@Ozerath - Hrm. For blonde boys in their twenties I found these through a search. Unless you need a younger range, I can't remember all the Conrad boys from the first TSW.
edit. And don't forget the magic rule everyone! β‘ Post updates about yourself in the out-of-character thread whenever you can. If you have nothing to say, the magic words are: The Wicked Witch of the West went her own way.
@Prisk - Wonder Women? Yes. Yes, you are. Oh, it was pointed out to me. Gleam is not listed in the exotic effects, I thought it was originally for Immune to Holy, or has it changed?
A post for you dears, happy reading! Remember, we encourage that you move the story along however you wish, you don't have to rely on me and Priskins at all for these missions, not entirely at least. β₯
edit. For some cursed reason, my word documents are gone. Hopefully I can recover them, otherwise, my third character will remain an entire mystery. I'll write them from scratch, no worries, it's just going to be a . . . process.
T H E F I E L D S // June 6. // H a m m e r O f T h e A r m y.
Any further attempts of progression immediately dispelled from parted lips, coral tinged hues of dual softeners waned into a lax rejection, a slender brow furrowing and surrendering above crystalline observations bathed in rigid twines of ice and glimmered only by the faintest of injury. Muscles corded and cemented, marrow withstanding and constructed into pillars of solid flesh coated in a sheen of snowy remains. Monika's ingrained psychics tore the Caladbolg from her corded spine, arachnid vice splayed over ebony with twinges of properly equipped anxiety that was both units of expectant and rapt captivation. The terrors of unknown and esoteric origins of obscurity were possessed of all nuances of dismay, horror, and parasitic inclinations. Simulations had bred and replicated this art of assimilation to degrees of potent ruin, enough to sanction a breadth of defeat when impossible scenarios cultivated from nightmarish psychology had reaped her of confidence and power in those mires of digitization. In brief comparison, the fallacy of those regiments were mute dread to this illustration of pure, unadulterated trepidity: gaping maw, jowls flaying wide to expose carmine innards of that hellish orifice that yawned to consume them of both marrow and soul. Caladbolg was a stalwart objection when muscles twined and flexed, pulled, and jerked the massive sword to be equipped with both arachnid splendors of her frigid grace, Monika's arms tensed, bunched and corded and she shifted her stance; scattering remnants of silver dust.
That physical manipulation alone summoned a screech of defiance, peeling into a crescendo that bore all the dressings of a eerie battle cry. Alone, the piercing wail created a champion effect, Monika's palms boring harsh against the Caladbolg as fissures of luminescence bloomed, swift illustrations of ribbon in glimmering hues of gold and white, a sort of lunar and solar conception that laced around the length of her sword. She swung her sword back, allowed her posture to wane and lifted Caladbolg in a careening arc that spiraled those spirits into a sworl of activity. An emotion of absolution struck her hard, stole both breath and mind, spiraled within the depths of her soul where vulpine women danced and swayed, masks of mortals envisioned there; seducers of the trickster inclination. But time would not serve her, nor them, the Mordrem recognized the pull of energy, the swell and crest of Holy aptitude christening the dismal, rejecting the woe, and the creature responded by lifting both claws that gleamed ebony and ruined with sediments of a tainted bed. Monika cursed inwardly, leaping back with a profound sense of agility and permitted the weight of her sword to fall, glancing off the hardened shell of those vicious talons that struck the earth. The creature roared, not allowing the momentum to lax and falter as gargantuan arms lifted once again, chunks of festering soil and rock in grasp and thrust the remains at the Guardians. Still swathed in ribbons of light, Monika could only roll from the debris, earth colouring her complexion in flecks and dusts of bister.
The opponent was agile, a momentary error on her estimation, but the effect of movement provided an opening, a brief sector of unprotected hide. Monika clasped Caladbolg in a trembling hold, splayed and rigid and pitched the claymore forward, a singular arc that conformed light and energy and bequeathed a Holy blast from the performer of grace and vengeance. Spirits wailed and burned, swallowing ebony tresses, sallow skin in swathes of flame, empowering and configuring a wealth of protection and promise from her gleaming sword. Monika inhaled sharply, hoisted her sword once again and witnessed as her sanction of spearing righteous impaled the Mordrem, the wailing pitch that swelled after the blow sounding both pain and fury. A blood as thick and vicious as tar in the pools of pitch bled and sluiced over a degraded house of flesh. But, she recognized the lingering effects of her divine components, the shimmering eclipse burrowed within once her spear of light vanished, weakening the membrane to any graces of similar purity.
"Go for the right!" Monika called forth, pivoting her sword forward, displaying her grace and agility as she followed up from the tearful screech of agony, the silver edge of her claymore shunted deep, her weight following to plunge her massive blade in further.
T H E F I E L D S // June 6. // Nexus Reactor.
They all followed suit, akin to lambs, Ollie reflected and felt naught a twinge to reprimand his internal monolouge. He was reflective on his exterior finesse, but within, he was a pitch of festering venom from every personality and every ideal he championed and falsely advocated to. Regardless of their lacking initiative, Ollie also found himself in coffers of fortune; this way, none would be inquiring to his motives, his reason, his mission and permit him to search the facility looming before them. His arm went taut, scarlet sparks and ebony shadows twining his arm, humming low in their essence as herds of Mordrem spewed from the gloom, roars and bellows, screeches and twittering wails that required the release of his arrows. Ollie immediately fell back, stepping aside for the melee aficionados and began his trajectory towards the Reactor, picking off Mordrem as he went. These were lesser creatures, mere child's play in his perspective. The bequeathed Army attended to those they could reach and access, leaving the scattering remnants of their parasitic foe to the Guardians. Ollie didn't falter in his strides, The Magus Bow was loyal and sound, it required minimal effort to these vermin and he swelled at that, a simper of fracturing proportions that broke and chiseled across his countenance as the Reactor stairwell drew closer in accessibility.
With one last arrow permitted, Ollie pirouetted and ascending the steps, dull thuds against metal and with grace and delicacy befitting to his permission, he managed to open the doors to the Reactor. Darkness lurked there, those depths barely broken and manipulated by bulbs of chartreuse that barely glowed in the shadows of the abandoned facility. Ollie took one quick observation within, eerily quiet and still when compared to the commotion occurring just below him. He informed the Guardians and their assigned sniper with quick execution of his sheathed digits, articulate in formation and gesturing to the now permitted grounds of their true destination. Ollie didn't desire to draw attention of their current adversaries with words, his signs efficient enough, Guardians were trained to assimilate all grounds of battle and combat, and he would not risk Mordrem pouring into the grounds. His arm flex and twined, producing another arrow to be nocked and released within seconds of placement, finding purchase within the bulbous eye of a quivering Modrem with grotesque wings and venomous talons.
MT. K I N A B A L U // June 6. // T h e C a v e s.
Magma boiled, molten liquid sweeping in fascinating torrents through blackened rock and shimmering in vermilion spheres through the blankets of pitch and shadow. The mountain was restless, awakened, and quaking deep within the bedlam of ebonette soil as if wreathed in anticipation and threat. Those sweltering pools of shadow conformed, bound and wedded to an individual seated within the abyss, undisturbed by the heat and the chaotic whiles of natures teeming about them. Depths of sapphire contrasted strongly against the scarlet air, tinged with the breath and power of a creature lurking deeper within the muck and sable depths of the mountain. Infinite spirits were so amassed in the atmosphere, the very components of the air were shimmering in those hues, visible in their vast quantity and challenging briefly against the eternal pools of piceous ink-like spirits that were accompanying them.
A vibrating sound bloomed from the rear, a low grounded timbre that struck that figure to their bones.
"Five Guardians landed this morning. I can sense them in village now... They draw closer to the Mountain. There's six of them now." Reminiscent of the bell tones of a funeral march, the cadence of this statement was wreathed in dregs of apathy.
Another vibrating quaked, leashing the figure in shudders, and those sapphire glimmers were aglow.
"They can only be from Oak Ridge.. Whatever their intentions are, I know them not."
The response was a multitude of roars, a growling, grating rejoinder that bathed the cave in various hues of carmine, each a varying shade.
"We can sense no illness or wrath, but they foster and adhere to different ideals concerning the rumours and tales spread. I'd wager they will come here. They will find this place."
This time, nothing answered, nothing but crippling silence. It was akin to a baited and impregnated surprise, a sudden feeling of primal instincts that bathed the essence and the figure there. They breathed and the thickest of sombre shadows bloomed far and wide, eclipsing every rock and crevice in pitch.
"We'll keep you safe, my friend."
And at the peek of the mountain path, that figure was stationed, a lone silhouette bathed in shadow, surrounded by cores of pulsating rubies and that bore eyes of a shattering sapphire that spoke and illustrated a wizened wealth of agony; awaiting the Guardians to ascend.
They will not get to you.
Monika prepares to attack G A S T R I D A M O N, but the Mordrem attacks first, swiping claws at her and the Guardians, she dodges, and once again is forced to back away as G A S T R I D A M O N launches chunks of earth. Being left open, Monika attacks using her S P I R I T: Vergeltung [ holy ]. Which inflicted [ - Vampire ] onto the the target. And [ + Empower Lancer ] [ + Dawn ] onto herself and any of those near her. G A S T R I D A M O N is wounded by her assault, and she follows up with a strike of her sword, impaling deep into the hide.
And so the Reactor begins, with Mordrem pouring from the shadows to attack, Ollie dispatches them easily, backing up towards the Reactor and manages to open the doors, he gestures to the rest of the Guardians to follow and assemble as they can and strikes down another. The Reactor is eerily dark within, with small bulbs lighting the way. * The cast is encouraged to either split up, stick together, or whichever is their fancy!
Within the cave, something lurks, something is there with someone. Whatever it is that lies within, a conversation is issued, hinting briefly to the possibilities of something more than just rumours. A promise is made, with the figure in question awaiting for the Guardians in the village to make their way up the mountain path.
My original intentions were thwarted, but alas I cannot staunch my concepts, so I decided to tweak my multitude of ideas to better fit the dressings of a forsaken Branded. I'm assuming we PM character submissions for review?
@ravenDivinity - I appreciate your attempts to cement my initial interest, but, it was an apparent poor choice of words and timing on my circumstance. All is well regardless, I still wish everyone the best in this endeavor: no harm, no foul - as you've put it. I just wanted to speak up and claim my sincere thanks to you!
Ah, I proclaimed interest in the check with intentions of Rennigan, looks like I was late to the ooc though. No worries, I'll keep an eye scoped out at least through the characters and beginning premise. Best wishes!
Member
Qia
TrippyNightmare
Redacted
OliveYou
Hos
Melissa
Snowdrops
TokyoPewPew
AmongHeroes
AlteredTundra
