You awake alone in a room, as per cliche, you have 3 things: a HORRIBLE HANGOVER (H^1), a PISTOL (G^1), and a copy of the WEEZER BLUE ALBUM (Weez^1) for some reason. There is a door on the other side of the room. What do you do?
Synchronous choir of nature absent fills the spiraling wastes around, even the self that holds it is abstract in a sense. Fractal creature no more real than ideas, no more complex than amoebas.
The imitation of life would have continued without entropy not for the Drift. A rare event of converting currents of thought, it had felt some in the past from time to time
After the conclusion of The battle for Yu Dao in 101 AG, Aang and Zuko instated a coalition government, where the colonies would be governed by both Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom citizens. The system first came into place in Yu Dao and the rest of the colonies adopted this soon after. People from all over the world flock to this place in hopes of setting up a brighter future for themselves, and to have a say in this era. The Year is 105 and you are being brought up in the newly formed coalition government.
At the tender age of twelve a more formal education was given to the upcoming youth of Yu Dao. To equal the divide between nations and cultures, foster peace, friendships, and prevent the creation of another tragedy like the Hundred Year War. This up-and-coming generation is sure to shape the world. Now let us start at the beginning.
As the vestiges of the nightmare faded, Wetware's eyes snapped open — the backseat of his 2005 Honda Civic cradling his frame like a makeshift cot. The car was a beater; rust gnawed at its edges, the paint job was more of a patchwork quilt of past collisions than a factory finish, yet the engine murmured its reliable heartbeat underneath all that decay. It was this contradiction of resilience in the face of ruin that had always spoken to Wetware, a reflection of his own existence.
His phone, a once-shiny testament to modern connectivity, now clung to life by a thread, its battery indicator a critical hue. Beside him, the AR-15 lay dormant — its surface bore the tale of uncounted engagements, and the handguns were a collection of cold metal and potential, magazines fully fed though starved for maintenance. They would not falter if called upon; his crafts assured it, but like him, they were worn.
The workshop — Wetware's haven of solitude, creativity, and the arcane — now reeked of the feral and the fierce. The Uratha, werewolves of the modern night, had claimed it as their den. Those creatures, bound by pack and moon, held no reverence for the work of a man like Wetware. They saw not the sacred geometry of a gear nor the spirit of the machine. Their invasion was an affront, a violation of his claimed territory, and their presence churned his gut with a cocktail of anger and a pinch of fear. This was his ground to stand, his line in the sand, his cause for war.
Whispers broke the stillness within the Civic. The spirits, once silent, now spoke with voices coaxed into existence by his spells, each object home to an essence now given tongue.
The AR-15's spirit was brash, its tone metallic and sharp, the echo of a shell casing hitting concrete. "Well, Wetware, you gonna clean this mess up or what? Those mongrels got your scent and your space."
His car, a loyaler companion Wetware never had, hummed a thought through the worn fabric of the seats, "My wheels are ready, but you gotta steer us clear, boss."
The phone, ever pragmatic, added its digital drawl, "Battery’s low. Make the calls you need before I go silent."
Scattered across the bustling streets and shady corners of the metropolitan city of Goryo, come tales of wicked creatures living within our electronics. These mysterious “Digital Monsters” are said to haunt and even kill those unfortunate enough to encounter them. These dangers have become so prevalent that the GMPD (Goryo Metropolitan Police Department) have created an off the record group to solve these strange cases.
This group has no official name, but has internally taken the inconspicuous name of ADAM (Autonomous Digital Anomaly Maintenance)
Due to the oddities that ADAM hunts, and the rarity of individuals with the capabilities to deal with them, it is often forced to recruit members of the public as private contractors.
You are one of those rare members of the public who have the capabilities to assist ADAM in its hunt to protect the public from these digital monsters.
You are > male > female and > a delusional highschooler > an aimless young adult > an overworked salaryman/woman
Though, we may be getting ahead of ourselves, as you have not yet been exposed to the hidden digital world that lies just beneath our own. To you, these “Digimon” are just urban legends that have been passed around for a couple years now, but soon you shall find they are far from fiction.
(Also figured i should note this now, your choice in character type will affect what your partner is, but it's secret cause i feel like that's more fun)
<span class="mu-s"> April 5th, 1940 </span> You're sitting in a grey, dingy box with one of your fellow NKVD officers, Dmitri Nicolschi. He asks you if you're informed on the mission. "Of course, Comrade Dmitiri," you assure him. You run over the plan in your head. You'll be driven through Romania, taken to a remote location in northern Yugoslavia, and flown north in a small fighter plane to be paradropped into Magdeburg, only a few miles West of Berlin.
Dmitri slams a dossier on the table, labeled <span class="mu-r"> OPERATION: ERIKA </span>. You open it up, showing pictures of the location. It describes a parade that will be held there, and briefs you on your mission to <span class="mu-s">assassinate Adolf Hitler.</span> Stalin will have your head on a pike firmly planted in the coldest part of Siberia if you fail this mission. Pavel speaks again, in his thick accent, firmly reminiscent of the Motherland, > "You take gun. Choose." An unnamed officer walks in and places three firearms on the table in front of you.
One, a suppressed bolt-action sniper that fires a .223 round. Another, a silenced TT-33 Tokarev, modified to have to be manually racked each shot. It's virtually silent. The third, a dart gun that fires a small cyanide-loaded dart
Which will you choose before you begin your mission?
> The sniper. Long-range is clearly the best option for this mission. > The Tokarev. I want to see the look on the Fuhrer's face as he keels over and dies. > The dart gun. Leave no evidence of assassination, perhaps they will rule it as a natural death.
‘’They say that to aid an escaped serf he once challenged the serf’s former lord to single combat. This duel lasted for ten hours, ten hours until the bells of the church nearby rang twelve times. Thereby freeing the serf forever more, yet the lord of the land would not give up so easily yet. Instead he planned his revenge on Ehrenfriend, who had left to make certain that the now free serf was brought to the limits of the domain safely as to prevent the wrath of his former lord from being wrought upon him.’’
While he was telling this tale the man in question was busy throwing another knight of his horse in the joust. This man excels in this type of thing you could see, he has an air of confidence and adventurous spirit that is pretty rare in these lands. The ordinary Greifswalder does not extoll such things much, for their virtues are humility and diligence. Even the knights and nobles of the realm don’t. They prefer the military service part of the codes of chivalry. There is no strong culture of errantry within the knights here, they instead prefer to patrol the same routes constantly and consider the very idea of roaming around to gain chivalry to be a waste of money
‘’The revenge plot did not go much better. They attempted to ambush him in an old abandoned barn where he was sleeping up in the hay stacks on the second floor. While his horse was tied up below. When they came they made a sound which he heard but did not act upon. Instead, he pretended to sleep while the men climbed up the ladder. Then, he jumped down onto a stack of fodder for his horse. He then promptly saddled up and rode out of the barn.’’
So, this fellow is clever too? How quaint. You suppose he is unique in these parts. Considering how the boy you sat nearby idolised him so much. As a tourney it seemed that the Knight Issenwald victory is a foregone conclusion. He applies just enough force on his lance to send his opponent flying, but not enough to shatter the thing.
Perhaps you should attempt to meet this man, but then again perhaps it is best to get back to work at Rittersbach.
___________________________ >I will attempt to meet him >I think I will take my leave >Write-in
You are Anon, a 6’2” albino man of exceptional strength and magical energy who can remember only faint vestiges of his past, is unaware of his real name, and is a Master in the Akeldama Great Holy Grail War, which is taking place in a city in an artificial world called Akeldama. Your Servant is Avenger of Red, a winged girl wielding considerably powerful magic who has declined to tell you her true name so far. Most recently you’ve had an unexpected encounter with the Magic Goddess Hecate, who temporarily took over Avenger’s Spirit Origin to manifest herself while your Servant was unconscious. The Goddess tricked you into swearing yourself to secrecy before presenting you with a plethora of revelations that shed some light on the context of the Holy Grail War and your identity, assuming she spoke truly. After that you sparred with Lancer of Red long enough to aggravate a wound in your stomach, but you discovered a couple more uses of the abilities you already had in the process. Your match against her also awakened something in your blood, or perhaps in your spirit, developing a modicum of Divinity, though you’ve kept that fact to yourself so far.
Much lurks in the dark in the world. The land is poor, the weather harsh, and danger lurks in every direction. Chaos looms, perverting and mutating all it touches, while the few devoted enough to truly serve Law become unrecognisable servants to alien gods in their search for stability.
Surrounded by the endless wilderness, a people gather together, and strive to survive, to build lives for themselves and keep the wolves from the door.
<span class="mu-i">As long as there is space to be traveled, there will be ships; as long as there is trade to be done, there will be <span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">PIRATES.</span></span></span>
~~~~
<span class="mu-i">Prey</span>, you think. <span class="mu-i">I am surrounded by prey and I can do nothing about it.</span>
Your ship is docked to a spindly arm extending out from the Free Traders’ Guild platform, tied and bound in all but name. Around you are hundreds of merchantmen, a motley assortment of traders and Company ships seeking the same commodities of travel that you do. Their ponderous freighters are ten times larger than your own vessel—but you could crack them open and plunder them without breaking a sweat, if you really wanted to. You wondered if they knew that, if they had even a kindling of an idea that there might be a pirate in their midst.
“Almost ready to depart, skipper,” the operations officer announces. You give only the barest acknowledgement before turning from the small viewport and walking across the bridge to your own chair, picking up snippets of conversation as you go.
<span class="mu-b">...I’d bet my great aunt’s star yacht he’s pullin’ ya leg…</span>
<span class="mu-g">Downed a whole snifter of that Sverulan brandy without so much as twitching an eye, that Raff…</span>
<span class="mu-r">...yer great aunt don’t own a star canoe so much a star yacht, mate.</span>
The captain’s chair is cushioned, one of the first modifications you made after taking command of this fine vessel. Just like everything in space, it was inordinately expensive, but you hadn’t cut corners: fine leather from Astris Alexandria, not a cheap thing to acquire this far out from the Federation’s center. Comfort was just that important. After all, you would never be mentally comfortable on a vessel full of backstabbing criminals; you at least deserved to be able to relax in your own chair.
But you never napped.
Now you sat back in the chair, contemplative as you studied your console. The station had been a welcome respite—a rare commodity in a pirate’s life—but you sensed that your crew was ready to get on the move, and you felt much the same. After all, the sedentary life didn’t appeal to someone like you…
