Lugubrious

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

This looks awesome. Count me in if there's space. I skimmed the interest check and I'm not sure if you're full or not.

@Mistress Dizzy

I'm so glad you think so! And yep, we've got plenty of space. Happy to have you along for the ride.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

The Chariot - Barney Rynsburger

Human

Name: Barney Rynsburger

Age: 24

Arcana: the Chariot

Appearance: At 6’2” and 240 lbs, Barney’s a broad-shouldered, stocky man particularly notable for a head of trimmed dark russet curls and a decently well-kept ducktail beard that’s a lot redder than his hair. All this plus the intentful cast of his brow and the slight hook of his broad nose would make him look formidable and maybe even intimidating if not for a pair of big, watery dark brown whose roundness suggest a permanent state of slight surprise. He doesn’t stoop or slouch, but he still seems to take up less space than his frame would imply.

On any given day this time of year, he can be found in a two-toned harrington tartan jacket, with white sleeves and trim on a red coat with that characteristic plaid pattern on the inside. Beneath that he wears a comfortable cotton crewneck sweater, white, with a pair of rectangular reading glasses hanging from the neck. A pair of dark brown, low wale corduroys plus black sneakers complete the outfit. He doesn’t really accessorize, other than a small metal cross necklace from his mother, but sometimes wears a tartan beanie.

Personality: Its easy, and not necessarily wrong, to look at Barney Rynsburger and see a pretty ordinary guy. He’s pleasant with a quietly cheery outlook, considerate, and good at casual conversation even if not the most outgoing. Although he avoids conflict and is not very assertive he isn’t lacking in self-esteem, instead giving off the impression of someone who’s got himself together, a pal who can be counted on to lend a hand when needed.

Most notable is his sense of duty. Barney is a principled fellow, possessed of a potent personal and work ethic, who does his best to be seen as strong and dependable. Although never one to boast, he’s secretly happy that people sometimes call him ‘responsible’ or ‘selfless’. Not a man of half-measures, he holds himself to a high standard and takes his commitments and responsibilities seriously. He’s stubborn, both in a way that allows him to persevere through hardship and in a way that sometimes makes it hard to deal with changes. He’s not an impulsive decision-maker and prefers time to think things through and choose the path that’s best for everyone, which is partly why its tough to convince him to change tact once he’s gotten started. His sense of duty extends to the bigger picture, too. He puts too much of himself into his work, his choices, and the level of help he provides to others, making him sensitive to criticism and easily crestfallen. Neither a genius nor naturally talented, he’s gotten where he is through hard work, which sometimes leads him to quietly looks down on those who put no effort into their lives, or to get frustrated by people who get results easily. Since he sees himself as a considerate and logical thinker, he can get defensive if questioned, but rather than get into confrontations he prefers to withdraw and mind his own business.

Of course, he’s mostly aware of his own shortcomings, and doesn’t actually hold himself in that high regard. In fact, most of his sense of worth comes from what he can do for others. He’s certainly not one to give vent to his pains and conflicts, believing that people might see him as weak and unreliable. As such, the image of an earnest, modest hard worker holds firm, even if he’s seemed much more tired, anxious, and sunken for a long time now.

Bio: The son of the Dutchman Rutger Rynzburger and Mexican mother Fernanda Suárez in Barclay, Barney learned two things from a tender age. One was that his family was poor, not disastrously so, but enough that things were always shaky and in question. The other was the value of hard work. His parents had tough lives of their own, and after doing their best for a long time they wanted to make sure that their children would have better lives than they. It was a challenging, unkind world, but the good life their faith promised ( and all the comfort, wealth, and companionship it entailed) could be earned through one’s blood, sweat, and tears--that was what Cassie, Leanne, and Barney came to believe. They were taught to put others’ needs first, be responsible and capable, and to do what they were told. Even if hardship weighed down upon them, the pressure would forge them into diamonds in the rough, and one day everything they desired would be theirs.

That meant going to college, but by the time the siblings got out of high school at the age of eighteen, there wasn’t anywhere near enough money to put the three of them through school. To make matters worse, their struggling parents were in contention; eighteen had been the agreed-on age at which they’d turn their children loose, but while Barney’s dad saw the state of things and wanted to keep trying to help their children, however hard that might be, his mom had been dying to be relieved of the burden and told him they couldn’t. In the end the two split up, with the divorce turning messy, and suddenly it was everyone for themselves.

The siblings entered the workforce to gain experience and money, and quickly found out just how heavy the weight of the world could be. Finding work was hard enough, but when one entry-level job proved itself insufficient, and all three were forced to seek extra employment just to figure out living situations. They kept in contact as they struggled for two years to make ends meet, without a lot of time for socialization or recreation. Eventually, Cassie found a way out in the form of a well-to-do young man looking for love, and after angrily pushing away her siblings for their disapproval, she quickly got with him. Another year of working and saving passed before Leanne abruptly seemed to drop off the face of the earth, after which Barney got calls from his parents within the span of a week. His mom was in debt and badly needed his help, which Barney could scarcely decline. His dad, meanwhile, had started up a new business that was sure hit, and asked him for a little investment. Hesitant but knowing the right thing to do to save his family, Barney shelved his plans of finally going to college for now and helped out as much as he could.

Some time later, Barney learned through his mom something that happened to Cassie. She’d been hospitalized, supposedly by falling down some stairs, although everyone involved had their own ideas about what happened. Her oddly nonchalant boyfriend said that he couldn’t foot the medical bills, and with nobody else able to pick up the slack, Barney lent his aid. At this point he was twenty-four, and though things weren’t pretty he realized he would probably never have a chance at college if he didn’t go now. In fact, he reasoned that it might help him out, serving as a sort of escape from his previous situation that might encourage the others to try and get money elsewhere. Going into debt was a desperate move, and it didn’t pay off. When the school year began, the twenty-four-year-old freshman realized all too soon that nothing had changed. He still needed to work, he still needed to send his relatives money, and now he had even more on his plate. He had no time. He wasn’t getting anywhere near enough sleep. Thanksgiving break was the first time he felt as if he could even breathe, but those scant few days passed quickly, and as he’s poised to return to school the lungful of air he received makes the sense of impending doom that much worse.

Scars: Barney is being crushed under the weight of responsibility as he struggles to earn the money so many people need from him, but at the end of the day, they’re still family. It would be a death blow to his moral code and reputation to turn his back on them--he would be heartless, selfish, alone and unacceptable. Scum. Time is running down with his principles and wellbeing on the line, begging the question which, if either, will give first.

Shadow

Appearance: Barney’s Shadow is the spitting image of a grand saint, in big white robes trimmed with silver. A crown is inlaid in the klobuk he wears on his head, and the split ends of his majestic cape curl upward behind him. A prison collar of solid silver is clasped around its neck along with the cuffs on his wrists, with the glittering chains wound all around him, worn and displayed proudly.

Personality: The distortion both of the Metaverse and deep within Barney’s own heart have brought forth a Shadow with an egomaniacal savior complex. He sees himself not just as a saint for all the generosity, kindness, and effort he’s given others, but a martyr for being so excessively, self-effacingly benevolent. He glorifies pain and captivity, his own in particular, believing that’s what makes someone a good person--and of course, makes him the best of all, leagues above anyone else. As such he looks down upon others with suffocating condescension while expecting their ceaseless thanks and praise.

Territory: As one travels through the cognitive world called the Metaverse, that shadow-blanketed battlefield of the mind, one might find the desolate, scarred streets and ruins of the warzone giving way to mazelike walls and walkways of white stone and wrought iron, immaculate and fanciful, standing before a skyline blotted not by decrepit skyscrapers but gleaming towers and spires. Proceeding inward across these hallowed grounds, past innumerable little shrines, fountains, spotless silver torture devices, and statues all done up with silks and waxy candles, would bring an inquisitive visitor to the doorstop of the grand Baroque cathedral that stands above it all. There, Shadows gather in supplication, not to an altar, but to a throne, where a locus of distortion has edified himself as their object of worship. Visual aide

Metaverse

Persona Identity: Gregor Samsa
Persona Appearance: Unlike many Personas Samsa is not humanoid--far from it. He is an arthropoidal aberration, a wretched cross of centipede and lobster. His segmented rosy-brown carapace, interspersed by protruding spikes here and there, protects stretched, purple flesh beneath. Six bone-tipped legs extend from its abdomen, accompanied by a pair of sickle arms far more ghoulishly spiked than any earthly mantis. Six sapphire-blue eyes gleam above a mouth of needle-like teeth and a pair of spiked pedipalps. Truly, Gregor Samsa is a monstrous vermin.
Specialty: Physical (Terror, Memory)
Element: Nuclear
Weakness: Curse

Callsign: Creature
Metaverse Appearance: Despite his callsign and the hideous appearance of his Persona, Creature is clothed in the Metaverse with crisp, flowing attire darkly clerical in appearance. A loose dark blue cassock with iron buttons down the front lies over a collared shirt, heavy-duty work pants, and boots. On top is a dark blue greca complete with shoulder cape, along with a matching wide-brimmed hat. The outfit is functional rather than fanciful and lacks ornamentation of any kind save the dog tag around his neck, visible for all to see. Here’s a rough example
Melee Weapon: A wagon wheel, primarily wood but with metal banding. It’s heavy and bulky, but the extra handles attached to it allow one with enough strength to swing it around or punch with it as a brutal melee weapon. In a pinch it also doubles as a shield against anything big enough to not pass through the spokes
Ranged Weapon: A Flamethrower that funnels a spread of vivid blue Nuclear-aspected ‘fire’. His default is a ramshackle model of twisted steel pipes

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Roster - 7/10

• Cawler, Vincent - the Tower
• Harrington, Caelum - Death
• Ifriti, Jin - Strength
• Moore, Harriette - the Empress
• Rynsburger, Barney - the Chariot
• Sanford, Alina - Wheel of Fortune
• Waller, Nick - the Hermit

People of Interest

• Corse, Mel - The de facto leader of the band called The Spark. His large figure matches his aggressive personality, always using his loud voice to get involved and shut down arguments in his group as more of a domination move than actually trying to calm them down. No matter the reason, he couldn't keep dead weight around, so Dakota had to go. He'd much rather push forward than let the group stagnate waiting on a lost cause
• Davik, Micki - The drummer of the band called The Spark. He's a happy-go-lucky sort of person glad to be following his passions with people he can get along with. He puts trust in Mel mainly because he has no understanding of the business outside of playing, and feels it's best that way. He took Dakota's absence fairly well, but the situation was concerning from a friend's perspective. While he hasn't forgotten his former bandmate by any means, he's pushed on and continued performances without missing a beat
• Deonte, Javon - the bassist of the band called The Spark. 23 years old, and probably the more level-headed out of the group. He simply plays because he loves to do so, and though he loves the crowds, he's not really in it for popularity. Preferring to stay behind the scenes and just play, he remains quiet in general conversation aside from with his bandmates. He deeply respected Dakota's passion but thought it was for the best he took it easy.
• Ferrigno, Lucas - The second son of Barclay's premier real estate magnate, Luciano Ferrigno, and a decent businessman in his own right. Superficial in an oddly sincere way, he possesses an insatiable, devil-may-care sort of charisma that along with his status makes him popular with the ladies, and the penniless Cassie Rynsburger was no exception. Nobody in his circle would say he treats his ladies anything other than spectacularly, least of all Cassie herself, hospitalization notwithstanding
• Ford, Leonard - Mila’s older brother by three years. Why not fresh meat anymore, he is still low ranking at the police department. He is currently under evaluation for a possible transfer into the K-9 Unit. He’s received a lot of flak for being related to a ‘felon’ but keeps his mouth shut about it. He has faith in his sister. He, along with the rest of the family, are concerned by her not showing up for Thanksgiving
• García, Camila - Officer García is Mila’s parole officer. She is a Hispanic American of age forty-three. A no nonsense kind of gal but if you prove you can be trusted she’ll cut ya some slack. She’s a hard worker and takes her job extremely serious. She devotes her best to help each of her parolees. If she learns you’ve lied to her though it’s almost impossible to win back her trust. To her, lying about backsliding from your progress is worse than the actual act
• Harrington, Davon - Caelum’s father, and Director of a successful banking company. Similar enough to Caelum that even strangers may recognize their relationship if comparing the son to a picture of the father, Davon is known for his piercing blue-eyes, stern manner, and regal bearing. He is competent, perhaps overly-serious, but he has managed to keep his public image impeccable. If one were to demand ‘show me one honest businessman’, those who know of him would likely point to Davon
• Harte, Mary - Child of a family with enough assets to put her through college without debt, Mary is tall, blonde, and the sort of person who can befriend anybody. Her high energy is put to great use in both sports and study as well as with her friends, and one might consider her somewhat gifted from an outside perspective. In private, she also bears an affinity for pornographic visual novels; so far, she has shared this with Alina alone
• Hue, Miranda - Mel's choice for Dakota's replacement as a vocalist. The transition from a male to female singer was jarring only for a short period of time, Miranda making it clear she had the charm and appearance to keep the crowd entranced, without mention of her wonderful singing voice. Her immense pride and concern of her self-worth shines above the other portions of her personality, despite being able to put on a pretty face
• Rynsburger, Cassie - Barney's sister, although you'd never know it from a side by side comparison given the darker complexion and bombastic spirit she got from their mother. She managed to escape the rat race by finding a wealthy boyfriend, but though she never complained of anything, she eventually ended up in the hospital with injuries her partner quickly explained away
• York, Selena - An older woman arrested decades ago for murder who was at the same prison as Mila. Miss York was essentially Mila’s saving grace. The woman has a habit of looking after the young people who get sent to her prison. Especially if they seem completely new to this world. She is well respected there and seems to have a special connection with Mila stating she understands Mila’s situation. Mila actively has correspondence with Miss York and recently applied to be put on the inmate visitation list for Miss York

Places of Interest - Real World

• Barclay Police Department - Situated on a peninsula that reaches out into the bay in the middle of the public beach area, the police department looks a lot more like a resort at first glance, with only a couple patrol cars to its name, although that belies a state-of-the-art interior. Still, it can't be denied that its management has done a lot to give it a remarkable public image. The BPD itself cares for the nearby beaches and their facilities. With the city's help it sponsors barbeques, Game Trucks, and even the occasional fair. With its mission statement to put people first and its motto 'Looking out for folks', the BPD prides itself on friendly and understanding officers who don't take things too seriously. That said, there never seems to be a slow day for the department itself, with lots of foot traffic in and out of the place on any given day. The police commissioner is Maurice McCord
• Barclay Waterfront University - The city's de-facto college and one of the most well-known in the whole region. It's huge, with an appropriately massive student body, and though its students and courses run the gamut it has quite the prestigious upper echelon. Its colleges of natural science, engineering, literature, and software are of special note, but its no slouch in the sports department either, with a football team that boasts national acclaim and a rowing team whose boats can be spotted out in the bay all year long. Guest speakers, orchestral performances, and plays are a common occurrence in its grand auditorium, and the luxurious student center in the middle of campus provides a place where all can socialize and relax. On-campus dormitories provide housing for those attending, and though they're the budget option not often favored by well-to-do students, they're perfectly fine as accommodations. Its president is Myron Pondwater
• Brights Dive Bar - A small bar with a rough exterior but well-furnished and clean on the inside. It's not exactly fit for attracting large crowds but instead just local clientele, serving a very basic line of drinks and usually having open mic or karaoke during the evenings. You really can't go wrong with the place if you're looking for a simple time without a lot of hassle, as long as you aren't looking to cause trouble yourself, that is. Most of the folks are older, people who've lived near the bar for a chunk of their life. They usually don't expect many new folks, aside from the occasional kid who just became of-age and was looking for their first real drinking experience. A small group of regulars are actually not there for drinks at all: Instead, they take up the karaoke hours or open mic for whatever they can come up with. The worst you'll usually get is a look of uncertainty as a newcomer, but that can be enough when you're alone. Having another regular with you can usually get folks off your back, unless they are troublesome in their own right
• Right Rest Inn - a rather shabby motel in a less-than-savory part of town, although its position relatively close to the waterfront makes it a little more expensive than you would expect just looking at it. Its a transitory place of impermanence where the people would only ever end up out of necessity, more often than not pushing it out of their minds. That tendency to be ignored, however, also makes it a common refuge for criminal elements. Its kept afloat by the efforts of the manager Paula Martine, both in terms of cutting costs and aggressively squeezing what tenants do wash up on her shore
• Waterfront Hillside Home - a pleasant retirement / assisted living home situated on the northern reaches of the city along the coast, where an upturn in terrain thins out the packed cityscape enough for the structure to exist in comfortable isolation. Cozy and cheery cheery with its seaside decor, complete with an aquarium and coral-themed hanging gardens, it provides a place of peace for the well-to-do elderly to while away their time, warming themselves on the expansive outdoor decks while listening to the rhythm of waves down below. It is partially financed by the city of Barclay itself, which makes its charges low enough that even old folks of more modest means can enjoy their twilight years by the seaside

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Nick Waller

Name: Nick Waller

Age: 21

Arcana: The Hermit

Appearance: Nick is a lithe young man, standing at about 5’6” and weighing 135-ish pounds. His muscles are tight and lean, hardly noticeable save for on his legs, where his running has built him noticeable calves and thighs. His face is round and baby-ish, hidden beneath a perpetual 5 o’clock shadow kept specifically to hide that baby face.

His hair is kept simple, a light brown never allowed to grow longer than an inch, and otherwise unstyled. His skin is ever-so-lightly tanned but definitely not what one would call remotely dark, despite the Texas sun.

Clothing-wise, during Nick can typically be found in his favorite jacket, a tan American Eagle No. 01977 with faux fur lining. Warm, durable, and waterproof enough, Nick actually liked this jacket enough to get a second one, and he swaps them out every once in a while to keep them in good shape. Underneath he wears t-shirts, and only t-shirts, typically with some graphic design, or a comedic or irreverent phrase written on it. He favors cargo pants and rarely wears jeans, though on some days he will wear a pair of chinos if he’s feeling fancy. His legwear is typically neutral or earth-tone, to match with the tan jacket. Finishing his standard outfit is a pair of well-worn but good still fairly decent black sneakers.

Nick rarely accessorizes, save for his plain olive green backpack, which hardly counts in his opinion.

Personality: Nick is, to the casual observer, a man with two fronts: At times, he is bombastic, loud, comedic, talkative, irreverent, and very open about what he thinks. But he can also be quiet, withdrawn, introspective and even downright isolationist. It’s earned him few friends at Barclay Waterfront University, and Nick seems content with that, rarely branching out and trying to meet new people.

Which Nick you see depends on the context. In classroom discussions, he’s often very eager to speak his mind, especially when it comes to topics he feels people are often mislead or blissfully ignorant about. He has a genuine thirst for knowledge and understanding, and is more than happy to let others explain things to him if he doesn’t know something.

Left to his own devises, Nick tends to withdraw into himself, finding entertainment in his phone via videos on Youtube, browsing reddit, or chatting with people via Discord. Unbothered, he can remain like this for hours on end, more than happy to isolate and ignore the world around him in favor of mindless stimulation.

With friends or those he trusts, a blending of these two extremes is found. Irreverent and nihilistic humor, memespeak, openness, tempered by periods of content silence, browsing the internet to the backdrop of his friends’ conversations, or sharing content with those around him. He’s never quite as loud, or withdrawn and introspective, around his friends, even if everybody is quiet.

Underneath everything, though, is a reservoir of anger that rarely stops bubbling, ready to be set off at the thought of injustice or unfairness. It’s not uncommon for his bombastic rants to be underlaid with a genuine note of anger, or his dry humor to hide genuine disdain, though he does his best to hide this ugly side from others, and even himself.

And to those with a more discerning eye, they can notice the little things Nick hides. The way he flinches, but only for the briefest of moments, and loud noises or unexpected touch. The way he has to center himself before going off on a rant. The slow breaths he takes when somebody explains something that he already knows, thank you very much.

There’s more to him than those two fronts. And what little he lets slip doesn’t paint a good picture.

Bio: Raised by parents who never seemed to be quite proud of him, Nick always felt that he played second (or even third) fiddle to his brothers. This caused him to overvalue the talent he did have in his mind. Able to, generally speaking, absorb knowledge easily and lock it in like a steel trap, Nick always had little trouble in his schooling, and what praise he did receive for his good grades was kept and treasured like it was made of gold.

As he grew older, he learned more about his family’s flaws. The unresolved anger issues that pervaded them like a virus, the general character flaws that made his parents seem less like goals to emulate, and more like warnings to avoid. He learned how to hide his disappointment, how to vent his pain and frustrations, though not in a healthy manner.

Nick would tell you that, in high school, things changed. He wouldn’t tell you how. He wouldn’t tell you why. All he’d tell you is that that is when things changed.

What little trust in others and self-confidence he had broken, Nick tried to double down on what he felt he had, and threw himself into his schoolwork to the neglect of much else. It kept him away from his parents, his brothers, his “friends”, it let him just be alone, where he felt more comfortable. And the results showed. Nick’s grades, somehow, raised, and he took more and more challenging classes, read ahead of the assigned work, and generally stood out as a well-behaved, intelligent young man.

And finally, college came, and Nick was free. Free to stay in bed until 2 PM on Saturday once in a while. Free to avoid the constant fake questions from his family. Free from the constant pressure he felt to perform to their standards. And despite how he let go of some the higher standards he placed on himself, Nick thrived without his family putting stress on him constantly. He let himself speak out more, took (generally) better care of himself, and found a schedule that worked for him.

Yet, despite this freedom, despite this respite from the past, Nick hasn’t been able to shake the ghosts that haunt him. His first real relationship fell apart a scant few months ago, an ugly, explosive break up that came from months of suppressed frustration and disappointment from his girlfriend, leaving Nick reeling and wondering what about him it is that just isn’t good enough.

Be wary, for you are about to trawl the depths of mankind’s darkness. Turn back if you are not ready. Content Warning for Sexual Assault/Rape and Self-harm.

Scars:
Diagnosis: Major Depressive Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. “Self-harm wounds evident on left and right shoulders” “Scars on back and thighs not from self-harm, incidental stretch marks from puberty growth spurts. Large burn on back from birth complications and hospital mismanagement. Nick stresses these distinctions. Nonetheless, they cause readily apparent self-image problems” “Sexual trauma has resulted in self-imposed isolation and distrust of others, regardless of gender” “Possible familial abuse? Nick rarely speaks of his family, has not seen them in years, and rarely if ever has positive things to say on the subject” “Relationship history brings Nick great pain to discuss” “Avoid casually asking about girlfriends/boyfriends as a topic of conversation” “Sexual repression and repression of bisexuality likely result of assault” “Generally feels safest alone” “More comfortable in virtual spaces than physically with others”

The profile Nick’s psychologist has on him is…extensive and disturbing to the unprepared reader. It is the story of a young man who has never felt truly appreciated for long, who has found every sanctuary and safe haven ripped away from him.

Nick’s trauma runs deep, and it, in part, has changed him. It has left him feeling unsafe in all but isolation, it has left him afraid of trusting others, and it has turned him against even himself.

Physically, Nick’s scars are much less haunting than meets the eye. His lower back and hips are littered with horizontal stretch marks, which, after a few minor incidents, have resulted in worsening problems with his self-image. On his back, over his heart lies a fist-sized burn scar from a minor medical mishap with a UV lamp and a newborn Nick that left no actual long-term complications.

His shoulders tell a different story. See, Nick is “clever”, and figured he’d cut where people wouldn’t stereotypically think to check underneath a shirt. The wrists were too obvious and the thighs had too many major blood vessels to risk. So, with a guide on human anatomy, he figure that his shoulder would be a good spot to just let out a little stress without risking severing a major artery. Whether it was a good idea isn’t really relevant, because it worked.

Psychologically, Nick’s scars can be attributed to several primary events which resulted in his cynical outlook on the world and interpersonal relationships.

When Nick was 7, his father first insulted him for crying when his parents fought, starting the cracks in their bond as family.

When Nick was 15, his “friends” raped him at a party. Later that year, he realized he was bisexual, but couldn’t stomach the thought of another man touching him outside of a fantasy.

When Nick was 16, he began cutting as a way to relieve the pain he was hiding.

When Nick was 18, he left home and decided that if he could help it, he would never go back.

Nick is from Oklahoma, and he hasn’t left Texas since he started at Barclay Waterfront University. He hasn’t seen his family in over three years. And frankly? That’s just fine with him. The way he sees it, they were just the start of his pain.

@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

That's a very solid application. For now the only advice I could give would be to see if you could transition some weight from his Scars section to his Bio section, since Bio is more for telling the story and Scars for summing up. Still, well done.

In other news, I'm opening the OOC. The interest from those who've applied plus those who haven't posted in this thread promises a good if not immediate start. @Potemking @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN @Yankee @SilverPaw, if so inclined you can find the link to the thread here: https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/186167-persona-soldiers-of-fortune/ooc

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

There are almost eight billion people on this planet, but though one sky hangs over them all, the world each person lives in is not the same. Each person’s world is small, but infinitely complex. It is built up by one’s nature, upbringing, principles, beliefs, and by those who give it joy and meaning. On the other hand, so too is it built by one’s needs, fears, responsibilities, scars, mistakes, and by those who, through malice or inaction, work to tear it down. Every action sends tremors through countless worlds, some so strong that it is all many can do to merely survive. How then could anyone, alone in their own small world, understand someone else’s? See their value? Know their true face? And who would be willing to fight to keep your one world alive, except you?

But you are not alone. Never have been. Fear and pain may weigh you down, and you may suffer under the unfairness of life, but despite everything you’re still human. Even at rock bottom you can still climb back up. Within you is the power to change--to fight, maybe not for the world, but for your one world.

Things cannot continue as they are. If you understand what needs to be done, then call my name.

Foreward

My goal is to make not just a Persona RP, but an excellent one, rallying together earnest writers to craft something special. The story’s central themes are suppression (suffering, confinement, the inability to act) versus liberation, the endowment of the freedom to enact one’s will and pursue one’s world.

To that end, everyone will play as characters whose are suffering to some degree, people whose lives are no longer their own. Not good or bad people, just people, trying (and maybe failing) to make the best of things. But things aren’t good. This could be due to poverty, illness, bad relationships, punishment, victimization, overworking, guilt, unbearable responsibility, you name it. Society has driven you into the prison of your mind, and the boiling point is not too far awy.

But there is hope. On a fateful day, the skyfall incident occurs. A handful of people find themselves thrust into the surreal, distorted world of the collective consciousness: the Metaverse. There they must confront the Shadows that are their suppressed inner selves, or perish. Those who are able to accept themselves and realize that things must change will gain a Persona--a mask with which they can face hardship and accomplish great things.

From there begins the campaign. These Soldiers of Fortune, freed from their shackles and armed with the power to change things, can then fight through the trenches of the human psyche to topple the depotism of the Warlords and restore the freedom of the masses.

This RP will take place in Barclay, Texas, in the United States. It is a sprawling metropolis near the Gulf of Mexico, a regional melting pot filled with just about everything humanity has to offer. The PCs must be 18 minimum, and will coalesce at the Barclay Waterfront University, although they can be employees or people there by chance. It is November 29th, and Thanksgiving Break just ended.

The Other Self

I am thou...Thou art I

Personas are spiritual manifestations of one’s personality, awakened by one’s resolution in the face of hardship. They symbolize the resolve to overcome challenges and fight for one's world. Awakenings can take two forms depending on the primary source of your character's conflict: internal or external. An internal conflict will result in an awakening by Shadow, and an external conflict will result in an awakening by Warlord. Either way, the experience will result in your character gaining a Persona

Renewal - Awakening by Shadow

Shadows are the lower parts of the psyche everyone has... Suppressed human thoughts given physical form. When people are unable to face their darker selves, they break loose, free from all control. But sometimes, humans with special awareness can tame their Shadows…

While in the Metaverse, those who are their own worst enemies will inevitably face themselves, sooner or later. You’ll find yourself in the Territory of your Shadow, a small area converted by your Shadow’s distortion. There you’ll meet the dark part of yourself, an exaggerated reflection that is the culmination of your misery, failure, self-destruction, or delusion, trying to assert itself, unable to be ignored. However that interaction goes, it will ultimately force a singular question: can you accept it? If you cannot face and accept the ugliness within yourself, the Shadow will go berserk and transform into a monstrosity and attack.

If you’re overcome, you’ll emerge from the Metaverse changed. With your will broken, your cruel self will be unfettered and free to do whatever dark deeds you wish in the real world, while your Shadow will remain in the Metaverse as a Warlord. However, if you have the will to survive and overcome, you may take up arms and fight back. If your ego can master your shadow by defeating or accepting it, it will pronounce a contract that assures your resolve, and transform once again into a Persona.

Rebellion - Awakening by Warlord

Personas are, in other words, a "mask"—an armor of the heart when confronting worldly matters

A Warlord is the Shadow of someone who has gained some form of power, pride, or success in the real world as a result of pain and suffering inflicted on others. In the Metaverse, their Shadow takes on an appearance formed by the person’s conception of power, and wields weaponry that symbolizes their will to inflict harm on others.

The wounds inflicted by a tormentor leave scars even after they heal, and these scars serve as a sort of mark or branding--proof that one has power over another, and that another has been wronged by the one. And in the Metaverse, one who’s been branded in such a manner can be found by their tormentor again. Warlords are drawn to those who’ve fallen through the cracks bearing scars inflicted by their real selves, and will seek out their prey to finish the job.

When confronted by a Warlord, you’ll invariably end up in dire straights. Their strength, weaponry, terrain knowledge are all superior, not to mention any Shadows in their service. Whether through taunts, torture, or other psychological or physical abuses the Warlord will jeopardize your life, and during these emotional episodes you’ll be pushed to the brink. Will you allow the Warlord to destroy you, or will you take revenge? If you choose to rebel, your Shadow will call out to you.

A piercing agony will fill your heart, wracking your whole body with pain as all else fades. Your Shadow will continue to speak, questioning your situation and testing your resolve. If in that moment you can find your resolve, you can call it by name, pull it from your chest, and crush it in your hand to formalize the contract. Doing so will manifest both your weapon of choice and your Persona, allowing you to fight for yourself.

The collective hearts of humanity, known also as the sea of souls, houses the whole of civilization’s archetypal stories. Personas take the form of people, monsters, and in general beings from mythology, folklore, tradition, legend, and famous literary works. For this RP, I have a couple notes:

• The chosen Persona should have an obvious relation to the story of your character
• Your Persona will also have one of the Major Arcana of the tarot deck
• If you choose a literary character, it should be one of both age and cultural significance
• Your character’s Persona can’t start out as a god/goddess
• Persona evolution is an option later on down the line
• We won’t be going into stats, but your Persona will get attributes: a Specialty, an Element (against which it’ll also have a resistance), and a Weakness to allocate as you please that will affect performance
• Since Personas are a mask to face hardship, Persona users will change outfit while in the Metaverse after awakening

Personas are pretty necessary for fighting in the Metaverse. Discarded weapons litter the place, but they alone won't be enough for an ordinary human. Personas are typically incorporeal but can attack physically and in some cases support the weight of the user, but they can't all, say, just pick you up and float into the sky to fly you around. Using them tires you out. Awakening to one will exhaust you soon after the awakening. In this setting, your Persona can speak with you to give information, support, or just companionship.

All Personas can attack with physical or gun skills proved they have the weapons to do so, although ones with a melee or ranged specialty will enjoy stronger and more special attack skills. Essentially, your choice of both Specialty and Element affect what skills and magic your Persona both starts with and can gain. Skills hurt the user when performed, and spells cost mana; if your Persona is more physical or magical, you'll have more health or magic to work with. With most spell progression, you'll learn a spell followed by its wide-area version before the next strongest spell

Skill List

Element

• Fire: Agi -> Maragi -> Agilao -> Maragion -> Agidyne -> Maragidyne -> Inferno -> Blazing Hell
• Ice: Bufu -> Mabufu -> Bufula -> Mabufula -> Bufudyne -> Mabufudyne -> Diamond Dust -> Ice Age
• Elec: Zio -> Mazio -> Zionga -> Mazionga -> Ziodyne -> Maziodyne -> Thunderclap -> Raging Storm
• Wind: Garu -> Magaru -> Garula -> Magarula -> Garudyne -> Magarudyne -> Vacuum Wave -> Galeforce
• Nuclear: Frei -> Mafrei -> Freila -> Mafreila -> Freidyne -> Mafreidyne -> Meltdown -> Cosmic Flare
• Psychokinesis: Psi -> Mapsi -> Psio -> Mapsio -> Psiodyne -> Mapsiodyne -> Hysteria -> Psycho Blast
• Bless: Kouha -> Makouha -> Kouga -> Makouga -> Kougaon -> Makougaon -> Hosanna -> God Ray
• Curse: Eiha -> Maeiha -> Eiga -> Maeiga -> Eigaon -> Maeigaon -> Blasphemy -> Evil Incarnate

Specialty

• Melee & Ranged: You have more health, and choose two modifers you can apply to your attack skills for added effects. Choices are Dormin (Sleep), Terror (Fear), Memory (Forget), Flash (Dizzy), Abysmal (Despair), Marin (Brainwash), Skull (Confuse), Taunt (Rage), Hungry (Lifedrain), Hollow (Spiritdrain), and Lucky (Critical)
• Magic: You have more spirit, and your spells can either inflict an ailment or deal extra damage to those inflicted by them, called a Tech. Fire inflicts Burn. Ice inflicts Freeze. Elec inflicts Shock. Wind Techs with Burn, Dizzy, and Sleep. Nuclear Techs with Burn, Shock, and Freeze. Psy Techs with Confuse, Fear, Despair, Rage, and Brainwash. Bless & Curse have access to spells that have a chance to instantly kill targets depending on several factors:
  Hama -> Mahama -> Hamaon -> Mahamaon -> Divine Visage (Bless)
  Mudo -> Mamudo -> Mudoon -> Mamudoon -> Megadeath (Curse)
• Support: Healing (Dia), cure (Amrita), and revival (Recarm) skills. Better skills heal more:
  Dia -> Amrita -> Media -> Recarm -> Diarama -> Meamrita -> Mediarama -> Diarahan -> Samarecarm
• Protection: Spells of your own element heal you, gain Enduring Soul (avoid one fatal blow per fight) and defensive skills. Rakukaja (defense up) -> Fortify (increase ailment resistance) -> Wall (shield against one element) -> Dekaja (null enemy buffs) -> Marakukaja (party defense up) -> Makarakarn + Tetrakarn (spell and attack counters)

To Whom it May Concern

So, the elephant in the room. Most Persona RPs die before anything Persona actually happens, maybe because like some of the games, they take a bit to get going. However, I’m confident that should we get enough people who actually want to write to get off the ground, that won’t happen. If people wanted to write by themselves they wouldn’t need an RP to do it; the point of a GM is to take the players on an adventure. Here’s the plan.

How this works

• The general plan for posting is at least once a week. It’s not necessarily a requirement, but if you miss a couple weeks we’re probably going to be in contact. If anything happens that would stop you from posting for a time, just let me know and we’re right as rain. Communication is key
• If you can’t see yourself posting at least once a week (bar extenuating circumstances) for the foreseeable future (multiple years even) don’t apply. This is less of an OC show and tell and more of a commitment
• I’m not going to make the people who do want to play, write, and tell their stories wait on people who don’t post. When I post my weekly update, world progress will happen. Time will move forward even if some characters stand still. If your character is in a dangerous situation and doesn’t act, they may take damage or otherwise suffer for it. Not much, generally, but it’s still not a good idea to leave your character hanging
• ’He who desires but acts not breeds pestilence’ - ultimately, being in an RP means posting. Whether or not you give reassurances if your intention to post, if you can’t post with reasonable consistency, we’ll need to face reality sooner or later
• You have some creative freedom to make and influence the stuff around you. For instance, if you were to walk into a classroom, you could describe the students around you, their names and appearances and what they’re doing, maybe even make up some prior experiences or encounters your character remembers. You can describe portions of the world, be it a favorite coffee shop of your character’s out in the city somewhere, or an area of distortion in the Metaverse. Controlling notable enemies isn’t allowed without permission, but you can have some fun with fodder. Above all, just ask. I’m always glad to answer any questions about if or how you can do this or that
• If you’re going to put your character’s dialog in a color, please make it readable on the guild’s background
• I’m open to talking about most anything anytime. If it seems like I got something wrong or could do something better, or if it seems like I forgot something, please don’t hesitate to let me know

For the character sheet, something I think would be fun would be to keep our characters’ Personas hidden until they awaken IC. So, you’ll complete the entire sheet and PM the final version to me for approval, but when you post it in the Characters tab you’ll leave out the Metaverse section until your awakening, at which point you can edit it back in. Plan around which awakening you want as well, based on whether your character’s core conflict is more internal or external. Stuff is first come first served and will on be 'yours' when your character is accepted

Of course, you’re welcome to put your WIPs in the OOC and discuss Personas, attributes, and Arcana.

Contract

Humanity

Name:
Age: (18 minimum)
Arcana: (Find one thematically appropriate for your character. Discuss with others to avoid overlap)
Appearance: (Images in a hider alright. Accompanying text appreciated)
Personality:
Bio: (No need for every tiny detail. Include important events that made your character who he or she is now, and your character’s recent past leading up to the current (not good) situation)
Scars: (A summary of the source of your characters trauma/suffering, which will be the core conflict that plays into your awakening)

Shadow

(If your character’s conflict is more internal than external, their Awakening will involve facing their own Shadow, so keep this section. Otherwise, remove this section)

Appearance: (A Shadow’s appearance reflects its distortions. They clothe themselves in security and power, however that may manifest. When driven berserk by the person’s refused acceptance, Shadows transform monstrously, so include that appearance here, too)
Personality: (The Shadow is the dark parts of the psyche, the thoughts and feelings that people keep hidden from everyone, even themselves. Their traits are often exaggerated)
Territory: (The distortion of a powerful Shadow can warp the Metaverse in their vicinity. This domain is tailored to suit the Shadow’s aesthetic, which you can describe here)

Metaverse

Persona Identity:
Persona Appearance: (Even the most human identities are rendered fantastical by the imagination)
Specialty: (Either Melee, Ranged, Magic, Support, or Protection)
Element: (Either Physical, Projectile, Fire, Ice, Elec, Wind, Nuclear, Psy, Bless, or Curse)
Weakness: (Doesn't need to be stereotyped--for instance, yours doesn't need to be Fire if your Element is Ice)

Callsign: (The name under which your character will operate as a Soldier of Fortune)
Metaverse Appearance: (The new outfit is a manifestation of your character’s will to fight, so it is essentially battle attire. Minor appearance changes can accompany the outfit if you like. No mask required, but you will get a tailor-made Dog Tag listing your callsign and Persona)
Melee Weapon:
Ranged Weapon:
(For both weapons, feel free to describe more about what they are and can do and even provide images of the starting weapons. Down the line you may get upgrades/replacements of the same weapon type)

If your character route is Rebellion, you'll need a Warlord too. You can either work with me to have your backstory play into one of mine, or make your own.

Warlord

Name:
Distortion: (The theme/aesthetic that ties together your Warlord's appearance, territory, minion shadows, and so forth)
Weaponry: (The Warlord's weapons of choice, symbolizing their will to harm others for their own gain)
Appearance: (The Warlord's appearance stems from their conception of someone with strength or power, which they obviously see themselves as)
Personality: (The Warlord's personality is an exaggeration of the person's true personality, one emphasizing their traits)
Territory: (The area of the Metaverse that has been twisted by your Warlord's influence. It can be big or small depending on how impactful the person is in the real world, but somewhere in it is the Stronghold, the Warlord's heavily guarded base. There's a War Room somewhere that sheds some light on the Warlord's activities in the real world and a highly fortified Bunker that contains personal secrets about the Warlord's real self, possibly the source of that person's distortion)
Shadows: (Up to twelve Shadows, either canon or custom, can serve the Warlord. For convenience please provide their primary element and weakness. Including images is optional. A good format would be something like: Jack Frost (Ice/Fire))

Spoilers

Persona: (Anyone who gains the resolve to fight for their one world, for better or worse, can gain a Persona, which includes Warlords. Choose an appropriate Persona for the Warlord to wield. This Persona will have an element and such attributes too)
Fusion: (In this RP there's no wild card, so Persona Fusion takes on an entirely different meaning. Every Warlord has a powerful boss form similar to the berserk state of Shadows, accessed by fusing with their own Persona in times of need. This boss form's appearance takes elements from their Shadow appearance and their Persona's. Doing so also confers a new 'ascended' name, which doesn't need to be related to the Persona, that epitomizes the relationship of character and Warlord. For example, 'Suguru Asmodeus Kamoshida'

Join the Discord

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

As an update, here's what I've got for my own sheet. Still some work left to do on the Persona and Shadow sections, but this can serve as another template for how it can be done. The Persona I have planned is Melee-Nuclear.

Contract - Barney Rynsburger

Human

Name: Barney Rynsburger
Age: 24
Arcana: the Chariot
Appearance: At 6’2” and 240 lbs, Barney’s a broad-shouldered, stocky man particularly notable for a head of trimmed russet curls and a well-kept ducktail beard that’s a lot redder than his hair. All this plus the intentful cast of his brow and the slight hook of his broad nose would make him look formidable and maybe even intimidating if not for a pair of big, watery dull blue eyes whose roundness suggest a permanent state of slight surprise. He doesn’t stoop or slouch, but he still seems to take up less space than his frame would imply.

On any given day this time of year, he can be found in a two-toned harrington tartan jacket, with white sleeves and trim on a red coat with that characteristic plaid pattern on the inside. Beneath that he wears a comfortable cotton crewneck sweater, white, with a pair of rectangular reading glasses hanging from the neck. A pair of dark brown, low wale corduroys plus black sneakers complete the outfit. He doesn’t really accessorize but sometimes wears a tartan beanie.

Personality: Its easy, and not necessarily wrong, to look at Barney Rynsburger and see a pretty ordinary guy. He’s pleasant with a quietly cheery outlook, considerate, and good at casual conversation even if not the most outgoing. Although he avoids conflict and is not very assertive he isn’t lacking in self-esteem, instead giving off the impression of someone who’s got himself together, a pal who can be counted on to lend a hand when needed.

Most notable is his sense of duty. Barney is a principled fellow, possessed of a potent personal and work ethic, who does his best to be seen as strong and dependable. Although never one to boast, he’s secretly happy that people sometimes call him ‘responsible’ or ‘selfless’. Not a man of half-measures, he holds himself to a high standard and takes his commitments and responsibilities seriously. He’s stubborn, both in a way that allows him to persevere through hardship and in a way that sometimes makes it hard to deal with changes. He’s not an impulsive decision-maker and prefers time to think things through and choose the path that’s best for everyone, which is partly why its tough to convince him to change tact once he’s gotten started. His sense of duty extends to the bigger picture, too. He puts too much of himself into his work, his choices, and the level of help he provides to others, making him sensitive to criticism and easily crestfallen. Neither a genius nor naturally talented, he’s gotten where he is through hard work, which sometimes leads him to quietly looks down on those who put no effort into their lives, or to get frustrated by people who get results easily. Since he sees himself as a considerate and logical thinker, he can get defensive if questioned, but rather than get into confrontations he prefers to withdraw and mind his own business.

Of course, he’s mostly aware of his own shortcomings, and doesn’t actually hold himself in that high regard. In fact, most of his sense of worth comes from what he can do for others. He’s certainly not one to give vent to his pains and conflicts, believing that people might see him as weak and unreliable. As such, the image of an earnest, modest hard worker holds firm, even if he’s seemed much more tired, anxious, and sunken for a long time now.

Bio: The son of a Dutch father and Texan mother in Barclay, Barney learned two things from a tender age. One was that his family was poor, not disastrously so, but enough that things were always shaky and in question. The other was the value of hard work. His parents had tough lives of their own, and after doing their best for a long time they wanted to make sure that their children would have better lives than they. It was a challenging, unkind world, but the good life ( and all the comfort, wealth, and companionship it entailed) could be earned through one’s blood, sweat, and tears--that was what Cassie, Leanne, and Barney came to believe. They were taught to put others’ needs first, be responsible and capable, and to do what they were told. Even if hardship weighed down upon them, the pressure would forge them into diamonds in the rough, and one day everything they desired would be theirs.

That meant going to college, but by the time the siblings got out of high school at the age of eighteen, there wasn’t anywhere near enough money to put the three of them through school. To make matters worse, their struggling parents were in contention; eighteen had been the agreed-on age at which they’d turn their children loose, but while Barney’s dad saw the state of things and wanted to keep trying to help their children, however hard that might be, his mom had been dying to be relieved of the burden and told him they couldn’t. In the end the two split up, with the divorce turning messy, and suddenly it was everyone for themselves.

The siblings entered the workforce to gain experience and money, and quickly found out just how heavy the weight of the world could be. Finding work was hard enough, but when one entry-level job proved itself insufficient, and all three were forced to seek extra employment just to figure out living situations. They kept in contact as they struggled for two years to make ends meet, without a lot of time for socialization or recreation. Eventually, Cassie found a way out in the form of a well-to-do young man looking for love, and after angrily pushing away her siblings for their disapproval, she quickly married. Another year of working and saving passed before Leanne abruptly seemed to drop off the face of the earth, after which Barney got calls from his parents within the span of a week. His mom was in debt and badly needed his help, which Barney could scarcely decline. His dad, meanwhile, had started up a new business that was sure hit, and asked him for a little investment. Hesitant but knowing the right thing to do to save his family, Barney shelved his plans of finally going to college for now and helped out as much as he could.

Some time later, Barney learned through his mom something that happened to Cassie. She’d been hospitalized, supposedly by falling down some stairs, although everyone involved had their own ideas about what happened. Her oddly nonchalant husband said that he couldn’t foot the medical bills, and with nobody else able to pick up the slack, Barney lent his aid.

At this point he was twenty-four, and though his life wasn't in a good place, he realized he would probably never have a chance at college if he didn’t go now. In fact, he reasoned that it might help him out, serving as a sort of escape from his previous situation that might encourage the others to try and get money elsewhere, guilty as that line of thinking made him feel. Going into debt was a desperate move, and it didn’t pay off. When the school year began, the twenty-four-year-old freshman realized all too soon that nothing had changed. He still needed to work, he still needed to send his relatives money, and now he had even more on his plate. He had no time. He wasn’t getting anywhere near enough sleep. Thanksgiving break was the first time he felt as if he could even breathe, but those scant few days passed quickly, and as he’s poised to return to school the lungful of air he received makes the sense of impending doom that much worse.

Scars: Barney is being crushed under the weight of responsibility as he struggles to earn the money so many people need from him, but at the end of the day, they’re still family. It would be a death blow to his moral code and reputation to turn his back on them--he would be heartless, selfish, alone and unacceptable. Scum. Time is running down with his principles and wellbeing on the line, begging the question which, if either, will give first.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Good question. I was thinking that all Personas would be able to use physical and gun 'skills' inherently based on what weapons they come with. Naturally Personas with a physical or projectile specialty would be stronger in those regards and have access to attack skills with special effects. Meanwhile, every Personas with an elemental specialty would start with the basic spell of their line. I will go ahead and include a skill list in the Personas section.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Oh, no, I just realized I have a concept I could (and want to) use for this. Guess this means some research, since I'm familiar with Persona only insofar that I've watched P5 (streams) a while back.

@SilverPaw

I'm happy to hear it! Please feel free to fire away with any questions, I'd be more than happy to lend a hand. Doing so could also potentially help me improve/better explain things in the OP, which would be good for everyone.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Great work, Potemking! You've pulled together a pretty compelling dude, and I'll anticipate his story unfolding when the RP gets started. That means the Star arcana is officially off the cards, so to speak.

I'll be putting together my own sheet in short order. No arcana decided yet, but the other pieces are all falling into place thanks to a bit of inspiration from the Persona. I wonder for most people if they start with the Persona and let the story of the chosen legend spiral out into a modern-day character, or make the PC first and then find a suitable identity for the Persona?

Anyway, in the meantime I'd be happy to chat or throw around ideas with anyone even tangentially interested. There could be a hundred people checking this out, but if everyone waits for everyone else to post first, we'll never know, right?

World of Light

Team Mao

Location: Al Mamoon Northeast - Rocket Inc.
Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Mao’s @Potemking, Jesse’s @Zoey Boey, Laharl’s @Dark Cloud, Joker, Mona, Fox, Necronomicon, Braum

One demon child down, one to go. Axe at the ready and what magic remained in his reserves primed, the Dragonborn rounded on Mao to engage him in mortal combat, but found himself assaulted by picture frames instead. He turned his axe to block his head from the unfamiliar projectiles, lest a lucky corner gouge an eye or chip a tooth, and watched out for whatever else his foe had coming. When Mao took to the air the warrior expected another jump and nearly launched a preemptive attack, but somehow the demon boasted enough alacrity to run along the nearby wall itself in order to gain height. An outstretched hand reached for him. Did he mean to disarm the Dragonborn? The well-traveled Nord narrowed his eyes. This foe was both nimble and strong, but no matter his tactics, the Dragonborn could leverage the tools at his disposal to come out on top. The reach of his longer arm plus his axe meant he could intercept Mao long before those stubby fingers could seize hold of anything. In the end it was a matter of timing--of experience. The Dragonborn imagined a mangy wolf lunging at him, jaws outstretched, and swung.

Then a series of loud bangs that he recognized by now as the report of a gun sounded out from somewhere behind him. Before the Dragonborn could so much as process the thought that he was about to get shot, let alone do anything about it, his knees just about exploded. A jolt of pure agony shocked his system, paralyzing him, and the next second Mao connected his grab. The demon grappled the Dragonborn to the ground with an impact he scarcely felt and a crash he scarcely heard, then stomped down on his helmet. The blunt force carried right through the forged iron and into his body, breaking his nose in a spurt of blood and stunning him.

Any normal man would have been concussed and down for the count, but the one who devoured the power of dragons was a man of steel. He possessed enough mental acuity to switch to and call upon the power of Conjuration, and from a sudden gout of magical fire above where he’d fallen the Dragonborn summoned a flame atronach. Other than that, however, he couldn't do much. Not without some help. He maneuvered his right arm to place the axehead between his own head and Jesse, a desperate attempt to stave off a killing shot, and with his other hand reached into his pouch to retrieve the magic bone he’d been given.

---

Though wary without their medic, Fox and Joker took to their heels nonetheless to rush to Ciella’s aid. They even managed to get a few steps before Jinx gave a croaking laugh of derision. “What, you’re gonna leave me here? Seriously? You know I’m just gonna plug ya the second I get my hands on Pow-Pow?”

The Thieves slowed to a stop and shared a look. “...Right,” Joker mumbled, having not thought things through much more than his friend did. The crackle of shattering ice brought their attention back to the conflict in the conference room, and Joker made another snap decision. “You go ahead, but watch out for friendly fire. Even if she’s not our enemy, she’s not exactly our friend, either.”

Fox glanced back at Jinx. “What about her?”

“She’s coming with me.”

As his ally nodded in understanding and ran off, Joker returned to the fallen gunslinger. She glared at him over a vicious smile. “Oh yeah? Just try somethin’ funny! But be careful, ‘cause I bite!”

The leader of the Phantom Thieves brought out his new pistol and leveled it at her head, staring down the barrel. Jinx stared back in a cold sweat, her teeth gritted. There wasn’t anything else quite like looking at someone in this way--staring death in the face, all pretense thrown aside. It brought out one’s true essence. It did for Shadows at least; Joker never so much as touched a gun in the real world, and hoped never would. But as the eyes of his captive had turned a lambent yellow as they bored into him. Negotiations could begin.

“Lend me your power.”

Jinx was taken aback. “H-huh? What was that? I’m kinda pissed right now, ya know. What’s that ya want?” She scoffed. “You understand me, right? Ya just waltz into our territory, actin’ like you belong here...who the hell d’you think you are!?”

Joker shrugged. “I’m me.”

“Shut up, smartass!” his captive fumed. “That just makes me wanna shoot you in your stupid smug face. Maybe that’s ‘cause it’s what I’d say.” The anarchist groaned and laid her head down on the ground, face scrunched up from the pain of her wounds. “Ugh...I’m gonna be killed no matter what, right? So tell me something first.” When the young man threatening her said nothing, she continued. “What kinda impression did I leave ya with?”

Tilting his head ever-so-slightly, Joker replied, “An unforgettable spark of chaos.”

The Loose Cannon grinned. “Hee hee...at least I’ll be remembered fondly, huh? Finally, someone who gets it. Hey…” Her eyebrows rose as she blinked. A blue mist surrounded her, lifting her off the ground. “I remember. I was born from the human heart. My name is Jinx. As long as you know rules are made to be broken, we’re on the same team, ‘kay!” In a swell of azure flames she disappeared into Joker’s mask. Without a word he turned and sprinted through the wreckage of the office building’s ground floor to where Fox had joined Ciella’s scrap with Amara.

He arrived at the same time as Midna, who’d taken a brief detour on her own before heading over to render her assistance. They found Fox taking cover by the door, his outfit notably damp as he watched a number of giant water arrows bouncing off the walls within. “Water blast, the moment I set foot inside,” Fox explained, pausing as one water arrow shot out through the doorway and burst inside a lovingly-decorated cubicle, sending sodden papercraft everywhere.

“That’s our cue,” Joker said, and with his dagger in hand he dashed inside. Before them lay a conference room to which the women fighting inside had laid total waste. Every scrap of furniture had been reduced to kindling and waterlogged, while chunks of ice lay everywhere. Ciella herself sported a number of fresh wounds, with her dress in particular scored by bullet holes, but despite that she seemed not much worse for wear. Joker figured she must be a lot tougher than she looked.

Amara, meanwhile, wasn’t faring that well, and the arrival of reinforcements didn’t help. She spotted them immediately and went for cover, yelling, “Damn it! Fight me one-on-one, you cowards!” Her Siren power flew forth, conjuring a fist of blue energy that rose from the ground beneath the interlopers. “Be still!” The Thieves leaped aside as it closed, catching Midna if she wasn’t quick enough.

Their rabbit-eared ally didn’t look much happier to see them. “She’s mine!” Ciella snarled. “Don’t you dare interfere!” From her longbow she unleashed a charged shot to wash away Amara’s icy cover.

Joker shrugged. “Whatever you say.” He fell back, with Fox along with him, ready to strike if necessary. That just left Midna to decide whether to accede to the fighters’ shared request or take action herself.

Big Band

Level 3 Big Band (20/30)
Location: Al Mamoon Northwest - Obelisk Temple
Primrose’s @Yankee
Word Count: 377

The incoming skeletons really had no idea what they were in for. Before the bony warriors even closed to melee range Primrose called forth her magic, welling up a frothing pool of black magic from the surface of the bridge itself to blow the less speedy skeletons apart in a geyser of darkness.

As the enemy’s backline fell to pieces Band took it upon himself to put his best foot forward. “AAHHAAY!” He burst onto the scene with a full-force Brass Knuckles, reducing the first bone rabble to its constituent components before it could even take a swing. Its friend lashed out with both swords at once but connected with nothing but air as Band backdashed. The bridge shook ever so slightly as he landed, which the detective took note of, but it hardly stopped him from launching a counterattack. “Hot socks!” He stepped into a crouch with Sharp Note, popping an oboe from his mechanical calf to poke his foe, then with a call of “Get hot!” sank down with a sound-blasting Bass Drop to pull the skeleton closer for a crushing Low Rank to end it. “Few!”

Another bone swordsman came up with a jumping attack that Band blocked, then punished with a throw. “Hey, listen here!” He extended halves of a bell from his torso, one from either side, to clamp together around both the jumper and its closest friend. As he did he pivoted around to face Primrose, then rang the bell to hammer the skeletons with its rings before he released them for her to finish off while he faced the rest. Toward the rest of the lightweights he charged with another Brass Knuckles, prompting them to block, only for him to perform an Emergency Break, stop short, and strike low with two Glissando trombones. From there an Overblow tuba blast sent them sailing.

Not counting those served up to the dancer, that just left the skeletons that pulled themselves together. As they clattered and snapped back into place (more or less) and rallied around a single four-armed bone warrior, Band shook his head and took a step back. “No time to clown around. Gimme a sec ‘fore I waste these things.” He deployed a set of bagpipes and began to play.

Fox

Location: Al Mamoon Northwest - Obelisk Temple
Fox’s @Dawnrider, Azwel

Against the odds Fox managed to dance through the danger, narrowly evading the myriad blades of both Es and Azwel in one daring display of alacrity. He escaped the mayhem with a special shot prepared, and as both other combatants reset to neutral with fresh wounds dealt by the other he faced Es with his blaster at the ready.

He pulled the trigger, speeding the Friend Heart the girl’s way, but as it made contact and fizzled into nothingness he quickly realized Es wasn’t worn down quite enough yet to be restored. The fight continued as Azwel ran in and Es unleashed a crest wave that traveled through the air as a projectile, a flying sword blade in its own right. Azwel leaped over, summoning his twin swords as he took to the air. Es spun about with a flourish, creating a large crest ring around her that began to pulse, and just before Azwel fell atop her she burst upward with a splendid sword uppercut that left behind a spiral of crest blades.

The sorcerer, however, had not tried to attack, but jumped ready to block instead. Evidently he’d already learned a thing or two about jumping in willy-nilly, and as Es launched herself into the air he readied his axe for a grand punish. He struck once low as she landed and corkscrewed forward, his blade revolving around to strike overhead. Then the girl’s ring activated, expanding from a ring into a spiked crest snowflake that skewered Azwel on one of its points. He then suffered an upswing into heavy chop, and as he rolled to his feet she came in to apply pressure.

Es did not anticipate a slow axe swing to her legs that swept her off the feet. With a grin Azwel summoned and threw his swords, one after another, from different angles to lift his foe higher into the air. At the height of her arc he leaped upward, almost to the ceiling, snagger her over his shoulders in a command grab and fell upon his floating shield in a sitting position. A crack sounded out, and as Azwel flung Es off she went in Fox’s direction. She swung as she came flying in, but it was clear nonetheless that Azwel meant for his ally to take his turn.

Ms Fortune

Level 4 Nadia (72/40)
Location: The Maw - the Depths
Blazermate's @Archmage MC, Bowser's @DracoLunaris, Ace Cadet's @Yankee, Sakura's @Zoey Boey, Frog's @Dark Cloud, Mirage’s @Potemking, Link’s @Gentlemanvaultboy
Word Count: 554

The plan had been made. Everyone was in place. All that remained was to actually do it. Nadia knew that she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous, but considering that she got to hang out in safety up by the ceiling while Link risked life and limb as bait, she had it pretty good. Suddenly, but not surprisingly, the little hero started making noise. Nadia’s grip tightened on her arm of the bolt cutters as the racket echoed through the Depths, both over and through its gloomy waters. A moment later the mutated Moreau made his entrance, rising to the surface with a hideous, wet-sounding roar. He plowed through the water like a mammoth shark, close to the surface, his long body gyrating in a corkscrew pattern to push him forward. Link fled back into the adjunct room as Moreau drew close. The monster’s flapping jaw-sections locked tight to form a single, solid mass, and with all his weight behind it the dread fish drove his head into the metal platform.

If the sound of Moreau hitting the water before was loud, the sound of his collision with the scaffold tower was downright thunderous. Along with the splash, which sent a wall of water across the platform and into the door Link jumped through, came the wrenching creak of buckled metal. The thin metal pipes that formed the stair tower’s supports broke without much coercion, but even the topmost platform itself bent and crumpled under the sheer mass of frenzied fish. At least with Link out of the way, there was ultimately no need to worry--unless your name was Moreau.

“Now!” Nadia yowled, perhaps needlessly, and together she and the trusty Cadet squeezed shut their bolt cutters. The final chain snapped cleanly away, allowing its former burden to drop like a sack of bricks straight for the garden of eyeballs that sprouted from the monster’s back.

The falling metal made contact with a thick, meaty thwack, and the effect was instantaneous. A guttural bellow shook the Depths as Moreau thrashed, a swath of the eye-like growths burst and bleeding all matter of unspeakable substances. Even better, a giant nail soared in from the direction of the Command Center and sunk right up to its head in eye meat, scoring some extra damage! Nadia loved to see it. “Didn’t like that one, huh? Feelin’ a little fishually impaired?” As the freakshow pulled itself away from the damaged scaffolding and plunged back underwater it became clear that the kids weren’t lucky enough to put it down on one drop, but dealing a blow like that was reason enough to celebrate. Nadia turned to the Cadet with a fang-toothed grin and extended a fist for a quick bump.

As she re-assessed the situation, however, it looked like repeat performances would be difficult. Even without the damage to the scaffolding and the platform atop it, which looked just about ready to fall apart and sink at the drop of a hat, the little team would need another conveniently-positioned bridge to drop. And right now, no more contrivances seemed forthcoming. “Looks like we can’t just rinse and repeat,” she observed. “Now what? Back to distractions?” Her bright eyes turned to survey the depths, but they turned up nothing. Wherever her friends were, she hoped they were okay.

---

Down in the depths, Mirage did not waste time fretting about the phantom corpse in the water, but instead renewed his diagonal journey with heightened alertness. Aside from the occasional bit of structure or machinery impeding his progress, no other issues confronted him as the BULL continued its descent. The vortex motor it utilized turned out to be a quality piece of tech, even if not quite up to the standards of the Legend’s own world, and it propelled the Universal Helper steadily onward. With stressful time passing slowly, the bottom floor of the factory crept up before Mirage knew it, and his light fell upon the door to the room whose water-eroded sign barely identified it as Flow Control, just where Peach said it would be.

As the BULL drew near, however, a beam of light originating from somewhere behind it moved frantically across the wall in front of him, and for a very brief moment he could see a dark shape housed within. It was humanoid, feminine, with a head of hair so long and swirled that they obscured a good chunk of the silhouette. It was a familiar shape, and one made much, much worse by the fact that it was moving. If Mirage put two and two together, he could realize what the cast light and shadow meant: that Junior’s submarine was both behind the BULL, and making contact with a potential enemy. Going forward meant reaching Flow Control and fulfilling the missing; going back meant potentially saving Junior’s skin, if the clunky Universal Helper could do anything about it in the first place.

Behind him, Junior attempted to take matters into his own hands, with the help of his Pokemon partner. The abrupt blotting out of the submarine’s searchlight did for a moment seem to convince the long-haired girl it had another chance to get closer, but with that darkness came a flurry of pain. Dark talons suddenly scratched at the soft white skin of her torso and face with a vengeful fury, with no source the wraith either saw or understood. Rather than attempt to fight back she fled at full speed, darting away into the darkness. With all the clutter around it was all too easy to lose track of her again, which left the daring duo right back where they started. Any moment now their attacker would come again, and maybe this time they wouldn’t flush her out fast enough.

While this unfolded, the Mockingbird was having troubles of his own. A light-sensitive horror blocked his path, but rather than let the gel-infused angler meander on by, the Mockingbird went on the offensive. It seized a piece of pipe and thrust it into the creature, but the water resistance and the less-than-ideal sharpness of his blindly-chosen weapon bogged him down. Its pipe pierced the horror’s twisted flesh, but no more, and the thing reacted. The eyes of the human face grafted into its eyes snapped open wide, followed shortly by the disfigured fish’s mouth as it lunged for the Mockingbird’s head. Instinctively it threw up an arm to protect its head, and when the nightmare jaws closed the angler took a chunk of forearm with it. Then it beat its tail, pushed past, and was gone. Shock flooded the Mockingbird’s mind, not from pain, but dissonance. Its copied mind needed to rectify its human visualization with its missing part and ruptured diving suit, and it needed to do it now, or go mad from the whiplash.

Cold Monastery

Location: Frozen Highlands - Alpine Skyline
Linkle’s @Gentlemanvaultboy

After laying eyes on Skadi, Albedo quickly became convinced that the problem before him was far beyond his abilities to solve. His domain was matter and science, researchable, quantifiable. Regular people were hard enough to come to grips with, but a being who didn’t operate on human terms even before she became confused? No chance. Once he reached the edge of the strewn-about drawings that blanketed the lion’s share of the floor here, he’d gone no closer, as if an invisible wall existed around Skadi through which neither could reach the other. Her appearance and behavior, so utterly alien and bizarre, made it seem to him that nobody could penetrate the barrier, but in retrospect he should have expected Linkle to try anyway. And somehow, against all odds, she had succeeded.

Never would he have thought to do what the Skullgirl did and try to reach her on her own terms, through the act creation. Her approach left him bewildered, and even ashamed. Creationwas something he could do. Through the power of alchemy he could achieve things that amounted to fantasy for the average person. But for all his power, he didn’t even think to use it in such a way. As Linkle seemed to connect with Skadi, and began speaking to her, Albedo looked down at the floor, his face blank. Isolation stems not from a lack of ability, but a lack of perspective. If this Skadi could connect with people but he could not, she was far more human than he.

As Linkle questioned her, Skadi scrunched up her face and tried to remember. The general airheaded look that clung to her slunk away as her new friend’s descriptions ran through her mind, disturbing the ground beneath which heinous things were buried. “Red-haired man...lots of tattoos,” she repeated, tapping her head with a marker. “Whore...son.” A few moments passed by quietly. Then her eyes jerked to face straight ahead, widened ever so slightly. A pained look crossed her face. “Ah...agh!” She clutched her head with both hands, jostling her multicolored pigtails. “No! Much hurt! Don’t wanna talk about it. Don’t wanna think about it!” The goddess twisted herself away from Linkle’s ice sculpture, as if the sight of it now invoked an awful memory, and buried her face in the sublime mass of her dog’s body. Looking sad, the creature nuzzled her.

The kerfuffle brought Albedo out of his stagnation. Clearly, whatever the Stranger did to her made her reluctant to even consider what happened. That made sense; anything that led to such a drastic personality change had to be heavy. The alchemist couldn’t say he understood the human heart very well, but if gods like Skadi were essentially human, he could apply what he knew. History said that the Archons of his world behaved rather like humans did after all, plying their powers in petty squabbles and bloody wars for dominion. This beaten-down goddess needed a change of perspective. He stepped forward. “What about revenge?”

Skadi opened her eyes, looking at him with bafflement. “Huh?”

Albedo crossed his arms. “The person who hurt you is an evil man, but worse than that, he is a bully. Capricious and cruel, without any care for picking on those weaker than himself. It is past time he got what is coming to him, and it is our mission to do so.” As he paused to draw breath, the eyes of Father Guerra fell on him with their brows raised. The priest knew that the Monastery’s guests opposed the Stranger, but to hear a declaration like this was something different. “You want this man destroyed as well, yes? You have the power to make that happen by telling us everything you know about him. That means you can take your revenge.”

In quiet Skadi mulled over the alchemist’s words, looking somewhere between hurt and alarmed. “Revenge.” As she lowered her hands her brows fell, casting her eyes in anger. She still knew the meaning of the word. “Yes. He ought to hurt, too. Make me feel a little better if that man were dead. Such blood. Very corpse.” She balled her fist.

Relieved that his words seemed to be reaching her, for more reasons than one, Albedo took another step forward. He half-expected her to question his and Linkle’s ability to actually accomplish this feat, but maybe she didn’t think about it that far. “Then tell us about what happened.”

“Maybe it’ll make you feel better if you let it out,” Linkle suggested. “You know, get it off your chest.”

Another couple moments passed before Skadi took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll...I’ll try.” As she sat up her dog scooted up beside her for support, and after laying down against the creature’s belly the goddess began. “He came one day. Asking about gods. But he didn’t care about most of them. Only...Norse.” She said the word slowly, as if its touch numbed her tongue. “That me. I mean, I’m Norse. I said yes, and he...confronted me, very anger. He asked if I knew some names. I said yes. He asked if I knew him. Said no. Then he asked one more name I know, and where...where she is. I asked why. He said...so he could kill her. For...what she did to him.” She shivered. “Such rage in them eyes. Made me shivery. Afraid for my daughter. I said no, I won’t tell him where she is. Then…” Skadi fell silent. Her gaze fell, and one hand went up involuntarily to her face. Then she cradled herself.

It wasn’t hard for Albedo to imagine what happened next. He exchanged glances with Linkle. “I am sorry,” he offered, knowing what people ought to say in that situation. “But we can make him pay for it. Every inch. Just...if you can tell us, what is your daughter’s name?”

Skadi looked up at him like a cornered animal, wary. “D-daughter? What do you...what do you want with her? Are you with...” As she shrunk back her eyes unfocused, and a smile crept across her face. “I don’t have one, silly! All I have is doge! C’mere, boy!” She turned to tousle his ears.

Albedo sighed. Perhaps his line of thinking had been wrong from the start, after all. Or maybe he just pushed too hard at the end, trying to get a little concrete information. “Unfortunate.” Hopefully Skadi hadn’t totally closed herself off.