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Post by raventhefree on Mar 23, 2018 14:20:14 GMT
Presenting to you Anjelica, the... squid?Name: Anjelica Race: Transposit (Choir Variety) -----Move: Echoed Voice -----Ability: Liquid Voice -----Capability: Gilled Summoning Item: A binder of sheet music for voice and/or harp. Usurped Legendary: Manaphy RP Sample: Air.
Anjelica gasped it in, surprised. She was breathing air? She was dead, certainly then, back in her old body and ascended into the heavens or fallen into the hells for what she did. That was a suitable punishment, she thought. At least she could see Christof and punish him for his stupidity.
Opening her eyes, she looked around. There certainly was enough black in… well, wherever she was for it to be hell. Less fire than she imagined, admittedly, but maybe that was in another area. She didn’t ever pay much attention when her boring religious studies tutor was around, and besides of which, that was in her old life before she fell into the ocean.
When she turned to stand, an unsettling splat was emitted from where she had put her hand down. Her long, right-hand tentacle was pushed against the ground, suction cups gripping the floor.
“Not dead?” she questioned aloud as she tilted back, trying to find purchase with the writhing mass of tentacles attached to her waist. Finally, she managed to push herself upright, trying to relearn to walk with six of her ten tentacles. She was wearing some sort of armor, perhaps pulled off of one of the Guardians, since she had never owned armor, and Naiad had ended up with her as well. Maybe Artur had brought her to shore after she lost consciousness?
He wasn’t here now, though, and she was left puzzling out the last of her memories. They had succeeded in overthrowing Manaphy, leaving the other Transposits freed from their old roles serving her. Anjelica racked her brain. Hadn’t Manaphy tried to kill her? Hadn’t she been Heart Swapped back into her old body, stripping her of life?
Something must have happened. That foreign power she had sensed before she passed out was still inside her, warm in her belly. Could it be that she stole some of Manaphy’s power, allowing herself to survive the attack? Was that even possible? She would have to find out.
But first, she would need to learn how to walk again.
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Spaaaace
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Oct 25, 2023 14:56:46 GMT
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Post by Bowyer on Mar 24, 2018 6:06:30 GMT
reporting for duty Iwakashi, Earthenborn GeneralRace:Earthenborn Move:Head Smash Ability: Heat Proof Capability:Tremorsense Summoning Item:Crystalline Fruit Legendary Usurped: Virizion
RP Sample:
The Price of Victory
The armies were arrayed in battle formation. Tension hung upon the quiet air, as though saving up to house the clamour that would soon spill forth. Iwakashi stood upon a small ridge, eager for the battle to start. Daichi’s signal to charge was delayed already and he was getting impatient. The silence wasn’t helping.
He’s jostled from his surveillance by a cough, almost deafening in the silence. He turns surprisingly quickly, half thinking it must be a runner with the signal but no. It was only his second, a human. And even Kashi could see that something was on the boy’s mind. “What is it? Has he decided to wait longer?”
To his credit, the man didn’t tremble under Kashi’s gaze. It still took him a moment to find his breath but eventually the words tumbled out. “Do you think the battle will go well sir?” An almost expectant hope was on the young man’s face.
“Yes.” Of course, the short answer didn’t satisfy the lad. Kashi sighed as he rumbled along, “The Avians have a mobility advantage. However, that is their only advantage. We have the edge in numbers and advantage in Typing.” The hint of a smile plays across his face, “And they don’t have anyone to match Daichi or myself. They’ll put up a fierce fight, but ultimately they will fail.”
The young man relaxes some but still stands by. The time drags on but the signal still doesn’t appear. Why can’t these ‘nobles’ speak their minds. Able to stand it no longer, “What is bothering you!” The words come out harsher than he intended but the lad was just being so irritating.
The human hesitates once more before he speaks up, “Sir. I’m frightened.” It wasn’t an admission of cowardice, merely a fact. “I’ll fight for the cause but...I don’t want to fall on some field far from home.”
Kashi had to ponder for a moment. The fact that humans didn’t always commit to their tasks was always a surprise for him. It was no surprise since the man was still green by his standards, hardly out here for a week. Assigned as a way to bring glory to his family.
“If you stay by me, no harm shall come to you,” Kashi rumbles, “You’ll return home again.”
His second starts to cry out in thanks but is drowned out as the signal finally bursts out across the field. The moment is lost as Kashi surges forward with all the others.
The battle was long but decisive. The Avian army shattered. Kashi surveyed the carnage with a few of his soldiers. It was a solemn procession but a necessary one. Their own loses had to be accounted for. A familiar figure lay on the ground. His second, broken and bloodied. Kashi’s word hadn’t been enough to protect him.
Kashi stops and points out to the body. “Two of you are on leave. You will escort his body home.” His bond was broken….but he could still do something about it.
Two of his soldiers hurried to comply, “We’ll be sure that Krimal’s parents can put him through the rites.”
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Apr 28, 2019 14:49:14 GMT
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Post by Kadeem on Mar 24, 2018 6:17:06 GMT
SilverbloodBasic Character CrunchClasses: Berserker/Glamour Weaver/Commander (Fairy Ace-to-be) Silk Glove - Small Fine Melee Arcane Weapon: Secret Force, Magic Burst Legendary: Cresselia Summoning Harp: A Celtic harp made of ashwood with strings made of silver. Advanced Character CrunchJioni Nafasi Waylos (Lycan) - Faerie half-breed Move: Crunch Ability: Pack Hunt Capability: Tracker His ears were ringing.
The world was muffled, sound was hard to perceive and all he could hear was that damned ringing. He rose, unsteady as he stumbled from side to side. His vision was blurry too.
What in the hell had happened?
It took him some time to get his bearings and regain his senses, he remembered where he was. He was in the Castle Dreadmarsh, where he had painstakingly tracked the moon goddess after the last seventeen moons. He had learned that on her weakest night she hid in a sacred location every moon to rest, one place in every region. She rotated from place to place, and it had been a simple process of elimination as he determined or learned where she had last been. After tracking her movements carefully he had been ready for her in this final destination.
Had he not been successful? The ritual should have worked, he had done everything right. He looked himself over, making sure nothing was amiss. He traced the pads of his hands across the armor he wore, beautifully crafted and designed by his father; he particularly loved how the silver designs stood out against the black metal. At the end of his arm he still wore the silk glove that covered his hand but not fingers. He reached around to his back for his harp, taking it off and bringing it in front of him for his own inspection. The gray wood has a mild red tint to it. He smiled. Every time he defeated a foe, he bathed his harp in their blood to stain it redder and redder still. It was due for another coat.
His body and armament were in order, so he checked his magicks. He felt his body shift until he was in his smaller form, but again nothing felt off. Returning to his wolf form a thought occurred to him. It should be a similar process, just a different scope.
He felt the divine energy begin to flow within and around him, shifting his form and very nature drastically as the power he had sought took hold of him. In a flash of light he was no longer himself, and yet still he was. His body was not any he had had before, he was now in the form of the moon goddess Cresselia. He was overjoyed, but something felt off. He didn't feel as powerful as he should have. He didn't feel the raw power he had faced off against before he had awoken. He reassumed his natural form, maybe some of his pack could help him understand what had happened.
Exiting the room he had locked himself in, he searched for his compatriots.
They were nowhere to be found, and an eerie silence had taken over the castle. Hadn't there been a large commotion as he ascended?
He walked further still, searching every part of the area he had traveled through to get where he was.
Eventually, he found them.
Nine bodies lay dead on the floor, six of them the trusted he had brought to guard him and the other three some race he could not identify. Their bodies were burned beyond recognition, but he didn't care about that. What he cared about was his six friends, dead to protect he who should have protected them. How long had he been here? With them slaughtered and him disappearing, the packs would have erupted into chaos at the absence of leadership.
Who would have done this? Who could have found them out? Many among the other races would have tried to stop them, but he had been careful to hide their plans, what had gone so wrong?
To think, he had chosen a new name for the Waylos to worship him as. A new name for the new moon god. No, he would not be Mehnot yet. Not until he had regained his strength and was a true god worthy of their submission.
He had to rebuild. He could seek out his father, show him he had lived...but could he show his face to any wolf after he'd failed so thoroughly? Maybe, he was unsure. He could also seek out his mother. He had never met her and all he knew of her were the few things his father spoke of, in particular how while she carried him she would always refer to him as "her little fáel". She and the Fae could be outside allies, no one would look for him there and it would allow him to investigate what had gone wrong. He would have to find them first, but he knew now that the wolves alone were not enough. He needed to bring much more than his own people to heel. It would do him well to also to tame some of the beasts that lived alongside them, and strengthen his own armory and body. Yes, that was the way to go. He would name each Pokémon he kept after the six who had fallen for him.
As he looked at their bodies again, a growl rose unbidden from his gut and forced its way out of his mouth. Anger, shame, loss, many emotions roiled within him. Try as he might, he could no better hold them than he could dam against a storm. For the first time since he rose words came out of his mouth in the form of a howl of anguish and fury, but one that also carried the promise of retribution:
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
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Post by snark on Mar 24, 2018 15:31:26 GMT
Presenting Saru Broken-Eyes, disgraced warlord of the mountain clans. Race: Demonspawn Capability - Aura Reader Ability - Bulletproof Move - Bulldoze Usurped Legendary - Zapdos RP Sample: Thunder rolled. The beating of the drums followed like an echo, signaling doom to the soft city-dwellers below. Soon the clans would spill out onto the plains, pillaging all in their path. It had happened before. It would happen again. There was no-one in the lowlands who could stand against them.
And yet.
Four stood outside her tent, barring her path. Not something that would give her pause, ordinarily. She’d faced far worse odds, and emerged victorious. But this was different. She knew these four; she’d broken bread with them, slept beside them, stood back-to-back on the battlefield alongside them. Shamil the Archer, who could put a man’s eye out from a hundred paces while riding at a gallop. Sezim, son of Mamud, the chief’s heir. Aruzhan Fireyes, her sister-in-battle if not in blood, said to be the finest rider of their generation. Tamil Fair-Hand, the shaman. They were clan, they were all but kin, and she would not in a hundred years have dreamed that they’d stand against her like this.
And yet here they were. Hands gripped weapons. She could see grim intent written on them, plain as day to her eyes.
“We’re finished, Saru,” said Shamil. He’d ridden beside her on her very first raid, taught her how to handle a bow. “What you’re doing here, what you’ve done… it’s is too much. You went too far.”
“What, this?” she said. (She ignored the other half of what he said.)“I’ve done nothing our fathers have not done, and their fathers, and theirs. I’ve done nothing you haven’t done. We’ve always fought. This is our way.”
“No,” said Sezim quietly. There’d been talk of betrothing the two of them lately; the clan’s finest warrior and its future chief, united. “Not like this. Raiding, yes. This is different. You make war like they do. You don’t just fight, you conquer.”
“There’s no sport in it anymore,” put in Aruzhan, before she could recover from that. “The clan is rich. We don’t need anything from them. Why keep going?”
“Because…” Saru trailed off. There was a reason, she knew was. She just didn’t want to think it. Because as long as we fight, I have a place. As long as we fight, you need me. As thoughts went, it was an ugly one.
“Fine,” she said, admitting defeat. “You don’t want to do this anymore. I can lead the clans in battle without you. Step aside and let me.”
Silence, for a moment, and then Tamil said, “No.” His voice was flat with loathing.
She knew why as soon as she spoke. Had known as soon as she left her tent and saw them standing here, really. Still, she had to ask. “No?”
“You slew the thunderbird.”
There it was, out in the open at last. It was true. She’d done it, for no other reason than to prove that she could. It had seemed like a good idea, at the time. It hadn’t even occurred to her that it might be wrong. And yet she couldn’t look them in the eye and tell them they were wrong to think so. The spirit’s dying screech haunted her, even as its life’s blood invigorated her.
She could not apologize, either. It wasn’t in her. And she knew they would not accept it if she did. Blood had been spilled, and the time for talking was past.
“So be it,” she said. “Which of you will face me first?”
Nobody answered. There was shame on three of their faces. With growing dread, she realized why.
“You slew the thunderbird,” Tamil repeated. “You killed a sacred thing. You are not clan. You are a beast running wild, and we will fight you as one.”
She looked into their eyes, her nameless father’s uncanny sight piercing into their souls, and saw anger. Shame. Resignation. Pity. And fear. Only then did anger kindle in her heart; she could accept that they would fight her, even kill her, and that was no betrayal, but that these four, her kindred, her comrades in arms, would dare to fear her -
She threw back her head and laughed, and the storm laughed with her.
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I'm not going to say it was damage, but it was damage.
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May 15, 2024 21:00:37 GMT
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Post by Robot on Mar 25, 2018 2:35:34 GMT
After some deliberation, I have accepted four players, those being Nocturne's Rion, Masterblade's Lord Lootbox, Dark Shadow's Crimson, and Bowyer's Iwa. Thank you everyone for your interest.
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