Strange Rodent

Hikari Academy

Ceiran Strivelyn

He stepped into the cafeteria, and almost immediately regretted it. He hadn't packed himself any food, so he had to wait in line. Lines are tedious. The only reason he tolerated it was the promise of the essential food. The line moved forward more slowly than he digested the meagre food he'd eaten that day. As he neared the food he considered he'd grab. Something cheap, but filling. Nothing special, but lots of it. Too much for any normal human, but quite enough for the demon and himself. When it came time for him to get food, he did it quickly, spied a table, and rushed to it. Halfway there, a red, ferocious pain grew from his chest towards his arms, growing larger and less bearable with every beat of his heart. Along with the pain was a familiar, but currently unwelcome sensation. He felt as if he occupied every place in the room for a brief moment, and if his arteries were fire, then his veins were power.

The pain hadn't overwhelmed him quite yet, though. He took a moment to compose himself, and redoubled toward a mostly empty table, the pain growing larger as he grew nearer. He almost runs into a centaur on the way, only just gathering enough reaction time to throw himself out of the way and throw a brief "Sorry about that!". He's only two steps away from the table now, and he feels his forefinger quivering.

He runs the last two steps, and begins to eat with all the enthusiasm of... well.. a demon. It tasted much worse than he was used to. The meat was dry, the vegetables were undercooked, and the spaghetti was essentially mush for how overcooked it was. He was grateful he had food, but made a mental note to make his own from now on. That way he'd never have to wait in a line. Bonus.

He'd made an effort to eat politely, but the pain had been quite severe, and he was slowly losing control of how much he was Twitching. As a result, he had quite a bit of cleaning up to do. It doesn't take long, and by the end, the pain had retreated to his torso. It'd be gone totally soon.

He takes a moment to see who he'd sat next to. It was that Arachne girl from potions. She was talking to Tholl. He hoped she didn't notice him, although that was an unrealistic hope. He'd made such a racket that some particularly keen people the next row up were craning their necks to see what was going on. He gives an apologetic smile "I was... hungry.". He certainly wasn't wasn't lying...

@Ryonara @Lonewolf685

Weird Wilting Wills

@Genni

You'd be taking the roles of humans

The flames are kind of like souls, residing in every human and granting them a unique ability. Reading back through it I didn't quite make this clear enough, though. I should fix that

Jacques Vs Izayoi (Card Battle)

@Dynamo Frokane

For sure! New post's up, by the way. Took me long enough :/

Jacques Vs Izayoi (Card Battle)

Jacques breathes a sigh of relief when the lizard shrivels on contact with his blade. He couldn't breathe easy quite yet, though. There were still two enemy support creatures on the field, and only one of them was covered. The man wolf must be fast, it intercepted a sword stroke with its body.

Although he was still at a life, positioning, and numbers disadvantage, he had an idea. It involved... lots of damage.

The only complication was this Man-Wolf. He darts around it, exposing Izayoi. He then summons a Sturdy Sentry between himself and the wolf. He orders it to defend him from the Man-Wolf, and then orders the Frontline Centurion to attack the Patrol Hound. Using his positioning, he carves a deadly arc through the air with an Arcane Longsword, more intending to make Izayoi recoil than to actually deal damage.

Attempting to use the time he gets from the recoil, Jacques summons his prize card, the Quartermaster on the opposite side of Izayoi to him. "Attack him from behind, and grant me the Sword Breaker and two Arcane Longswords!" He orders. He felt the cards return to him, ready for immediate use, if he so wished.

He didn't wish, however. He had a much better idea in mind. The Battle Halberd materialises. Taking it in both hands, Jacques swings the most buffed attack he can. He had the strength of both the Quartermaster and the Wily Blacksmith boosting the already powerful slash of the Battle Halberd, directing the slash toward Izayoi's torso.

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0. Jacques sidestepps around the Man-Wolf. (no card used, so I listed it as 0)
1. Jacques summons a Sturdy Sentry between himself and the Man-Wolf, ordering it to defend him against the Man Wolf, and orders the Frontline Centurion to attack the Patrol Hound.
2. Jacques attacks Izayoi with an Arcane Longsword. (Gaining extra damage from the Wily Blacksmith)
3. Jacques summons the Quartermaster on the other side of Izayoi, recovering the Sword Breaker, and two Arcane Longswords. The Quartermaster is ordered to attack Izayoi.
4. Jacques slashes at Izayoi with a Battle Halberd. (Gaining extra damage from the Wily Blacksmith, due to using the edge, and the Quartermaster with his ETB conditional effect.)

Jacques Vs Izayoi (Card Battle)

Yup, of course. I must be blind or something

Weird Wilting Wills

Bumping my own posts feels awkward...

The Rhythm of the Night

Glenn Strivelyn

Glenn was sitting on the bed in his studio apartment, glaring at what he'd been sculpting. It was wrought of clay, with wings. Apart from that, it was rather grotesque. Its chest appeared to be caved in, revealing a ribcage made of shattered teeth. Its head was shaped like a goblet, with clumps of felt hair hanging from the scalp. Its face was not something you could ever describe as human. Surrounding it were small copies of it, made of visible distortion. They each made a small noise, swelling to create the beat he was hearing.

After glaring at it a little longer he gives it a solid punch, fist sinking deep into its curled leg. Far from ruining it, it seemed to make it more grotesque. He wipes the clay stuck on his hand onto his pants, grabs a few ziplock bags with weed in, and heads to the pub. He was hoping he'd run into someone he knows, or some wine.

He walks across the slightly trashy garden. He thinks the trashiness gives it charm. There's one plant that looks as if its weeping when it rains. He'd need to sculpt it one day. Glenn pushes open the unremarkable door, to find the space inside rather empty. The rush would start soon, then.

He walks over to the bar. Jennie's bartending tonight, and Manny's sipping one of those expensive cycling beers they have here. Microbreweries, they call them. Glenn reckoned it was bullshit. He sat on a bar stool, and decided he'd buy himself some wine.

He slid some money across the counter, "I'll take a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, if you have one. One of my sculptures sold, so I'm treating myself tonight. How're you two doing?". The fact that he didn't really stop talking signaled that he was in a good mood tonight.

The Unfortunate Thirteen

3

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All 3 could perceive were the torrential thoughts and the dark clouds in his vision. He tried to stand, but fell onto his hands and knees instead. The ground was smooth, but hard. He couldn't see what it was, but it felt like linoleum. He rocks back onto his knees and clutches at his head, attempting to steady himself. The black spots slowly retreat from his vision and back into his brain. As his vision returns, he finds he cant remember much. Not even his name. Fuck. No. He must remember something. He lets out a terrified scream, and shakes his head violently. His thoughts are scouring his brain, but the more he looks, the less he finds. His bony fingers are fervently tugging at his hair, hoping the pain will bring something back. Nothing. Nothing... until a voice cuts through his consciousness.

"Did you work for Dark Anarchy?"

He looks for the source of the voice, and finds himself face to barrel with a gun. He doesn't care what she said, she's holding a gun, and it's pointed at him. The barrel is hollow. As hollow as his mind. He glances around. He seems to be in a laboratory of sorts. There are a few others standing around, but none of this matters. He falls back, his head colliding with the pod he'd just come out of with a meaty thud.

What was it the lady with the gun had said? Dark Anarchy? He figured he was going to die anyway, better to die learning something than to not.

He speaks slowly, as if trying to remember the right words, "Who.... who the fuck are the Dark Anarchy?"

Hikari Academy

Ceiran Strivelyn

From the back of the classroom, Ceiran watched. No-one seemed to pay him any mind, which was brilliant. He could work in peace.

He pulled a textbook out of his bag. He'd blotted out the cover in black marker, and labeled it using masking tape. It said 'Potions' on the tape. He didn't know too much about potions, except that they're something he will be able to learn. No spells required. He read the primer, and decided that familiarising himself with the equipment before trying to brew anything was a good idea. It was a right pain, though. He'd never even heard of these implements before now. After learning what the pieces of equipment do, he decided he'd try to remove the salt from some saltwater. He heats it over a flame, allows the vapour to condense, and collects the drops, but it wasn't any less salty. In fact, it seemed more so. He wrote what he did down. It may come in handy later.

Slightly disappointed in himself, he readies the equipment to try again, but Miss Mako calls the end of class before he has a chance. He cleans his work area, and leaves the classroom. He doesn't have anyone to walk with, but the hallways are packed anyway, so he just makes his way to the cafeteria. He stares around, rather wide-eyed. He isn't used to the amount of people here. Face after face, swimming through the magically shifting air to his eyes. He puts his head down, and doubles down on his attempt to reach the cafeteria in in the hopes of finding an empty table to sit at. He doesn't register that he's basically pushing people out of the way. Even if he did he probably wouldn't care. He must get food and be alone, or he might... twitch.

The Unfortunate Thirteen

3

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3

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Character Summary

Character Number: 3
Actual Name: Thom Kobyla
Age: 17
Birthday: 5/3/2317
Gender: Male
Powers: Control Water
Specialty:Survivalist

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Appearance

Height: 5' 7'
Weight: 120
Build: Lanky around the limbs, and rectangular around the torso.
Eyes: Blue flecked with yellow
Hair: Black
Skin Tone: A pale pallor
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: A tattoo of The Darksign on his right pec. Also the largish 3 on his right wrist.
Personal Style: Dark clothing. Sturdy boots. He prefers to wear loose fitting trousers, with a shirt that fits properly. If it's cold he'll don a large bolt of woolen fabric, held with a pentacular brooch.

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Psychology

Curious * Zealous * Logical * Cruel * Loyal * Disillusioned

Sexuality: Straight
Relationship Status: Very single
Personality: 3 is a logophile. If there ever was a knowledge hoarder, it is 3. This is one of the reasons he learned survival techniques. There was so much to learn, and he loved it. He will go out of his way to learn new things. He might even kill some people for it. They don't care when they're dead. He has a bit of a cruel streak, finding pleasure in watching those he hates suffer.

On the flip side, if he's close to you he will do almost anything to make you happy. Within reason, of course. Sometimes this borders on scary. He's also rather disillusioned. He knows there is no space for optimism. He reckons you have to be realistic. As a terrible compliment to this, he's zealous. He will try to force you to do something his way if he cares about you, and thinks it will benefit. He has a bit of a competitive streak in him, and will always try harder if there is someone doing better than he is.

Habits: Rubbing eyes, scratching sides, overthinking
Hobbies: Camping, Photography, Poetry, and Parkour (did it in a gym)
Fears:

• Loneliness
• Lack of Control
• Feebleness

Likes:

• Music (Raw stuff)
• A nice, hot meal
• Knowledge
• Walking
• Thinking/Discussing thoughts
• Knives
• Competition/Games

Dislikes:

• Irrationality
• Dishonesty
• Naivety
• Self-Righteousness
• Spite
• Bad smells (he has a particularly sensitive nose)
• Being bored

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Cards On The Table

General Skills:

• Problem solving
• Parkour
• Survivalism
• Torture (yes, torture)
• Perception (from photography. He's used to finding good shots with his eyes first)
• Bow-making and fletching (From survival, but he spent a larger amount of time on this)
• Hunting

Combat Skills:

• Basic water manipulation
• Fast (from Parkour)
• Marksmanship (bow)

Possessions:

• Survival Knife
• Empty notebook
• Pen
• Set of steel dice
• A survival handbook
• Water bottle
• Bow
• 12 arrows
• Rope
• A bolt of heavy wool, and a pentacular brooch to bind it.
• The legendary backpack
• Towel

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Extras

Character Quote: "You don't fail if you learn something" "You're doing it wrong."
Theme Song: Parting of the Sensory by Modest Mouse.
Anything Else: Ender's Game. I'm more of a fantasy guy, to be honest. Didn't know where to find photogenic GIFs.

_{*By submitting this CS in its completion I am stating I have read all the rules for this Rp and am agreeing to follow them to the fullest with respect and courtesy. I acknowledge that I can and will be removed from the RP without warning if I break a rule or cause problems with my fellow Rpers or the GM.}