Avatar of NoriWasHere

Status

Recent Statuses

11 mos ago
Current That was the worst three months of my life. Health is close to normal again. Here's to making the insurance company cry!
1 like
1 yr ago
"Your copay today is $20,000" How about no.
3 likes
3 yrs ago
Well, the "I am but an ally" to "queer af" pipeline is real.

Bio


I have gone by many names over my life, and the one I go by here is Nori.

I am a non-binary individual who has a love of participating in these stories and creating my own. I am incredibly chronically ill. If my illness flares up too much I may be pulled away.

Most Recent Posts

So, Campbell's campaign team currently consists of

- A former adrenaline junkie street racer
- An alcoholic monk bodyguard
- A journalist
- A aloof fixer.

What a great cast of characters/


Hey, I think media relations is the appropriate title for S'venia :P
@Ruler Inc

Sounds equally fun all the same!
@FernStone

Same with me. I had thought about making another post before the next GM one but decided against it. I have a feeling, in my gut, that things might be getting weird here at the hospital; really quick.
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Mayor's house
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@Trainerblue192@Achronum@Kazemitsu@Rultaos
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S’venia felt a presence enter the mayor's office and turned to see the Luvalon commander had arrived.

S’venia listened as the overly cheerful Luvalon commander offered her pleasantry. S’venia stood, posture perfect, in silence for a few seconds as she looked over the commander. Her eyes flowed over the intricate, yet sturdy, breastplate “Strong and durable,” S’venia thought as her eyes shifted more northward, “scale armor underneath,” she continued as her eyes shifted to the arm guards, “ornate but well crafted,” she finished her thought. “We are made all the stronger by your presence, Beatrix, “ S’venia paused as she shot out her free arm, “your exploits travel far and wide,” S’venia finished with a smirk. As they shook arms S’venia looked past the commander and saw a second commander was fast approaching. “Head over to war table,” S’venia started as a smirk appeared, “and remember, Roffella is Goddess to us all and not just those who worship her,” she finished as she let go of her arm; with the smirk disappearing as she did.

As S’venia let Beatrix move past her as she scanned the approaching commander. Tan, with an average build and less than ideal armor, S’venia smiled as she saw her cavalry commander striding towards "The League of Kyrantes also honors the pact made with the Council of Seven, and have answered the summons,” the commander started as he entered the building. "Commander Cyterius Yranov, Honored Lady. My blades, my men, and our horses are at your disposal, Commander S'venia. Now then... what are we here to discuss though the rest of the Council's forces have not arrived yet?" The smile quickly vanished from her face. “Greetin-” S’venia started yet, the sudden and high-pitched voice of her Lalafell commander pierced through the air cutting her off.

"Commander S'venia, as I'm sure you may be aware, and if you are not, I apologize for the shock, but I fear the rest of the forces may not be arriving. Have we heard any word from them,” the small creature asked. It took S’venia a second to adjust her vision to the commander, but when she centered her eyes on River all emotion left her face.

Yes,” S’venia paused as she walked over to a table to the immediate left of the door, “I have been made aware,” she paused, “not three hours ago, my scouts returned from their search,” S’venia used her free hand to grab what appeared to be a cloth with a sigil on it, “they had run into a caravan a few days prior. The caravan leader spoke of the aftermath of a great battle. They told a tale of Elves,” she paused as she grabbed and tossed the blood-soaked sigil, a dove overtop a bow, of the Grass Warriors towards River, before grabbing a second sigil that lay next to it, “and of Atala soldiers,” she paused as she tossed the equally bloody sigil towards Cyterius, “strewn across the road, cut down like they were cattle heading for the slaughter with nary a drop of their enemies blood on their own weapons,” she paused as she turned her body towards the three commanders, “my scouts have yet to make contact with the Iron legion as well,” pausing as she scanned the commanders, “as it stands we are the army. The soldiers we arrived with are our only ones,” she paused as she moved towards the door, closing it one effortless motion “take care of your soldiers, no silly games that might cause injury,” she paused as she shifted her focus to Beatrix, before returning it to the group as a whole, “and no surprises. We need to set up our guard rotation,” S’venia paused as she walked over to the war table, “come, we have much to discuss,” she finished as she turned around, back to the door. As she began to point at an object on the war table, the door swung open and a monstrous figure entered the scene

Kharne,” S’venia started, “I was wondering when you would arrive,” she paused as she turned her focus to the other commanders, “this one is tasked with keeping us safe from harm, and his skill-set is quite all encompassing,” she finished as she once again returned her attention to the map before her.

The next few hours were spent around said table. The first order of business was hashed out rather quickly where it was agreed that the guard rotations were to be a mix of soldiers from each faction spread out along the perimeter. A curious question from a curious person regarding the process of finding the Goddess drew the ire of S’venia. She quickly drew the Goddess sword and showed them just how they were to do it. During these few hours, S’venia assigned cooking responsibilities to the Luvalon chefs. In her own words, S’venia described the stories of their cooking exploits as something that “was hard to believe,” and to “have them prove me wrong.” Eventually, after they had finished discussing things as they pertained to the camp, they got right into the important stuff.

After we break camp here, in two days' time, we are to head to the town of V’alnor,” S’venia paused as she pointed to a location on the map, “it’s a two-day journey for us and we will restock there, your Luna Falcons will serve as our forward party,” S’venia paused as she turned her focus to the other commanders once again, “now that we have that out of the way, let us discuss our strategy for battle,” she paused as she looked towards the door, “I have heard what makes your soldiers strong yet we are more limited in our manpower now than I had ever envisioned as possible. As such, our battle plans are going to need flexibility in their execution,” she paused as she righted her posture.

How can I best use your forces in our limited manner,” she asked as she placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, “and any other questions, I know I presented you with a lot of information over these past few hours,” she finished. A chill began to fall on the camp as the group talked. While it was already cold, this chill felt unnatural.
@Hour Error

You like that? :D One of my character's likes is nicknames after-all :P The first iteration of yours was a mashup of zen and zeitgeist yet Budapest won out haha
@Ezekiel

Hey, I remember this guy from another Cyberpunk RP. He dropped a ship on our group, fun times.
@Atrophy *judges silently*

If the door is closed he will go through it. While in the current dimension, the door is closed and will stop physical interaction, when Cyrus reactivates Hike! he ascends up to an iteration of the fourth dimension. So I'd imagine he'd be able to go through the door as if it were still open. (Though if he goes through a door, someone closes said door, and if he tries to return to a snap shot that's now within the closed door, I don't imagine the final few seconds of his life to be very pleasant at all.

For the Hike! I don't think so. In my mind, Hike! will pull him back quick (I'm thinking for every five seconds under the spell, the return trip might be one second) The second form, Break!, is pretty much instantaneous.
@Ruler Inc

I just looked up what the nightmare fuel TV trope was. Oh god. Cyrus's sanity. If he can survive each encounter, he's going to be that guy. Y'all's characters, battle-hardened and with a thousand-yard stare, will look at him and say "that might have been bad, but it wasn't as bad as watching your best friend/leader/frienemy/strongest avenger being skewered and dissolved in-front of your faces bad, toughen up buttercup."
@Ruler Inc Cheers, boss. I am always in a creative mood and will take that liberty every chance I get.
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St. Mercer Hospital

@FernStone

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Cyrus listened as two of the women in front of him attempted to explain the situation. “Oh, were just having a friendly conversation in the middle of a hospital,” the one responded and Cyrus crooked up his right eyebrow at the sarcastic response. She was pale, extremely so, and was somehow not at all bothered by the scene before her; the two dead bodies and a possible third on the way. “.....something coming after all of us and we need to get away from it. That’s not very reassuring is it,” Cyrus missed the first half of what she said but he heard the second part all too clearly. Something, not someone. His eyes darted towards the two dead bodies and felt a wave of unease wash over him. There was something wrong with the two bodies; besides them, you know, being dead. There was a feeling in the back of his head telling him that they did not belong here. Not in this lobby, nor in this hospital, not even in this city or in this state; no, there was some other-worldly presence he felt when he cast his gaze upon them.

"No, I, uh," Cyrus paused as his staring conteset with the dead man continued, "very, ha," he paused and let out a nervous chuckle, "very vague," he finished.

His attention, however, drifted from the bodies and towards the woman named Zoey. Something about her seemed off as well. Was it the fact that she was pressing another woman into the wall? Was it the question she asked earlier? Or was it the blue elec- “wait,” Cyrus thought as his head tilted slightly to the right, as his eyes widened with shock, “is..is she always that electric,” he asked aloud. As soon as he spoke, he noticed a mark on her hand that seemed all too familiar. His eyes quickly darted down to his own hands, his eyes scanned the moving markings on of his own before they darted back over to the woman. Something was telling him to trust these complete strangers, something deep within the core of his being. He thought he heard other voices speaking yet he did not hear the words said as he once again looked back down to his hands.

His brain, on the other hand, told him to run. They were too calm around these bodies. They were standing idly by as one woman was assaulting another. What if they killed those people? How did they force that man to punch himself so hard his hand went into his body? These questions started to pile up in his head as his eyes darted from stranger to stranger; his brain reminded him to run. His eyes shifted to the dead nurse. What if he was next and they were trying to get him to let his guard down; and then his brain reminded him to run, and so he did.

And so, in one quick motion, Cyrus turned his body around and was off. His first few steps had the wobble of a sailor on dry land for the first time in months, the mental strain of three concurrent perspectives showed their effect. He stumbled and nearly fell over in process yet his muscles remembered how to run, and soon enough he found his stride and was off. His shades remained stationary, however, and through their perspective, he could still see the strangers. Gaining distance from the group now, the sound of his bare feet slapping along the tile floor of the hospital echoed off the wall; and the echo reached the ear of one of his shades. How can he still see them and how was he hearing the echoes grow further in the distance of himself running?

He questioned himself one too many times on the subject of his shade, unfortunately. On accident, and without much thought from himself, Cyrus mentally reactivated his abstraction. Immediately, he felt his feet being pulled out from underneath of him as he flew backward, towards the shade. *wham* In an instant, Cyrus was back in front of the group and a shooting pain entered his head once more. His body went from running in the opposite direction to facing the group once more, at that. “I’m going crazy, I have to be,” Cyrus spoke to himself as he fell to one knee, his eyes resting on the strange markings on his hands once more.
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