Noxious

Hunting Beasts and Monsters (Remake)

@Noxious

"Oh, are you now?"



_{Nah, but you can if you want to.}

@Guilty Spark

I'm thinking, maybe...

[+]

Tennin Akashita

^{but I bet we could both do it and and and I'm still not sure I have the time.}

Hunting Beasts and Monsters (Remake)

I'm thinking a shadow using hunter chick. I do not mind the insanity.

Exegesis

I'm leaning towards crime boss or noble.
How many people are magically inclined?

[closed]

I'm impressed by the rate everyone posted, looks like we need maybe one more, or at least a couple, no worries though. Still some time left for entries!

From when the plot actually begins, there isn't a specific posting order, nor is there a limit to how often you can post in-between plot-movements. Now I estimate that some of you are familiar with collaborating posts. I'm always on the line with this, so I wager that it be kept to quick interchanges of dialouge, otherwise [to me] it looks like a one-on-one?

Feel free to give me your thoughts on this.

@Rockette

If you're having a quick conversation or you need input on an action/question collaborations are great. Sometimes it isn't important enough to warrant another post. It may become more vital for fighting if people are in the same proximity.

Exegesis

You had me at transhumanism, or was it Great Old Ones, maybe it was just tentacles.
I'm picturing Shadow Run meets Lovecraft with a politically motivated plot?

NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

Loving the posts so far! I think y'all are doing a great job at making your characters personalities shine. I'm working on the next one, but still waiting on @Hellis, @Irisity and @Moon.

[closed]

_____________________________________________________________________________

SOLDIER base; Nearest Ridge Point. 0430.
_____________________________________________________________________________

There was something mortally prophetic that lingered and created a stagnation of juxtaposed hope and hopelessness early in the genesis, before even the first notch of sunlight thrummed across the ridge line. It provoked a strain that took up inhabitance upon her tightened and stiff jaw muscle as she listened for the discordance and correspondence of the main star to tug at the reality she feigned cohesion amongst. The taut muscle was pressed against the cold soulless gunmetal of the R-36 particle rifle, teasing the particle accelerators with a viscous finality that had created a vague curl on her barely parted lips. The scene had remained an unflinching tableau for the antecedent dawn. The only movement to denote life signs was the soft agitation of her escaping mortality, a heated breath that licked across the barrel in listless succession just below the sight. Her eyes were a burnt umbra coated in a machinelike sheen, unblinking, refined in a death of self and exhilarated with a faux melding of femme fatale, machinery, and predawn; a corporealization of the godlike sickness that promised dominion over every flinching life sign within the scope.

The sickness was prevalent and palpable as the sympathetic mist that kissed at what little exposed skin it could find, leaving wakes of tiny dew drops that helped ground her cognizance. It seduced her aura and laid claim to it’s own exposure in the fringes of her pupils, coaxing the suffocating pupil to cynosure. The intent of all of this was muddled in training and meditation; with rumors wrapping those in a shroud of insatiable drive circumscribed in a flittering sanity so that the only one who could give meaning to this ante meridiem was the untrustworthy narrator of its experience. Rather than force an understanding she would leave the why to linger in minds more hindered by necessity of explanation than her own, she simply did; the ever malleable perfect SOLDIER.

When some intangible moment, predetermined within aberrant subconscious, struck upon the scene the lissome girl joined the living with a shifting of her tense shoulders, removing the eradicating muzzle from the play field and aiming at the once praised palace of divinity that now served as a reminder of new gods. She pulled herself groggily from the zen like contemplation of destruction and connection so that she could rise up, finding her body a poor symbiotic friend to the vociferous and malignant intent within, enough so that a pout nudged itself onto her lips. The pout did little to subdue the allurement that somehow continued to cling to her flesh; abused by a myriad of both recreational and employment incidents; but, as it seems to be with youth, the foothold of the abuses was misplaced in an immutable genetic bounty.

It was at once the same, and not the same, genetic fruition that coaxed in the latent ability; recalling wisps of atmospheric cover and harking a latent deception of form that currently strolled towards the Valkyrie bike; a feral beast by design and nature, powered by a soft hum of electricity that charged and fired to life with a prehensile nudge of her defining imprints. She had not strayed far from the central hub of the base, a little over a click out into the grounds, but it proved enough of a journey that time fabricated validation to thoughts questioning self in the philosophical limits of her overall apathy. It was not “to be, or not to be”, but rather “to become, or to recede” and her life had been such a banal tryst with recessions that she was even more hardened in the righteousness of her current placement.

Her vehement study through the scope should not be taken as indicative to a need for release, no, like many of her counterparts she found the grounds expansive and inclusive to the her needs. But there was something else: a soul quivering beckoning that was carried on the wisps of moon laced zephyrs as they whispered to her already restless spirit; a promise of harmony and understanding that rested just out of apprehension so that she spent as many waking hours in this endeavor to reclaim something that felt, misappropriated. She found a semblance of this while the guns internal operating system and her own, both freshly programmed, sorted through the scope as they reached far into the horizon; grasping for the infinite loop of nothing and everything. She never fired the gun up there. That wasn’t the point.

All of these preceding observations and insights slithered back into the mists of a tainted mind as the SOLDIER mess hall and barracks took monopoly of her outlook. The pout had long since dissipated, but she failed at any attempt for stoic and instead donned a lax smirk. A melodic and catchy doom chantey portraying the Aeons as silly creatures of rainbow deaths and fluffy bears exploding insanity began to play across her mind as she parked the Valkyrie in its designated spot. A languid movement detached her stature from the quieting bike and she adopted a jovial tempo towards the main entrance while rolling shoulders that threatened to ossify without some alleviation. By the time her carriage lined a muscle hugged hip to the mess hall door and smacked an entry she was humming the ridiculous tune at a level only audible to anyone violating her personal space.

A pair of sunglasses were tugged by digits that recalled something spider like, covering dilated pupils that persisted in a burdensome focus even as they were willed to desist. Routine ambled towards the food, unrushed. It was early yet and it seemed the heavy shift had thus far not found themselves here so she collected a mundane variation of the usual; a whole grain nut muffin, a pear, orange and glass of water. Luck found a slightly dimmer corner and abating sleeplessness inclined her head to press her ear to the calming pulse of her conditioned heartbeat cascading within the corpuscles that seemed barely contained, yet thoroughly a static resident. She would just entertain this lackadaisical pinching of food into her mouth, rest her eyes for a moment, one tiny brief insignificant fading moment

_{how long did she drift off, 15 minutes, 30?}

Sunglasses were pushed back as she raised her head, a rosewood tinted stare interrupted by an annoyance of blinking as her mind fluttered from alarm to intrigue and was caught by a man across from her. Confusion followed his out turned hand past the point of his finger and to her summons before tagging-in excitement, who rarely sauntered in without nerves. Her own voice, unused in any hominid vocalization in hours, surprised her as she thanked her compatriot before taking up a determined pace towards the Council Room. Excitement, nerves, exhaustion; the choice of culprit offers varied selections but the effect was the same, shaking fingers draw stray hair segments into narrow braids that are tucked within other braids, multitasking for the modern woman as she tried not to think of every possibility that could be clicking into place as she walked. She would know soon enough, but the eagerness seemed wired into her so much as breathing. She could only hope for an opportunity to prove herself.

[closed]

Almost done. <3 the posts so far.

The Wicked, The Weird, The Ugly. (Western/Horror.)

She was crouched down towards the ground, resting on her haunches and gazing out at the skyline. Her features were afflicted with thought that bent them into furrows contradictory to her youth. Then again, youth was such an absurd concept; they never seemed to notice the way death crept upon their features, and why should they? A slow death that marked the aged would never consume them. There were too many dogs in the fight for claiming their ill evolved bodies that the calming serenity of passing from days wasn’t even a flicker in the focused mind.

Clawlike nails dug into the dirt at her feet, sifting it about in her hands and letting it fall into the suffocating wind before reaching the same digits to her face and pressing them to her nose. She gave it a sniff before dropping it back to her side and rising up to her full 63 inches. “Something is waiting.” She spoke in a solitary tone that barely escaped into a conscious idea, but it didn’t pass away unnoticed. A tall lean man canted his head towards her and allowed a goofy grin to spread across his lips. She didn’t return the smile, and in fact had moved her gaze to dwell on the town that seemed to be tightening some primordial noose.

“The meeting probably isn’t waiting on us.” The smile had infected his tone and she sneered at the town in response.

“No. Something else.” She glanced at the man to the north of her shoulder, finally acknowledging his disposition. “You sound almost excited about the meeting.”

“Aren’t you?” His grin became self conscious and slipped away, calling back the usual sedated contemplation. “It’s rare to talk to others that understand.”

Cocheta scoffed at the assertion and wrapped her arms across her chest. “I am not optimistic about their understanding. It’s going to be a waste of time. You should be going if you are so excited.”

“I’d better not.” He started looking at the town and he found the same sneer she had worn infectious. Her leather boots dragged enough to send nugatory swirls of dirt following her path to the dappled appaloosa. She reached into the horse’s side pack and pulled a couple things out. She buttoned a thin cotton black long sleeve that fell almost to her knees and then wrapped a leather ammunition belt with holster around her waist. She was slipping a knife in her boot when the man turned to speak, “Send word as soon as you can. We’ll be nearby.”

Her response was a nod as she pulled a dark and dusty cowboy hat onto her head. “I’ll be in touch; good luck.” She smiled for the first time, but it was still infected by the by the gloom of this place. She grabbed at a tuft of horsehair and pulled her nimble form to slide up on the sturdy creature. She raised a palm to the man and he responded in kind as she turned the horse towards the town, heading for the lone road that lacked even good intentions for paving.

She traced back to try and collect memories from her last visit to a populated area. She was coming up short until she felt the throbbing of a few mundane eyes following her. She had hunted various flesh eaters, but the isolation of strangers starring jarred her for some reason. She pulled the hat a little lower over her eyes and found a bit of solace in spotting the Lone Stallion. She made a click from the side of her mouth and the horse eased to a stop and let the girl slide down. She didn’t have reigns to tie the horse up with, but it wouldn’t matter. They’d spent enough time together she had little concern that he’d up and decide to wander off now.

She pressed her palm into the door of the Stallion, gauging the vibrations of voices and ambience on the other side before pushing it open and slipping in as subtly as her lithe form could manage.

V I L E

Hey, if you're still looking for some people I might throw a bone into the pile?