Somewhere in the upper wilds of Scotland, that was what he had deduced. Gale had long since lost the ability to use the compass he'd brought with him; it was still spinning wildly in all directions, last he had checked, and it was of absolutely no use whatsoever anymore. He'd tucked it away back into the pockets of his trousers ten minutes ago, because looking at it just made him even more frustrated than he already was.
He trudged a short distance further, lifting an arm to swipe at his sweaty forehead with the back of a hand, Gale brushing his blond bangs out of his eyes. They pale strands were sticking wetly to his flushed cheeks; it always rained in Scotland; he was used to that, even more so used to the stifled scenery, but somehow this felt different.
Especially since he wasn't even supposed to be here. He was just an accountant, for Pete's sake. An accountant who'd been sent here on a mission to find the so-called school, but so far, all Gale had gotten was a large helping of absolutely nothing at all.
He wondered why Mark had sent him here in the first place.
Then he wondered why he hadn't strangled Mark five years ago when he'd started working at the firm. All of those conspiracy theories and talks of magic and magical schools and wizards was a whole lot of nonsense, even if it did sound rather nice if Gale actually stopped to think about it.
Which he wasn't going to because it was all made up. There was no magical school, there were no wizards, there was no magic because magic wasn't real.
Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he'd eventually believe it.
Quote:
12. Spy 1. Magic Wizard Fantasy School 9. An accountant with a really boring salary
Location, New York, an over cast, lightly rainy day. Our hero the Hunter, wanders the grid like maze of the city glancing down at his phone and watch. Always on the lookout for signs of supernatural activity. He's aware there was a spike, teams have been sent to scour the city, find the disturbance and kill it.
Meanwhile from above, something not so human lingers. We see a creature of fear, her name is Samantha. She watches from above knowing how to pick out the hunters. They all ware a strange white coat, and most of the people in the city have a tendency to look past them. A new runic device capturing the way creatures of FEAR appear as shadows. They exist, people move to clear a path for them, yet they never fully see our Hunter as he stalks down the road.
Samantha however, knows that she and the hunter can see each other clear as day. They're minds awake, and capable of seeing what shouldn't be seen. Together they stalk along the road, hunter below, and monster above. They both sought the same disturbance, a creature of massive FEAR disrupting the world. The Hunter, ready to destroy. The monster, ready to steal.
Cut to Commercial.
Back with out two stalking creatures, they've cornered the prize. A fragment of Creation stuck somewhere between reality and elsewhere. The hunter summons it's weapon ready to slay the twisting vines and banish it for good. However, he's stopped in his tracks when the one named Samantha drops down from above to block his path.
The argument is heated, a moral debate about Creation being allowed to exist, to harvest the memories of others to create tools of power. The hunter believing it, and Samantha should be destroyed. Samantha arguing that creation is needed to power both their factions. The ensuing fight is short, swift, it is brutal. The monster having had more experience then the young Hunter. Though she wounds him gravely, she does not land the finishing blow.
She explains, that would be unsavory, more trouble then its worth. We watch as she cuts the portion of creation free, seeming to harvest it's energies into a small box glowing green with the pulsing hunger to create, joining with another fragment of its self. The hunter moves to object only to get a swift boot to the head knocking them out.
For now, the creature of FEAR has completed her own task, our hunter left knocked out in a dark alley waiting for the backup that was too late to come and support him. What does the creature of FEAR desire these fragments of Creation for? We continue to study them to this day to figure out their plot. Perhaps they plan to use it against humanity, or the hunters, either way, the struggle will continue on for years to come fighting over fragments of the Legacies and the power they hold.
[[3: Fantasy genre // 20: Any setting (abandoned botanical garden) // 19: Arrakis is a drunk]]
He laughed, little flickers of light dancing around his fingertips as he looked up and out over the trees and weeds that had once been a carefully manicured botanical garden. He laughed, and the world swayed a little. He leaned against a tree, sparks leaving where his hand met the bark that he then traced with his fingers. He could feel the energy and magic thrumming under the bark, calling to him like a familiar friend. Sliding to the ground against the tree, the empty glass bottle in his other hand rolling out over the grass, he let out a long sigh.
He looked up at the leaves and branches above him, noting the way they doubled and swayed even now that he was sitting. He closed his eyes before his stomach could join the swaying itself. He felt fuzzy, warm, floating while sitting on the grass. He... didn't remember the last time he hadn't felt fuzzy, warm. Lifting his hand and swaying it back and forth, he summoned a small breeze that teased at his shirt and hair. It... bothered him, somewhere back in the back of his mind, that he'd had a bottle nearly permanently attached to him lately.
But it made everything easier to handle. It slowed everything down. Made some of it seem far enough away that it wasn't going to bother him. As long as he felt warm, sluggish, fuzzy, he felt like nothing could touch him. Nothing except the feeling of the trees and grass around him. A thick chuckle and he opened his eyes to watch the sparks dance from his fingertips again. Spark. Flash. Little scents of acrid smoke that he sighed at dismissively. A flame that wound its way around his fingers without ever burning him. He could hardly feel it, in fact.
It was still there when he dropped his hand to the ground, leaning his head back against the trunk of the tree behind him. This time, the flame burned and turned the grass and weeds black and red. His eyes closed as the flames caught.
(WC:347)
OOC
gaia_crown[ MY CHARACTER'S REAL NAME ] Arrakis Dismth gaia_crown[ MY CHARACTER'S HP ] 40/40 (due to rare shirt)
Attack is 2d6-6 & 1 Fear attack: YEAR ONE -- SWIFT STRIKES When hit by Swift Strikes, the opponent is hit several times in rapid succession. On their own these attacks would deal little damage, but when combined they are on par with the best of Battle Cries. TIER I Dice: 7d4 First Dice: 1: miss 2-3: HIT however the resulting damage is divided by 2. Only 50% of the damage is dealt. 4: HIT however the resulting damage is multiplied by .8. Only 80% of the damage is dealt. Damage: Ignore the first dice, total up the remaining dice. Divide or multiply the total by the modifier depending.
gaia_crown[ LINK TO MY ACTUAL CHARACTER's JOURNAL ][xXx] gaia_crown[ MY CHARACTER'S CLOTHING EQUIPPED (shades bought here) Arrakis gets +10 HP, +2 additional attack on top of attack PER turn INCLUDING FEAR ATTACKS, +2 chance for rerolls gaia_crownMY CHARACTER'S BONUS ITEMS: +1 maxed arcana card. You can use this any time to heal your character 20 HP == Rank 3/4 B Arcana +1 maxed arcana card. You can use this any time to heal your character 20 HP == Rank 3/4 C Arcana +1 maxed arcana card. You can use this any time to heal your character 20 HP == Rank 3/4 F Arcana +1 full heal item (BOSS ORP -- Insanity) [xXx]
Roll 3: 14, 17, 10 14. Disaster 17. Haunted house 10. Telepathic
It was the spiral in the center of everything. Walking down the cracked stepping stones and overgrown lawn, his eyes went up to the swirling black mass of clouds, cracked with fragments of red light that trickled sparks and flashes before rumbling and making the hair on the back of his head stand on end. Among the tanks and military trucks, he could hear the radio buzz and crackle, continuing the coverage to the public about the onslaught of ghosts and other-worldy demonic hell that seeped up, and all because someone had to go around and touch things when they had their back turned.
Even from here he could see from the glowing green insides of the house the howling wraiths and ghouls that rushed out of the cracked roof and into the world while a concentrated beam shot up as a beacon that something was open, something was here, something was changing the world, and something needed done. It didn't take rocket science or even high-powered technology to pinpoint where the problem was, but the officers and scientists patted their back and would take their credits once everything was done to help further their projects later.
Right now that their part was done, diffusal was being sent in. Usually he only had to deal with the most minor problems, and even then he needed an escort at his back prodding him down the walk to make sure he actually went in. While there was a nice pay back waiting for him, that didn't mean he didn't need a hand on a gun to serve as a reminder that choices and options were really just pretty thoughts. He was about the same as a mop, sopping up the mess to keep everyone from getting their feet wet.
He noticed the extra escorts this time, which didn't help the gravity of just how overwhelming this was, and his brain hummed like a car engine against his skull, making it hard to focus on the solider who placed a hand firmly on his back and kept pushing him forward. Times like this made him remember how this was the most physical contact he had in the past month, and that was counting the barista accidentally touching his fingertips when giving him his hot mocha. Why couldn't he had enough courage to just use Tinder for once and remedy that without now being faced with the gates of hell and thinking a solider touching his back with a gun in his other hand was somehow really nice?
The porch creaked, and he thought that, if given time and attention, along with some nice varnish and some paint, maybe this lace could have been great once. Had a family.
His stomach felt heavy, and he felt more alone once he noticed the hand wasn't there. Turning back, he saw the soldiers stepping back, guns drawn, and he adjusted the radio in his ear before moving into the door. No one could touch it, which was why he was being sent in. He didn't need to touch it when he could let his mind do it. All he had to do was find the mirror.
She was the best at what she did, that was for damn sure.
That was probably why she'd been hired...no, not hired. These people weren't likely to pay her anything for her services. She had been coerced, convinced that this was something that needed to be done, that she was the only one that was capable, and that the entire ******** city was depending on her.
It felt strange that this little show down between her and the villain of this little story should happen in a mall, of all places. Maybe it was to Doctor Doomentia's advantage, however. After all, it was pretty damn hard for her to get anywhere near him with all of the people shoving passed, screaming, fleeing in hordes away from where a gigantic robot dinosaur stomped around with none other than the evil Doctor himself behind the steering wheel.
She was no hero, she had told them that. She would do them this favour, just this once, but they'd better not ever call her a hero, for it.
She pushed her way through the crowds, and not gently, her sword strapped to her back, a gun at her hip, knives hidden just about everywhere on her person.
Finally, she was in the clear.
"Hey, a*****e!" She called up towards her now foe, though it was doubtful he was even paying attention to her, just another face in the crowd, and even if he did, her words seemed to have no effect, as he resumed stomping, his maniacal cackle drifting down towards her ears below.
Well. So be it. If he wasn't going to notice her, she was just going to have to make him notice.
With the ring of steel, she pulled the blade from her back and ran, her "abilities" lending her speed rarely seen, along with agility and strength. When she jumped, it was like she could fly, and when she struck robotic metal with steel, she struck hard, her sword digging, her fingers grasping the hilt tight, her eyes a blaze of gold.
"I said Hey, a*****e." She repeated herself, as her blade stabbed into a robotic snout, just as she landed on it, her gaze locked onto his surprised ones.
"I think you'll find that this was a really bad idea."
The Sahara had always been an extremely hostile environment. It was warm, very warm. The sun was always beating down. Any water that was available was gone almost as soon as it was spotted, evaporating into the air. It never rained. There was barely any fertile locations.
The fertile locations that had existed, now, were gone. There were no settlements remaining, only long-abandoned, radiated houses and piles and piles of bones, where there were any remnants of bodies left. Many of them had been picked over by now, first by the scavengers that were desperately trying to survive, and then by whatever animals remained, or by whatever monsters wandered the shifting sands.
Ignatius drifted. That was all he did, now.
There was nothing to really interact with, there. On occasion, he crossed paths with another like him, but they did little more than a wave, perhaps a nod of acknowledgment. There was no point in much else. After all, there was little else to see, little else to say, little else to contend with.
Everyone knew the terms.
Ignatius looked out into the distance, squinting at the bright light that stared back at him for just a moment. The sun seemed brighter, these days. All the colours seemed more vivid, but there were so few of them, anyway. It was mostly yellow. Yellow as far as his eye could see.
But he would continue to drift, for there was nothing else left for him to do.
After all, everything here had died long ago.
Quote:
15. Post apocalyptic 14. Sahara Desert 2. Already dead/a ghost
OOC
gaia_crown[ MY CHARACTER'S REAL NAME ] Y. Ignatius Svarog gaia_crown[ MY CHARACTER'S HP ] 60/60 gaia_crown[ LINK TO MY ACTUAL CHARACTER's JOURNAL ][Here] gaia_crown[ MY CHARACTER'S CLOTHING EQUIPPED gaia_crownMY CHARACTER'S BONUS ITEMS: - +10HP via Scrub Top - +3 Dmg to all rolls via Fluffy Skirt - +3 roll retries via Tech Apron - +5 max Arcana (+20HP heal each) (1 used) - +1 Full Heal via Insanity Battle
GENRE: (15) Post Apocalyptic SETTING: (3) Their IC Home YOUR CHARACTER IS A: (3) Doctor
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."
He had said it more times than he could realize, when she could hear his apologies and pleas for forgiveness. Now, he was really only talking to himself. Unless her soul still lingered in their home, he was alone. The only one living, at least. When was the last time he'd actually seen another person? Weeks? Months? Yuki didn't know, not that he had much reason to care anymore.
So few had ever come to him to offer aid; only to seek it. Back when he'd still had supplies. Medicine, mostly. It had been foolish to give assistance so indiscriminately, but it was difficult to turn away the sick and injured when he knew he could help him. It had been his job before society crumbled, and it had made him happy to be useful even thereafter. Until the drugs, disinfectants and salves had run out.
When the people who had lingered in their small community had gone toward the bigger cities - or, what might be left of them - they hadn't. He could have traveled, but he wouldn't ask it of his wife. He'd not pressed the idea, honestly afraid of what hostility they might find, and she had agreed.
Yuki regretted it every day since she'd started showing signs of sickness and became feverish, but by then it was impossible to expect to relocate. Would he have found more supplies, or would everything have been scavenged or stolen? He asked himself countless times, but he had no way to know for sure, and he didn't have the power to bring back the dead.
OOC
gaia_crown[ MY CHARACTER'S REAL NAME ] Yuki gaia_crown[ MY CHARACTER'S HP ] 15/55 (2d10 -6) gaia_crown[ LINK TO MY ACTUAL CHARACTER'S JOURNAL ]Here gaia_crown[ MY CHARACTER'S CLOTHING EQUIPPED ] - Ice Tee (Uncommon Shirt): +5 bonus HP on top of your existing for the rest of this meta. - Black Jeans (Common Pants): +1 additional attack on top of your attack PER turn INCLUDING FEAR ATTACKS. - Cool Sneakers (Common Accessory): +1 chances of rerolls for the entire finale. gaia_crownMY CHARACTER'S BONUS ITEMS: - +1 Maxed Arcana Card: Heal 20 HP. - +1 Arcana Card: Heal 5 HP. - +1 Arcana Card: Heal 5 HP. - +1 Full Heal (Insanity Boss).
Rokane was in her last year of Jr. High, and her grades in school had been worse and worse. She had always been kind of a space case, but since she spent every other night purifying the hearts of people in the town who had been turned into monsters, she hadn't been getting much studying done. It was one thing to save innocent people, it was something entirely different to face exams.
It also meant she had to explain all the injuries. The bruises, especially. She'd started wearing clothes with long sleeves. She also hadn't worn makeup before, and she knew she wasn't doing a good job of it, but she had to do something.
Her family was really nice, but she had to protect them. Nobody could know her identity. Not her mom and dad, not her brothers, not her friends.
"You're not going to study, Rokane? Your science test is tomorrow!" Seven urged, popping out of her bag. The tiny monster looked like a stuffed toy, but Rokane alone could transform Seven into their true form. "Today's the big sale at the Art Store," Rokane reminded Seven. "It's only once a year."
"If you say so," Seven said, laying back in her bag. "You're the chosen one."
It was always like that. "Lately I haven't had time to do anything except-"
Around the Art Store was an evil aura. Rokane started. Not again! She didn't know if it was coincidence or something more that drew her into situations like this... "Hold on, Seven," she said, ducking under the chain of an abandoned store space. "Did you...?"
"A darkness seed!" Seven said. "Ready when you are."
Seconds later, an armored fighter with helicopter blades on his back stepped forward. Its metal tail swished playfully, a pair of metal ears perking on top of its helmet, "Prepare yourself," Kopter Kop Kitty said, pointing towards the monster emerging from the store, "Light will always triumph over darkness!"
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