Vertigo

Epyllion: Beyond Moonlight's Reach

Ah, yeah, am here! Gonna get a quick post up tomorrow.

Expedition to Isekai

ZA DANKU

DUNCAN STEWART

"The Dunk"

Identity:

The Dunk. Everyone in a small town like Kuroshio knows of the Dunk; how could they not? He's one of the few foreigners to walk its cramped streets, wide-shouldered and a head taller than anyone else. He plays basketball, because of course he does - with a back like his, he was practically born to do it! Now if only he would stop smoking. That stuff kills you, and it's illegal for a high schooler to boot. He's going to ruin his chances of a sports scholarship that way, and that'd be a shame; it's practically guaranteed he qualifies for one otherwise.

Known for his avid love of parties and bending the rules, Duncan embodies many admittedly unwanted traits for a Japanese high schooler. At least in the eyes of the adults; his peers, at least the ones he calls friends, tend to admire him for those very traits, calling him brave. He's loud, boisterous and usually found at the center of attention - seemingly his favourite place to be, if he can help it. He's outgoing and sociable with a tendency for pranks, and even his friends admit he can be a bit 'too much' at times; so focused on having fun that he forgets the feelings of others in the process. "He means well, though," his friends would quickly add if asked, "He just needs a slap back to reality sometimes."

For a basketball junkie, he talks surprisingly little about the sport - and even less about his home life. Apparently he moved to the city due to his mother's work, but rumour has it she passed away a while ago. No one knows what his father does. Come to think of it, Duncan has never mentioned his father. But he must be rich; Duncan's always dressed so well, and even treats his teammates to food on the regular. Who knows, maybe he is modest and just doesn't want to brag about his family's income!

Ha. That'd be a first.

Peculiarity:

🏀 The most outwardly peculiar thing about Duncan is his size, or rather, his height. At 6'7'', he stands heads above his Japanese classmates, and it's earned him a plethora of nicknames, stares and whispers over the years. Needless to say, it's made blending in impossible. Most everyone in Kuroshio has at least heard of him in passing; the foreign giant, always smoking in the streets.

🏀 Local basketball ace; the source of his nickname.

🏀 His mother was Japanese.

🏀 Smoker. Usually turns to the cig when he's nervous or stressed out in particular. Recently, that seems to be often.

🏀 Is hellbent on being chosen for the New Zealand trip. That alone surprises no one, considering how vocal he's been about hating the small town he's stuck in, but recently it's turned into a near obsession for him - which has raised more than a couple of brows. He's even said, though apparently in jest, that if he isn't chosen, he's gonna beat the spot outta whatever sorry sod stole it.

Awakened: 100

Mind [10] | Body [70] | Spirit [20]

Facsimile:

N/A

Expedition to Isekai

𝐃𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐭

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"Ready to lose? Alright. On three, rock, paper--- the fuck?!"

One moment Duncan was about to drop a figurative rock on Maki and saddle her with getting a hold of alcohol this weekend, the next he was stumbling out of a bus wreck with a busted lip and the worst headache in his life. He was only vaguely aware of what was happening around him, of students pouring past and Daisuke shoving bags into his arms. Everything reeked of gasoline, and his ears rung so loud he couldn't hear a word - but he knew there was shouting. There was always shouting at accident sites, he'd seen enough videos to know.

Various bags flung over his shoulders, stuffed under his arms and even haphazardly balanced on his head, Duncan stepped out into the open summer air, and realized they weren't in Kuroshio anymore.

"Dude," he whispered to Daisuke, or hoped he did. Duncan still couldn't hear his own voice, and as he leaned one shoulder into his cheek to wipe away sweat, the fabric came back red. Was his ear bleeding?! Holy shit, that couldn't be good, right? Man...

By the time they had settled down into a clearing and partook in the collective activity of watching their bus catch on fire (but not explode, too bad) the incessant ringing in Duncan's ears had started to gradually quiet into a buzz. He still felt lightheaded though, and could swear he swerved to the left when he walked, like his dad's old car. That one had exploded.

As his hearing slowly returned, it turned out Duncan hadn't missed much during his bout of deafness. No one around them had any idea what to do, and coming up with a plan of action had taken second seat to arguing and... poetry? At least the class prez was trying, sort of, but tuning the student council members out had become so second nature to Duncan that he didn't catch half of it. From what he gathered though, his grand plan was basically to... wait. Great. Duncan was more and more convinced the dude would have been better off shooting hoops with the rest of the team.

Well, whatever. He, for one, was definitely not gonna just wait around for rescue. Besides, if they'd really gone through a portal, this was basically once in a lifetime experience. The kind of shit you could recount at parties years later and never fail to make an impression.

"Oi, Daisuke, Yuki," he called out, louder this time, as he looked over the sea of heads to find the two. "We're inside a portal, dude. Inside a portal, can you believe it? Bro. We might get to find out if the monsters are real. My old man's convinced they're fake news. Altered footage, you know? But if they ain't... Maki and I had a bet, she thinks she could take one on. I told her I might, but she's like half the size of a carrot, how's she gonna-- huh? Wait... speaking of, where is she?"

Duncan looked around for a tiny brunette dot of a head somewhere among the students. He didn't have to look long; there she was now, dashing into the bushes, launching herself into the air to drop kick a hulking monster.

... Wait, she what.

Duncan spun around so fast he nearly fell over from another bout of vertigo. Either he hit his head real bad, or there were some kind of wolfbear hybrids with an unacceptable amount of eyes running straight at them. Holy. Shit.

Quickly, Duncan took mental inventory of what he had. Shoes, sure, bottle of water, yeah, but that wasn't-- wait. He dropped his bag and squatted down after it, fumbling with the zipper with fingers that were way too big and way too shaky for the job. "Come on, come on..."

Duncan rummaged through the bag and pulled out a basketball with both hands, taking a few steps back as he straightened back up. Good enough, right? He'd gotten hit in the face with these suckers so many times before, and they freaking hurt. Here's hoping they hurt wolfbears just as much.

"Pass!" Duncan shouted as he twisted his body and pulled backwards, throwing the ball towards the monster's head with a motion that went against everything he'd learned at basketball practice. But then, new world, new rules.

"Come on, guys!" he shouted at everyone within earshot, so loud he hoped it would drown out his heartbeat. It was beating in his throat so vehemently he was afraid others might hear it too. He picked up his bag, ready to swing if he had to. "There's like a shitton of us, stop standing around and do somethin'!"

Like run. Honestly, running worked. Duncan really wanted to run, but if he was the first to do it, others might think he was a coward or something, and that'd be worse than getting bitten by a bear. Probably.

Goddamn, he needed a cig right about now.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

𝔏𝔢𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔯 𝔊𝔲ð𝔪𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔰𝔰𝔬𝔫

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With the festivities over, the guests were ushered into rooms for a good night's rest - and an early awakening, Leifur hoped. He'd be up before dawn as usual, and if the others weren't able to do the same, he'd head out without them. In fact, he would've preferred to head out without a certain someone - who, as fate would have it, was sorted into the same room as him. No doubt as punishment for all the bad deeds Leifur had committed over the years. Karma did tend to be a bitch.

The rooms were simple but fancy, the bedding alone worth far more than it had any right to be. But then, if the king truly had ten million gil to offer away so easily, Leifur supposed a few beds wouldn't be what drove him to bankruptcy. A waste all the same; he would've been fine sleeping on the floor if necessary.

The most beautiful sight in the room awaited him at the foot of one bed, resting against its frame. The familiar weight of Eldgos in his hands felt like home, and Leifur still couldn't believe he'd agreed to give the weapon up in the first place. Now, as he emptied his pockets from leftover fruit and bread he'd scavenged from the banquet, he kept the gunblade tucked near like a beloved child.

As Leifur glanced out the window into an unfamiliar scenery, he suddenly noticed the silence. Zeidgram had yet to utter a word, not even to the woman that shared the room with them. Leifur glanced her way. She seemed reasonable enough, from what little he'd gathered. She'd spent most of the dinner silent, and seemed to share his disdain for the third person in the room. So, yes, reasonable enough.

Unfortunately, as soon as Leifur had noticed the silence, it was shattered by a literal bang. Leifur was up, gunblade held at ready even before he could hear a thump from the hallway. The clown said something, probably, but his words were an insignificant buzz. He didn't matter - the ones who entered the room with a violent shove did. Soldiers, trained, familiar.

Valheimian.

"So they saved us the trouble..."

The room was small, cramped, and already spells were being flung. Guns were pointed at them from the narrow doorway, but Leifur didn't wait to be aimed at. He dashed forth, using the man Zeidgram had stunned as cover. With a thrust, he drove his gunblade right through the man's unmoving chest, the barrel of the gun emerging from his back, and pulled the trigger. Another gunman, who'd been standing behind the first, was shot at point blank range and crumpled to the ground. The impaled one didn't, still being held in place by the blade that claimed him. Leifur remained behind his makeshift shield as his sensitive ears took in the sounds of fighting from all around them. They weren't the only ones ambushed in the night. This was a bloodbath.

Persona themed 5e game

Hi, hello, hell yes

Epyllion: Beyond Moonlight's Reach

Quick reply, gonna let others have a go for now!

Epyllion: Beyond Moonlight's Reach

𝐹𝑒𝓁𝓁𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔

__________________________________________________

Fellwing was already looking to Echo expectantly, hoping for her magic to transport them back to the surface as soon as possible, when Skobeloff suggested they stop by the Stronghold. His reasoning was solid, she admitted; he wanted reinforcements for their cause. But Fellwing bit her lip and shook her head. "I don't know if we have the time, Skobe. Or whether we want to endanger them any further; they must've already been through a lot, if they've been stuck here for so long."

She looked to Kyte. "It's best you stay behind as well, lest Stargaze's work go to waste." Was she rightfully concerned or just selfish, so taken by her newfound sense of purpose that she thought they'd be fine on their own, Fellwing wasn't sure. Either way--

"Echo, please, if you would."

Age of Darkness: Despair of the Golden Goddess (LoZ RP)

Ｎａｄｉｊａｈ　

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If Nadijah had learnt anything during her travels so far, it was that she hated rain.

Her mother would have beaten her half to death if she'd heard her say that, Nadijah knew. Back home, water was a precious resource, and the few times rain blessed their valley, it was to be welcomed with open arms and a plethora of buckets.

But Nadijah wasn't home, her mother wasn't here, and she hated rain.

Every now and again she'd heard a rumble and thought it thunder. Thunderstorms were an even rarer sight in the valley, but supposedly common enough elsewhere - and truth be told, she would've loved to see a lightning or two. The night was dark, cold, and, worst of all, boring. A cucco electrocuted by lightning would have at least been funny. Probably delicious, too.

Alas, she'd found out by now that the rumbling wasn't thunder; it was her stomach. Come to think of it, it must have been a full day since she'd last eaten. She hadn't run into game on her way up the mountain, only monsters - and they weren't exactly appetizing, all bone and saggy skin.

Nadijah shifted, uncomfortable. The rain was but a drizzle, but it'd had plenty of time to make its way through the fabric of her cloak and reach skin. Worse; she'd chosen a high vantage point - as one should on enemy soil - and the rain had made the roof slippery and difficult to balance on. Wind tugged at her clothes, threatening to whisk her off the side of the building the second she shifted her center of balance. Not that she intended to. She'd climbed things higher than mere roofs ever since she could walk, and was a warrior of her people besides. No wind or rain could distract her from her mission to--

Wait... was that... food?

Nadijah peered into the darkness that stretched out below her. Considering she was on the lookout for other living souls specifically, she'd seen staggeringly few in the night so far. There were two now, barely illuminated by a torch. And they talked about food.

Curious, hungry, Nadijah's gaze followed a bearded man carrying food past the roof she hid on. And once he disappeared from sight, she hurried to follow - with no mind paid to the slippery footing. Needless to say, with a shriek and a crash, she slid off the roof and landed into barrels, startling a nearby cucco into a mad clucking fit.

"Oww, goddess damnit!"

Sleepless Nights\\ Iron Cages

𝔼𝕞𝕞𝕒 𝔹𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕩

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There was an almost embarrassing amount of things Emma wasn't good at. Cooking, dusting, reaching things on the highest shelf and oh, dear god, taking quick showers. They had seemed completely alien a concept, before she left behind her life in the inner districts.

What Emma was extremely good at however, was waiting. She'd perfected the craft years ago, hiding in her bed for hours on end, waiting for artificial suns to vanquish the monsters that kept her awake. As such, Mel's Infamous Finger of Halting - a name Emma had coined herself - had never deterred her. If anything, she found waiting in Mel's office soothing.

As the others started to ask questions, Emma stayed quiet and waited some more. It was only after everyone'd had their turn that Emma raised her hand. Her father had always emphasized how important it was to do so before speaking up.

Her father had also said there were no stupid questions.

"Excuse me, but--" she glanced at Yasu, then back to Mel. "What does she mean by... those kinds of books?"

Mel's clap came at an arguably opportune time.

-

Though Emma was no longer a stranger to the 10th district, it still housed many a place that left her speechless. Littown, she realized as they approached, was one of them. The irony of its name was not lost on her. But then, nothing was truly lit out here in the outer districts, unlike back home.

Emma preferred it here. She needed no radio to keep her company; as she peered out the van's window, she could see all her friends running alongside it, racing, prancing, dancing in the dark. They jumped over trashcans, climbed up walls, disappeared from sight altogether in the darkest, most narrow corners, only to emerge time and time again.

Their stop was abrupt and long overdue, followed immediately after by Honest storming out of the van and into the building that awaited them. Emma followed suit, though with considerably less hurry. She rose carefully, straightened the hem of her skirt, and stepped out with parasol in hand. It wasn't open; there was no light she needed to be protected from.

She stepped over the broken door almost apologetically and looked around, made note of the doors and the stairs. There was a skip to her step the further in she went, and when she turned around to address the others, she did so with a twirl of her parasol. "Now, if I were a book of indescribable value, where might I hide?" She stood a moment, smiling, then gestured at the air - as if one could see the unnerving notes of the accordion floating there. "Perhaps we should find and ask the nice musician behind this piece."

Epyllion: Beyond Moonlight's Reach

Sorry to double post, but! From what Fellwing saw in her vision's bird-eye view, would going to the stronghold be a quick trip or a sizeable detour (or something in between)?