It has been 100 years since ancient beings, known as the Old Ones, walked the Earth with their two strong feet. Now they are gone and we animals now rule the remains that they left behind. With our new knowledge of sword and sorcery, we were able to survive in peace for a while, but then came the three factions. The Apes: Strong giants, claiming to be as just as the old ones and believe they should be the ones to rule over the new world. The Pigs: An intellectual but slothful group who wish to rule the world with an iron hoof and remain kings while the others remained as dumb animals. Then there the Lizards: A fast and large group that want to set the world a blaze. Trying to forget the harsh past that the old ones left. All three sides wishing to go war and destroy one another to bring in what they believe to be true peace. But, unbeknownst to everyone, there was another group. One that was trying their best to find a way to heal everyone. To bring back order. You found it.... and now you are taking care of it.
>OOC: Been incrediably sick so, sorry. As long as I get the votes will try to post more and shorten them some. Thank everyone sticking with it through my IRL shit.
I will go through the last few threads and sheets to make sure I have the bonuses right; they should be coming a lot slower now. Just assume the girls are very fricking deadly when it is life or death if they are geared up and prepped.
You're Jennifer "Jenn" Sanders, proud Thunderbird Witch, twin sister to Emily Sanders. Adoptive sister to several other people. Currently you and your Coven are on the trail of your ancestor, Lord Salazar Slytherin's powerful wand, to keep it from the clutches of Evil, stop one catastrophe, and mitigate another. You were the last true Seer for a time, a 16-year-old part-Veela girl way over your head.
You have begun collecting allies, training the young ones to survive. One of those allies, your adoptive sister, Aubrey Thompson? A girl with some schizophrenia, ADHD, delusions, and enough guns, Magic, and training to take over a small country revealed that she believed something. Namely?
That you, Em, your genius, slightly autistic "sister," Macy Wright, and "big brother" David Adams were Angels; Guardian Angels, capital 'A' Angels. Together, you decided to just let her think what she needed to.
You trained some kids and an older crippled girl who hated you but whom you had declared was your sister too. Gave out gifts. Taught a cute girl to be brave and kiss so she could ask out a boy she loved.
Made lighting your bitch, but had your ears and eyes change from using the shard of your soul put back in wrong, named Jenny to do it. Met 'Brey's uncle, Fox, the greatest thief in the world and new staff member.
Began to befriend an outgoing girl in your House named Trish who introduced you to the school's priestess, a woman armed for a crusade and with enough medals, Muggle and Magical, to make Audie Murphy blush. Had her explain some about Enchanting, the school, and an odd cat who seemingly had been around for more than 200 years and was also a preacher... somehow.
At the end? The tall, kind vestal passed on some artifacts for you and Em, including a sawed-off shotgun and magic sword; others you would know where they belonged.
Decided America was both mad and amazing as you passed on a huge Enchanted Desert Eagle to 'Brey and a long, Magic dagger to Macy.
And now...it was time to read a mysterious scroll, go to a guest lecture, and see your young apprentice Michah Mason blow people out at Magic exploding ball rugby.
The sun rises over the horizon, painting the far horizons of New York City in a cascade of brightness and tones situated around the tall buildings. Today is just a day like any other as you rise, the brightness of the morning sky peeking through your curtained windows.
Stretching out of bed with a fairly dramatic yawn, you hear a voice call out to you, "Honey, come down and eat before the bus gets here!" Your mothers voice resounds from downstairs.
"I'll be down there soon!" You respond, huffing to yourself as you get out of bed and head towards the bathroom.
Turning the shower on and waiting for the water to heat up, you undress and gather your school uniform into a neat pile nearby in your bathroom. Some time passes after you finally clean up and get ready, your blue and white uniform accentuating your lean form fairly well. You look for your student card before heading downstairs and finally find it, the has your picture on it with a name that reads..
A soft quiet hangs over the forest as you run through the underbrush. Compared to the lobby, it felt like a heavy blanket was draped over the arena and muffled everything outside. You do your best to not break the silence with your movement as you hurry through the forest. Spawns in an arena match are static but there were a few different locations where one could be spawned in. The limited amount of spawn points meant that anyone could narrow down the location of their opponent by heading over to them and seeing if they were there. That was, of course, assuming that their opponent hadn't moved in the interim. With how defenseless you were right now, you were sure that one or two direct hits from a simple spell would be disastrous. Not to mention her aim was far better than any newbie you ever saw. It would be best not to underestimate her, especially now that she had practice. You slide behind a fallen log and go prone. You strain your ears for any sound of your opponent but the silence persists. You needed to formulate a strategy.
The set up of your fight was quite simple, each of you had 3 healing potions and 3 mana potions. Not too egregious but enough to give each other a pick me up in case of a bad hit. You're not sure how well you'd be able to utilize the mana potions at the moment but the healing potions could come in handy in a pinch. You also had your ability to cheat death once per real world day. It was an ability that Serena didn't know about and you weren't really sure you wanted to use for a simple spar. Lifting up your coat, you make sure that your canister of fuel on your hip was locked in and ready to use. A quick adjustment of the wrist and the nozzle for your igniter, a miniaturized flamethrower, pops up and ready to use. You only had about 5 shots with a single can unless you decided to empty it completely for a large wall of fire. Finally, you reach down and pop off the small buckle on your belt. You flick the small lid off of the fake lighter and see the tiny grapple hook pop out, ready to fire and zip you towards your target or pull something towards you if it was light enough. These were just two of the gadgets you had built in what you hoped would be a small arsenal of tricks you could use. Even so, you weren't sure how well they could carry you now that you were playing a class without features.
On a faraway world, humanity is thriving. Across the surface of this planet, thousands of tribes have been born and most of them have fallen to the wayside in their quest to become something greater – true civilisations. Only the worthy have evolved beyond a tribal state and now they are ready, to leave their mark on the world for evermore.
We are following one such civilisation, who call themselves the <span class="mu-s">Croglatovic</span> – the <span class="mu-i">People of the Great Lake</span>, in their own tongue.
They belong to the <span class="mu-s">Scavic</span>, a race of people with soft faces, fair hair and blue-grey skin. Like the rest of their kind, they inhabit the <span class="mu-s">Grascan</span>, a vast oceanic forest filled with dangerous beasts and towering trees. The Croglatovic have dominated the shore of the <span class="mu-s">Croglatol</span> and the banks of the <span class="mu-s">Choslitol</span>, a great lake and the river that flows from it into the sea. Here, the forest is thin and civilisation is allowed to flourish without fear of predation.
Though most of the Croglatovic still enjoy a rural lifestyle of rearing swine and tending to hives of honey bees, the city of <span class="mu-s">Ancron</span> has become increasingly important to the chiefdom. Hundreds of men and women now work as artisans, copyists and couriers. Instead of growing or butchering their own food, they pay for it with <span class="mu-s">toroc</span>, the <span class="mu-i">shell money</span> that serves as the civilisation's currency. Urbanity is taking hold.
Yet the chiefdom still clings to its faith. The Croglatovic have devoted themselves to <span class="mu-s">An</span>, the <span class="mu-i">Allmother</span> and the source of the divine energy that flows through all living things – <span class="mu-s">Drocrom</span>. Though the <span class="mu-i">sisterhood</span> of priestesses known as the <span class="mu-s">drobrac</span> oversee the worship of Allmother, the chiefdom has other gods. <span class="mu-s">Il</span>, the <span class="mu-i">Great Father</span>, the first son and first lover of An, serves as her masculine counterpart, while the <span class="mu-i">Four Winds</span> govern the natural world.
The most notable servants of Il are the <span class="mu-s">Brulicruvic</span>, the <span class="mu-i">Truthguard</span>, the warrior caste of the Croglatovic. Armed with spears and dressed in shining scales, they defend the Croglatol from <span class="mu-s">Grovic</span> thieves and foreign raiders. As the chiefdom comes to rely on bronze rather than copper, these soldiers will have to adapt and embrace new technology. Will they find success in this new age, or will they fail the civilisation that they serve?
The warriors aren't the only ones who shall be challenged by the shifting status quo. The wily merchants of the Croglatovic might have more avenues for exploitation than ever before, yet they also have to deal with more competition. The <span class="mu-s">Glalividul</span> and <span class="mu-s">Anidan</span>, the <span class="mu-i">chieftain</span> and <span class="mu-i">saint</span> who rule over the chiefdom, may struggle to manage the increasingly clever <span class="mu-s">Glavic</span>, the <span class="mu-i">council of headsmen and patriarchs</span> who serve them. Great change awaits this civilisation.
Your name is… your name is… you cannot really remember.
You're currently swimming in darkness. Not literally, not a dark lake or anything like that. More like swimming in the void. You cannot see yourself. You cannot feel yourself. Are you even there? Do you even exist? And if you do, are you even alive?
A sharp pain was felt somewhere near where your head should be. You could not open your eyes, because you could not find them. Maybe you could not see, but you could touch. You could definitely feel things.
You tried to lift your right hand. It did not move. It did not feel like it was there. Your left one, however, felt… different. As if it was not yours, like an uninvited guest that refused to leave. Not only that, but it felt as if something was pressing against it. Something… wet. Sticky.
Another peck, close to your neck this time. It was not painful. Just… annoying. Very annoying. But it brought something positive with it. You were no longer swimming in darkness. Not entirely, at least. You began to hear things.
The sound of waves around you felt calming. Relaxing. Screeches of animals, and low, guttural roars of large beasts feasting. And far, far away, you felt a certain coldness. It felt both faint and vast at the same time. You could not see it. You could not picture it. It was a new sensation. Like a cold, invisible flame calling for you. Well… calling was a strong word. Beckoning? Luring you? No. It was a curiosity. Strong curiosity. Yes, that felt right.
Three pecks in total. One of them actually hurt. The sudden pain was enough to pull you out of this primordial soup of emptiness.
You were on a beach. A putrid, foul-smelling beach. You moved your right arm, batting at whatever was attacking you, and the distorted cries of birds faded as they flew away. Your left arm was stuck, deep in what felt like a pit of wet sand. You pulled, and, strangely enough, your entire arm came free in a single movement. You had expected more resistance.
You looked around. It was indeed a beach. The sun was slowly rising in the distance. Black and red beasts with white masks lurked nearby, sleeping or scavenging for food.
The first thing that caught your attention was your left arm. It looked disturbingly similar to them. Black, with white protrusions jutting from it. Slimy against the skin, solid along what appeared to be jagged bones. The fingers were the same. Sharp, clawed, and… fully under your control. This contamination extended from your fingertips up to the side of your neck and partially across your bare chest. Bare… where were your clothes? A lady should not be seen like this.
With the fall of the Space Fortress Artemis, the Might of the hijacked G-Weapons is finally showcased for both sides to see in a proper engagement... <span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">You, Frieden Moon. Did not take part on it.</span></span> But as you're finally arriving closer to the PLANT colonies in order to discuss the situation of not only Heliopolis' fall but perhaps, the Secrets discovered within it... <span class="mu-i">A question is raised over what it means for the only Natural ZAFT pilot to come back with news for the Homeland's council to hear.</span>
Last time, after an enormous victory against organized crime, you had nothing else to do but to celebrate. The party is going great so far: you cooked people’s favorites, everyone played a long variety of games, and you had heart-to-hearts with your loved ones over the railing outside your apartment. The stars and this cool piece of steel will be the only witnesses to these heartfelt moments.
You’re back in the apartment, your favorite pretend-to-be girlfriend asked you to join the karaoke. You want to sing, but it’s ill advised — you’re terrible at it. Nonetheless, this isn’t the only activity you can partake in. Matilda, Celia, and Aurora are cooking something for you. And there’s this elephant in the room you haven’t quite addressed yet. Someone who isn’t part of the team…
Matilda, Celia, Aurora, Odetta, and Liu had their moment. Meaning you might want to spend time with Vera, Lydie, Crossbill, and Sasha (?) who are by the karaoke too. Well, Liu is there too, she’ll get an extra moment, she’s greedy like that.
“My dear boyfriend! The love of my life! Join us! It’s time to sing…!” Lydie holds the microphone towards your direction. Sasha has her tambourine ready. Vera is trying to remember something important about letting you sing. And Crossbill is curious about your abilities. Oh, and Liu is there. You already said that, but it bears repeating.
“Well, I…” You close the door right behind you. Good-bye scenic set piece. You did your job well.
The microphone calls you…
<span class="mu-s">What do you do?</span>
>“Sure, just beware, I’m a bad singer.” Diplomatically take away the blame from yourself before you kill them all. >“Sorry, I’m really bad at singing. If you don’t believe me, I can call some people to testify.” You’re willing to do another phone call to save their lives. That’s how much they mean to you. >“Before that, I want to know, where is Sasha staying?” You don’t want another hobo! Well, maybe you do, but not this one! You carefully select your hobos, Sasha isn’t your responsibility. >Before you can mutter a single word, the girls’ meal is ready! Gotta eat what they have prepared first. Can’t let the food get cold. >Write In.
The sky above you is most of the way covered by the black clouds above you. Rain pours down into the forested area around you, drowning your armor and robe at the torrential downpour. There is not a single other creature here, save for yourself, and how could there be? The thunderous charges strike the ground, their charge on impacting the ground causing a near deafening sound.
<span class="mu-s">"YOU COME TO MY REALM, MORTAL?"</span> The sound of a deep, booming voice echoes around you, despite the never ending thunder strikes reverberating through the landscape.
You cover your ears, the stimulation overload and sound deafening quakes causing the beginning of your ears to bleed. Clenching your head in pain, your shoulder length, black hair blasts back from all the wind. You summon as much willpower as you can to power through the overwhelming sensations. This has been a long time coming, you've earned the right to be here.
For just a moment, time slows down. A wave of thunder crashing right in front of you, the force of this one causes what could simply be put as a wall of air knocks you away and causes you to collide with a tree. The force of being pushed into such an object only causes you to wince, your near perfected form is durable.
<span class="mu-s">HOW DID YOU GET THROUGH TO HERE? STATE YOUR BUSINESS TO ME!</span> The authority of this command nearly causes your spine to clench. Where the thunder once struck in front of you now stands a massive, redheaded man. His muscular stature is apparent, even through his armor you can tell he truly has a gods physique. His eyes that crackle, hiding the color of their eyes stare forth at you.
>Thor, I've come to make a bargain.
>Command to him that you're here for his power and that hammer. You challenge him to a fight.
>He fell for it, capture him with the seals you've placed around the area.
You are <span class="mu-s">Princess Myrcella Baratheon</span> and your problems are too numerous to count.
Where do you even begin? Your older brother <span class="mu-s">Joffrey</span> is a charismatic sociopath who enjoys torturing kittens to death. Your younger brother <span class="mu-s">Tommen</span>, for all his good moral character, lacks anything resembling a spine. Your mother, <span class="mu-s">Queen Cersei Baratheon</span>, is a witless imbecile who has convinced herself that she's the most intelligent person in any room that she walks into. Your so-called <span class="mu-s">friends</span> are all your mother's lapdogs, well behaved handmaidens who tell your stupid bint of a mother <span class="mu-i">everything</span> you talk about. Your father, <span class="mu-s">King Robert Baratheon</span>, is prone to rage and drinking when he's not fucking his way through every whore in King's Landing.
To make matters worse, the <span class="mu-s">one</span> human being in all the city you could rely on, who <span class="mu-s">cared enough</span> to hear out your troubles and offer grandfatherly advice, just dropped dead. Old age and a sudden sickness, claimed <span class="mu-s">Grand Maester Pycelle</span>, which might as well have been code for foul play in the height of summer, when his wife and sickly son remained hale and hearty. The one good thing that came from Lord Arryn's death was how mutual grief warmed your relations with your oaf of a father. For all of his many faults, and for all that he ignored Lord Arryn's advice, your father certainly loved the man.
"Took you under his wing, did he?" your father asked, and you pretended that he'd always been so interested in your daily life. "I'm glad at least one of my children could appreciate his council."
If only your father appreciated his council more. Then perhaps you would not have heard the servants whisper of debts accumulating at horrific rates. Instead of saying that aloud, you simply say, "Joffrey doesn't have the temperament to sit still and listen."
Your father snorted like a boar. "No, he doesn't, does he? Proud as his mother, that boy..."
"And he rages like you in the yard," the words left your mouth before you could stop them.
Fortunately, your father took it as a compliment to your brother, and not the criticism of both their petty tantrums as you meant it to be. Joffrey hated losing, and when you couple that with his only modest talent in swordcraft... well, he tended to explode with rage. Still, hearing that lifts your father's spirits out from mourning, if only a little. "Does he now? That's good. He'll become a proper Baratheon yet."
With those words he rose to his feet and mussed up your perfectly curled hair. It's nice, receiving some proper fatherly affection for once, though you do wish he showed it in a way that didn't muck up your favorite maid's work. "Don't stay too long, Myrcella. That's what Jon would say. Pay your respects, and then go do something that you love doing."
You nodded slowly at your father's uncharacteristic wisdom, and asked, "What are you plans for the rest of the day, father?"
