuring out what exactly Ansel was, however, would be difficult. Especially when his temperament required a lethal collar to merely incapacitate him.
DR. JESPAR ROMAN, DIRECTOR
The empty space of the auditorium was filled with a sudden whistle, emanating from the speaker system as the microphone calibrated behind the glass pane. The Director himself seemed unfazed, pushing files aside and taking steps toward -- ah. He tugged his ankle gently, glancing down at the rearrangement of his laces. His eyes flickered upwards - just for a moment - to meet the gaze of Anat. His eyes showed no humour nor malice, and his default frown remained stoic on his expression. From the dark hues of crow-footed eyes to the silver roots of his black hair, Jespar Roman carried an image which seemed to show that he was a man who had seen it all. He knelt down, becoming obscured from the Children's vision by the desk counters, and rectified the situation.
"Briggs." His voice was a breath, laced with unlove. "Have Number 74 sanctioned following the day's trials."
And then, after a moment, the monochromatic voice of The Director echoed against the walls of the auditorium.
"Good morning, to each and every one of you summoned here today. It goes without saying that it is a strange day when so many of you are pulled into the same space at once, so I will address the reason with little digression.
Number Two, would you stand, please?"
The creature who had perched herself on the floor twitched a little, her eyes prying open at a familiar, overbearing voice. Had she drifted off? Of course she had. She exchanged her gaze with Roman for a few seconds, before curling her legs beneath her as to stand. There was little point in arguing. He needed her awake and listening, and having her stand was perhaps the best method of ensuring her attention. The narcoleptic nature of the second-born and second-ranked was perhaps undesirable, but her prowess was gargantuan and unfathomable to the those who had not witnessed her on the field. Indeed, Alma's thoughts often drifted into knowing how easy it would be to slaughter a room such as this, and how their bones would sound if she...
No. The girl shook her head as she stood silently, pulling away from those terrible dreams.
"The Institute has recorded six separate instances of impending Hydra. Two of which are already at or near our doorstep. You have been summoned in such numbers today as six instances of Hydra is severely abnormal under any circumstance.
As such, you will be divided here into groups are varying sizes. Due to the frequency of pockets opening, you will likely be working alongside siblings who you may have never met before. I expect you treat each other with patience and kindness; failure is not an option.
The instances of Hydra are as follows:"
A holographic screen flickers into view, covering the glass wall of the speaker's podium and switching on queue with The Director's words.
465:A // ᴇᴀsᴛ ᴅɪsᴛʀɪᴄᴛ ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ
://INSTANCE _ APPROX. 10 CLASS (A) HUNTERS
"Instance 465:A presents a pack of approximately ten Class-A Hunters. They are approaching the East District of The Capitol and will be sitting on our doorstep within the next six hours. Risk of casualties and material damage is high. This is our highest priority deployment. The following digits will be lifted by aircraft and will meet the approaching pack before they get close:
NUMBER 6 NUMBER 16 NUMBER 18 NUMBER 22 NUMBER 114
Meeting point will be held at Gate 4. Non-compliance is not an option."
465:B // ᴇᴀsᴛ ᴅɪsᴛʀɪᴄᴛ ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ
://INSTANCE _ APPROX. 18 CLASS (B) (C) HUNTERS
"Instance 465:B presents another pack of hunters, numerous and variant in nature. They appear to be being led Northwards by an Alpha-type figure through the sewer systems beneath the Industrial Zone. The following digits will be deployed via the subway system as listed:
NUMBER 5 NUMBER 7 NUMBER 10 NUMBER 13 NUMBER 15 NUMBER 74
Meeting point will be held at Gate 6. Non-compliance is not an option."
465:C // ᴡᴇsᴛ ᴅɪsᴛʀɪᴄᴛ ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ
://INSTANCE _ TRACE LONER SIGNAL
"Instance 465:C has been pulled from a scattered signal which may or may not belong to a Loner approaching a construction site in the West District. Regardless of nature, something is coming, and the following digits will be deployed via aircraft:
NUMBER 2 NUMBER 8
I trust Number Two will locate and eradicate the signal. Meeting point will be held at Gate 3. Non-compliance is not an option."
465:D // ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ ᴀɢʀɪᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ᴅɪsᴛʀɪᴄᴛ
://INSTANCE _ APPROACHING COLOSSI
"Instance 465:D calls for a large team of Children to halt and take down a slow-moving, mid-class Colossi. It is currently treading through the grain fields of the Agricultural District, but will eventually reach the urban zones if left for too long. The following digits will be deployed via aircraft:
NUMBER 4 NUMBER 11 NUMBER 17 NUMBER 20 NUMBER 21 NUMBER 64 NUMBER 128
Meeting point will be held at point Gate 8. Non-compliance is not an option."
465:E // ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ sᴏᴜᴛʜᴇʀɴ ᴜʀʙᴀɴ ᴅɪsᴛʀɪᴄᴛ
://INSTANCE _ APPROACHING MID-CLASS SWARM
"Instance 465:E has picked up a steadily-growing swarm erupting as we speak from a portal located on the outskirts of the Southern Urban district. Civilians are at great risk and I expect any bystanders to be handled appropiately. The following digits will be deployed via aircraft:
NUMBER 3 NUMBER 12 NUMBER 14 NUMBER 32 NUMBER 62 NUMBER 120
Meeting point will be held at Gate 1. Non-compliance is not an option."
465:F // sᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴅɪsᴛʀɪᴄᴛ ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ
://INSTANCE _ TELEKINETIC-TYPE LONER
"Instance 465:A is a report of a large Loner traversing the maintenance tunnels of the Bio-Robotics factory in the South District. The Loner in question has been witnessed to have abilities not unlike heavy telekinesis. The following numbers are expected to lure it out, and eliminate it with minimal material damage:
NUMBER 9 NUMBER 66 NUMBER 67 NUMBER 68 NUMBER 69 NUMBER 70 NUMBER 124
Meeting point will be held at Gate 10. Non-compliance is not an option."
//TRANSIT GATES, INSTITUTE OF SCIENCE
May 12, 7:35am
"All Children are to report to their allocated Gates in a prompt and civilised fashion. Non-compliance is not an option."
The automated message repeated itself on a painful, paced loop. On the outer wing of The Institute, a row of Gates each led to a small hangar of various aircraft, each suited for the transportation of Children. Gate 6 was an exception to this pattern, instead leading downwards to a narrow subway system which granted access to the sewer systems along the line. Guards lingered at each point, ready to register and check each approaching Child.
Tyler Night
