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In SPIRITUM 2 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Justice


Of course--Morden's hunch had to be correct. Things just had to immediately be fucked up. Just the luck of the Barghests.

Justice was the first to notice. The sudden vanishing of mist was too different to not notice. The wind on her skin as if it were blown by a storm. She knew what this was about. Justice didn't become 2nd class because she was good at being a shield and radar dish.

The door creaked open.

Justice had already began to run down one of the guards in the corner. She closed the distance in a flicker, the spook barely being able to lift his handgun up. The bullet fired. The bullet grazed her hair as she drove even closer with hand parrying the pistol upwards. In one fluid motion, she knocked her fist directly into the guard's throat, sending him reeling.

Clink. The flashbang hit the ground.

She didn't stop running. No, she ran the guard down. With agility, she used his knee as a step as she ascended the spook. Once reaching the summit, she kicked behind her using the wall as leverage. The guard was sent stumbling towards the center of the room.

Then he tripped.

He landed on top of the flashbang.

"Anything!" She yelled to the Barghests. They would know what she meant.
i am alive
In garbage zone 7 days ago Forum: Test Forum
When the gates of hell opened, humanity cowered and feared at what was to come. Infernal beasts. Abyssal dreadmaws. People expected the devil to come with trident in hand, ready to unleash the apocalypse. It was quite a surprise when he showed up with board shorts, a beach towel, and a sunhat.

Turns out, demons were pretty alright. The stories of hellfire and eternal damnation were blown out of proportion. It was more of a frigid bureaucracy, if anything. They were just like us, except for the horns and magic. They just wanted a nice spot for vacations.

To deal with the international political issues that would arise from a friendly demon invasion, an independent island city was built in the middle of the Caribbean sea. The city of New Helle is the one city on Earth where demons can freely visit and live. As such, it's a city filled with casinos, beaches, resorts, and general vice.

Of course, not all demons were interested in fun little excursions to the mortal realm. There wasn't just criminals interested in slinging hash or extorting money. Now there's demons ready to blast skulls with brimstone and hellfire.




OP - 「NIGHTLESS CITY」















Character sheet:

[img]image here--try to make it anime or at least similar to others if you use one[/img]
[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b] (Normal human limits, for the most part. Demons vary--the slower the metabolism, the longer the lifespan. Don't go ancient, though. Call it a 250 year max, not counting hibernation)
[b]Description:[/b] (Consider this a combination of appearance, personality, and history)
[b]Ability:[/b] (What your character is good at, more or less. Magic, whether contracted or innate, goes here too)
[b]Artifacts:[/b] (Put what artifacts--be they talismans or blades--your character possesses and uses. Fundamentally, they should just be a written description of what its called, what it does, what it looks like, and its associated history if applicable)
[b]Connections:[/b] (What does your character think about others and vice versa? Also list any recurring NPCs here)
[b]Misc:[/b] (Put anything that doesn't fit in other sections here. Fun facts, home locations, important things I need to know that don't fit in other locations, etc.)

and the rage of a mage


Macaron followed as the razor-like strings returned to her skin. It was probably a bad idea to follow strangers, but she did so anyways.

With each word from the werewolf woman, Macaron's face became more and more distorted. It was anger that had quickly boiled over. She was only moments away from interrupting and screaming at the werewolf. Then, the object of her ire had ran off. Before Macaron could begin cussing at her, gunshots echoed throughout the empty streets.

"What's much is the fact that you won't just fucking say what happened." Macaron yelled at the woman as she ran off. Of course, Macaron chased after the werewolf woman--whether it was to rabbit punch her or deal with whatever conflict was ahead, she hadn't decided yet.

It didn't take much to figure out what was going on on the other side. A bunch of mages wielding guns. A beast raising its haunches. Macaron's form was already distorting with magic. Her fingers became distended, nails becoming sharp claws. Her mouth and jaw warped, twisting to a more lupine form with dagger-like teeth exposed from her snarls. Her muscles bulged and swelled, her coat doing what it could to not rip and tear more than it already had.

The young, brown-haired mage advised them all to listen. Macaron was beyond that. No, at this time, the only language she spoke was violence. As the spikes from the blonde mage erupted, Macaron had bounded across the street in a feral leap at the beast. Her ceaseless rage--one built over the smallest inconvenience--would only stop when enough violence had been extolled.
In SPIRITUM 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Justice


For once, everything came up Justice. In spite of her comrades' best efforts, there was no critical failure that would have given her a conniption. She put her papers back in her pocket and waved to the guards outside the city.

To the Dunbarton Bier Fest it was. Rather than the screams of disaster and chaos, it was the screams of revelry and men being tossed through doorways for getting handsy. It was a vile place. One that assaulted the senses and sickened every part of her. But she'd live. It was better than going from fight to fight just trying to get from point A to point B, at least.

All that they needed was to hand off the princess. Just that. Then they could go back to their regularly scheduled itinerary of whatever city it was.

"I think I need a drink." She said to nobody in particular with an exhale. "But after we get the princess to whoever. We'd probably lose her if we started to celebrate early."

and the sweltering grudge building inside


The can of soda did its job. While she would have enjoyed the woman in front of her being pelted by a can, the sticky alternative of hours-long discomfort was good enough for Macaron.

"Yea. We're even. Even Stevens." She said with a shrug. Though, in her mind, they were very much not Even Stevens. But Macaron could wait to get even. She had a whole lifetime ahead of her to settle her newfound grudge--probably.

Surprisingly, the comment of Macaron shirking her lineage didn't bother her. Most of it was her not giving a shit about her lineage. To her, her blood was what it was. A nuisance she was born with and learned to live with. And it wasn't like she was awful at magecraft--that good little girl made sure to carve her body with some semblance of mastery of her family's craft even if unstable. One that wouldn't decay, no matter how much she languished and wasted away.

"I wonder." She said as she brought her hands together. A faint hint of magecraft--transformative in nature--warmed the pale air of the Dark City as Macaron moved her hands apart. Threads of skin stretched between her hands in a childish pattern. A game that Macaron quickly began playing alone, the skin-threads looping around her fingers as she gestured to form different shapes. The snake-like woman would have a feeling that if she tried to partake in the fun, her fingertips would be sliced off in thin sheets.

"And it's not a competition. We can both be little children. Goo goo gaa gaa."

She paused.

"And elaborate on shit--because most people have the common sense to not send letters unless you're a fed or sending it to Santa."

Seemingly, a brief moment of lucidity came over her.

"Especially letters to me."
title card subtexts are my favourite part of writing posts

and an arm chambered in 6.62x12.3cm


It was fortunate that Macaron had been so preoccupied with the mix of macaroni and murder. Usually, she would have made a greater mess whenever someone told her to clean.

"Mm." Macaron blankly replied with macaroni in her mouth. In truth, Macaron couldn't fully remember what bitch Hideji was talking about. Some mixture of forgetfulness, tunnel vision, and common occurrence made her fuzzy on her recollection. It did sound like her, though. She probably did follow up on that--followed up pretty hard, by how things usually went with her.

Of course, she didn't really care when Hideji was going to go out on his own business, like how she didn't really care that he came by to make some noodles.

"Have fun with that." Macaron said in a tone that a teenage girl would say to their father.

-----


Macaron never really cared about how she moved between places. Whether it was the sticky, pollock-like seating of public transit or unlocked bicycle, it mattered not to her.

And she thought nothing as she approached the Dark City behind Jebby Tim's. She thought even less. Such dangers and risks weren't worth thinking about. She was about to kill a bitch. She didn't need to think about anything besides that.

Of course, the presumed target of her ire seemed to have the same idea as she was attacked from behind.

The expression on Macaron's face rapidly shifted. In an instant, her face contorted in rage and anger as she leapt out of the way. It only worsened as the faux-werewolf seemed to try to explain her actions.

Just as quickly as her anger appeared, it vanished and gave way to a friendly smile--one that was seconds away from laughter and campfire songs. One that was filled with nods and affirmation as she chanted cogito ergo sum.

"Cool cool. I'm cool. I'm cool. Cool."

The smile she had shifted to complete neutrality.

She wasn't cool at all.

In a flash of unemoted rage unbefitting for a mage--one who typically used Crafts to solve problems, her hand erupted from her jacket pocket with a purple can. It hurtled towards the shapeshifter's face with all the strength one acting without magic could muster--a tit-for-tat act of violence that the utterly deranged considered conversation. More importantly was the can of soda:

Value Purple Soda? What kind of brand was that? One that tasted like purple instead of grape, that's what it was. It wasn't even cold--lord knows how long it was in her jacket pocket.
In SPIRITUM 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Justice


For better or worse, the situation in Dunbarton seemed to be calm. That either meant things were fine or extremely bad. A small part of Justice wished for the chaos. It would have made it easier to sneak in, if anything else. But if nothing else, she'd get her wish of a brief moment of brevity and normalcy. At least until she did something absurd like stick her face in front of a barrel again.

Then Kalina was the first to speak to the border guards. The mere concept of which sent shivers down Justice's spine. Thankfully, Kalina kept it short, sweet, and honest. That was lucky. Though her habit to carry her gun on her was bit of a bother.

Justice was thankful Kalina didn't try to lie her way out. Unlike Justice who lied as easily as she breathed, Kalina fundamentally couldn't word good enough to support any sort of lie. Of course, that didn't mean Justice was about to concoct some elaborate ruse on the fly. She might have done that if she were alone. Unfortunately, her friend group wasn't exactly the best at subterfuge. Gerard would be off snickering, Kalina would probably be sweating like a human faucet--or perhaps a fountain statuette, it was a complete wildcard what Silje would follow up with, and Morden would probably just stand there bizarrely brick-faced. At least Val would be there to not shit things up.

"Surplus was the cheapest way to road trip, turns out." Justice said as she handed Kalina--and by extension, the city guard--their papers. "But with how our trip's been going? Had to ditch the clothes thanks to an infested motel. Now I'm wearing a gift shop. Should have sprung for an actual RV."

In all honesty, the sooner they got out of this line up, the better. Bad things usually happened in line ups.
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