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Mister Man

Hello.

0 · 597 views · located in The Garden

a character in “The Garden: Rise of The Nameless”, as played by No-one-special

Description

|| Mister ||




We have been rebuked



|| Theme Songs ||
Normal||Avatar Beat Remix||
Fighting||Monster Daddy||




||Sir/Man||
|| Age || ???
|| Gender || Appears male.
|| Sexuality || Reproduces via material eureka moments.
|| Role || Last none corrupt of the relevant.



|| Skin Tone || Pale Ashen.
|| Height || shifts between 5 foot 7 to six foot 8.
|| Weight || No consistent weight.

|| Appearance ||

By products of mental awareness, the relevant is the shadow of all humanoid sentient experience and their appearances mirrors this in all changes that are inflicted upon them. Mister is indistinguishable from any other relevant, appearing much more like a curious animated wax model than a living creature with his skin layered on thick with rubber and the pristine nature of his body he would seem almost untouchable to the world which matches his cold and discipline stature perfectly.

Mister stands tall even when he's short, his chest still without a storage of breath and his body unflinching or betraying of his inner thoughts, the creatures facial expressions hidden under a cape of shadow that hang from the cast of his hat(which change with his form) the rest of his clothes are inconsistent with the only part of him being permanent is a small flower that sits in his front pocket; each petal is only visible to a person in a different type of grief or anger.







|| Personality ||

A relevant experiences emotions as a human would experience gravity or light; as fundamental mechanism and physics to the continued order of the reality in which they inhabit which leaves all relevant to be cold,professional and cynical to these when on display. A mortal creature may have its own considerations but they are all ultimately engines to further the survival of both himself and the universe he understands. All of his species act more like aware machines with an indepth look to abstract thought rather than logic which causes him to say things in statements or brief, depersonalized manner EG: “no”-”Hello”-”It is dead”-”It is stolen”-”Die” ectr. Moments of poetry or description are possible but not standard and normally just as short.

A relevant actual feelings and personality are determined by his environment as with his appearance and traits. A relevant who is in a big factory full of workers may display work ethic and sturdy stoicism above all else. A market place: Opportunism, active alert/paranoia and competitive attitude. A court room: judgement, persecution, fear, nervousness. While his personality may change, his core intellect and desire stay in tact which means that no matter what transformations the world inflicts he will always still have his cynical and stoic self buried deep within. He is more sandwiched than consumed by the affecting forces around him.


It's hard for a relevant to actually develop any of their own personality traits but it is possible.


|| Likes ||

Honesty.

Obedience.

Logic.

Predictability and familiarity(people).


Trust and loyalty.


Simplicity.


Discipline.


Intellectual Bravery.


Stoicism.


Dreams


|| Dislikes ||

Destruction.


Death.


Machinery.


Interviews and group sessions.


Sleeping(he never sleeps if possible)


Degradation.


Hunger(all hunger)


Over Indulgence.


|| Personal Weakness ||


Mister perceives emotion holders as machines ruled and torn about by their own inward elements which his race utilize. Because of this he finds it hard to actually respect or step aside for mortal opinions and ideas, especially when it comes to his own goals and desires. His brevity only make his stubborn disagreement and lack of respect harder to conquer.


His emotions and attitude are strongly affected by his environment, including his team mates. If his team mates become demoralized then he will be overcome with fear or depression. If his team mates are becoming more agitated or aggressive to one another then his own bad attitude and tension will start to rise too. His stability is linked to his team.


While he acknowledges that his other Relevants have become corrupted, he strongly insists that he will not fight them, even going so far to admit that he would actively not take action if his team members are attacked. This stubborn stance is not only impractical towards his own welfare but his teams and effects trust. Just like everything else with Mister, it's hard to change his mind once he has chosen a position but not impossible.









|| Abilities/Magic/Tech ||

Empath: Any psychic attack done to Mister is reduced, emotional attacks have a chance of being entirely reduced unless the empath is equally or more powerful than Mister himself. Confusion/insanity/bewilders are exceptions(read weaknesses)

Precarious Existence: Whenever a physical attack is committed against Mister; be it with tech, projectile, magic(Earth for example) or melee it has a 20% of going through him entirely as if he were wind. All physical hits only deal half damage.


RAGE:

1: Spitefulness: Mister deals minor damage to a character with an invisible projectile equal to being hit with a brick or basic blunt instrument. Ignores armor. The target hit has a minor increase in anger, anger deflects fear, moral loss and sorrow or pacifying charms. : DOES NOT WORK AGAINST MACHINES OR CONSTRUCTS. Limitless.


SADNESS:

1: Insecurity: Passive skill that makes any opponent that doesn't have high resolve or definite purpose slowly lose courage and vigor the longer they look at Mister. Can render weak willed enemies without moral over a long period of time. DOES NOT WORK AGAINST MACHINES OR CONSTRUCTS.


HAPPINESS:

1: Joy: Strongly decreases all negative buffs on a target and give minor fortitude to positive buffs. If no negative or positive buffs exists, that target becomes immune to loss of moral, insanity break, charm/curses associated with sadness or anger for one minute.5 uses per fight.

1:Gusto: Deals one piercing bolt moderate damage to an enemy but raises their speed, moral and strength slightly each time. Has a range limit of 70 feet and fires speeds equal to a bullet. Is an instant cast. This attack works against machines and constructs but they won't receive any buffs. Limitless.




MIND:

1: Doubt: If an enemy target has been demoralized enough or is especially lacking loyalty then this spell will either cause them to do nothing their next chance of attack, turn against their closest friendly target-providing they aren't out numbered or obviously out gunned- or attempt to desert the battle. DOES NOT WORK AGAINST MACHINES OR CONSTRUCTS 5 uses per fight.


ABUSE: All abuse skills are limitless.

1: Unfriendly: Remove all positive buffs from a friendly character, convert one buff into a powerful bonus to Mister's rage or sadness attacks/effect.

1: Harsh: Deals high melee blunt damage-ignoring armor or tank effects-as if being hit with a pipe to a target. Removes curses, mental control, trances, forced sleep and charms. Instantly restores a character from incapacitating sorrow, fear or insanity but consequently are very angry which increases their melee capacity considerably. Anger guards against fear or relaxation/soothing effects.

|| Weakness ||

Any attacks such as large lasers, wormholes/vortex, mass microwaves, massive sonic attacks or gravity well or all engulfing, consistent flame attacks always do critical(x3 damage) damage and disable his abilities for one minute.


Elemental attacks that rely on freezing, burning or shocking have a chance of being attracted to Mister like a magnet despite their intended target an doing twice as much damage as it normally should.


Attacks aimed to confuse or bewilder/drive insane will not cause him to have any of those status but they will do moderate damage and disable all his mind or abuse spells for the rest of the fight.


A lot of his attacks can't be used against machines or constructs at lower tiers, crippling him against certain opponents.


Can't wear armor or use normal mortal weapons, including magical weapons meant used as a physical item.


Has low physical output for damage and has unremarkable tanking abilities.


|| Biography ||

Book: Here everyday thoughts usher across the landscape like breezes tiding in from unknown horizon long yonder, facts themselves comprise the landscape in the same solid and un-moving nature as rock and Earth while fiction lays up in the sky, long out of reach of even the tallest tower. Stories unravel in the streets of collaborations and ignorance like that of movie sets following around each denizen as they go about their own business.


Like the geography and physical forces that make up the very foundations of the physical world we understand, so does thought, ideas and experiences make up the world of those that live within the book; The pages are fact, everything else is subject to change of mind. Relevants are born here, many living for as long as thousands of years while some are perhaps just seconds old but ultimately all Relevants despite their ages are shaped and at the mercy of the world around them. Mister was but a moderately respected theory when he was born, he can't recall who made him but he remembered it had something to do with black holes origins.


He was in the sense of human culture what could be roughly compared to higher middle class in his race and he saw it all flutter away with the destruction of his landscape, the world he knew was changing, or at least was changing a direction this time that threatened the very existence of all he knew and love. He and a community of other relevant tried to stop the thought pollution before it was too big but it unsurprisingly failed, turning the last few Relevants into virtue-less phantasm. The very emotions which his race had once harnessed to unlock the potential of his universe and themselves had become vices and sin, transforming logical beings into beings now controlled and constantly hungry by these feelings and concepts, leading almost all of them to parade into other universes in order to abuse and terrorize these living mines of their addiction without concern for ethics or considerations.

Mister left to help his physical comrades across dimensions in order to both influence the landscape to a more healthy one in hope that it would return his friends back to him and to atone for the sins of his race. Naturally though since the consistency of Relevants being actively evil and harmful was alarmingly high(all of them) he found little guilds with overall good creeds or virtues that would accept his help. He turns to the nameless as a last ditch effort.






Killing your friends is the height of bad manners.

So begins...

Mister Man's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kira Character Portrait: Rosa Gerzon Character Portrait: Charmeine Lucifen d'Autriche Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: Anima Lumen Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
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#, as written by duramon
The door swung open easily, and as the first entered into the adjoining identical room it began to warp like a rubber wall around the group until eventually it seemed to simply break. The wall torn as reality poured in through the illusion and the group were greeted by long grass and dirt underneath their feet. If one were to turn around the door would be gone, and instead there'd be nothing but open air and sky, beneath them would be the flowing earth that marked their location as the top of a grass hill much like the one they'd arrived on, surrounded on all sides by the open plains. Sitting by a strange black box about the size of an average man were the rest of The Nameless, drinking and feasting in a circular camp ground, Hokyu was amongst them surrounded by men offering her food, wine, riches, all obviously quite pickled. On one side of the camp sat a group of more reserved individuals, they partook in the cheers and grinned as madly as the rest, but when it came to drink and meal they were nothing if not insistent on table manners, and their part of the camp was sprawled with books and scrolls. Thedas was among them and Nero followed to sit by her side, she immediately gave him a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek before returning to studying an ancient looking tome, the chuckling noise warbled from him again as he draped his arm over her.

The Nameless leader, Blitz, made his way to Aisha and Hokyu, sneaking quietly around the various tents that had been pitched before picking them both up in a tackle, holding his prizes with a roar that set the entire camp hooting and cheering and left the two girls grinning and flailing in mock-protest. He dropped them both back on the ground, before being knocked off his feet by a snaking lizard tail which created another uproar of laughter. Drink was passed to him and he took his seat amongst his fellows, relaxing and celebrating. Somewhere within the encampment music played, folksy dancing music, and up stepped Hokyu and Blitz to dance, Blitz bowed low and she feigned deep thought before pulling him to her and taking the lead. Nero and Thedas joined soon after, Nero spinning her from him at an impossible distance, she twirled elegantly each time, her white robe flowing as she spun nearly to the other side of the camp as Nero's arm continued to grow and grow and grow before she stopped and he snapped her back in an instant to press tightly against him. The couple laughed and continued their insane dance as others followed Hokyu and Blitz's lead.

Others stood on the sides and clapped in time with the tune, which was revealed to be coming from a regally dressed young man with blonde hair named Reynor, sitting by his pile of scrolls and playing a guitar that made such impossible noises, his hands moving at an equally impossible pace along the magical instrument to create the orchestra of a band. Flutes, lutes and all were played with enchanting duress and joviality. A certain red-headed pyromancer named Aisha stood at his side and bowed low in mock awe at his skills and offered her hand to him in dance, and with a grin he took it, and suddenly there were two of him. One held the hand of the beautiful mage before him and spun together with her in a circle, clapping and trading places with her in a fast-paced jig while the other continued its insane pace to play the night away. His blue coat flapping with each movement and his thick fine boots clicking together as he danced with the red dressed pyromancer.

KH4 immediately jumped in without hesitation, offering his hand to the black-scaled lizardman in mid-drink called Dominic who looked intensely amused by the act before grinning his sharp-toothed grin and getting up to dance side by side with the armoured creature. The mood was celebratory, lively, and everything The Nameless stood for. River slid his way in front of Charmeine and bowed low in proper etiquette, coming up with hand outstretched to her "Princess d'Autriche, I humbly beseech you to allow me a single dance with such a divine and beautiful woman as yourself, it would by an utmost honour." He said with a flourish, his leather jacket mysteriously discarded to leave him in his tight white tee, physically he was an Adonis and his eyes promised everything one would ever need, and more. The armoured creature known as KH4 observed them for a moment before returning to his dance with a quiet whirr of steam that sounded like a chuckle, River the Incubus had activated his charm, not many could withstand the magic of an Incubi.

Suddenly the black box unfolded into a large screen and displayed a runic number "4" and the party cheered, many coming to clap the musician on the back before returning to their celebrations. As they cheered Lazarus turned silently to Elena and bowed low, he removed his bandages from his mouth and offered her his hand with a grin "Care to dance?" He queeried as a black cloaked and masked woman did the same to Ivan, her femininity shown through her voice and small physique from behind the mask "My names Luka, shall we dance?" she offered shyly.

Meanwhile at Vinn's
Vinn stood before River and Kira, well aware River had sent ahead a clone for the celebrations. He sighed heavily and waved them over to the same door after the rest had entered, opening it to a small office with comfy red chairs as he clambered onto his behind the desk. The two took their seats and he hummed in deep thought before speaking "So, the pair of you know the rules so we've got that covered, River I need you to do a job for me. You need to realize they might not just remember on their own, you'll need to do something." He said, River rubbed his hair awkwardly and nodded "I know, I know, got plenty of work to do and all that. Gotta save the Multiverse from destruction etc....I got it." He said stoicly, getting up to leave before Vinn toddled in front of him to stop him at the door. "That's not all, I need you to keep an eye on her" He ordered, pointing towards Kira who was slumped and folding her arms in her seat "I didn't do anything! Why are you singling me out from the rest? I only just met you people after all, so why should I even help?" She complained openly.

Vinn just stared at her until she sighed and got up, standing next to River and holding her card up to her face "Guess you know more than you're allowed to give on huh? I'll stay away from him and help River with his job, if things don't get moving soon it'll be too late for me right?" She mused with a sigh, Vinn and River both nodded sadly and Vinn lead them towards the door before grabbing hold of Kira's wrist, what little emotion his face could show wrought with an internal battle "I know you can't stay away from him...but what if she's not there? If you continue down this road you'l-" He was cut off by her leaning down and hugging him, he hugged her back tightly and then she let him go and brought out a second card, one that was covered in red runes and tattoos and that held the name that had been over-written by her on her own card, and pressed it into his hands. "I know Vinn...but you know how this ends if I don't, just hold onto this card when it happens okay?" She said reassuringly and he nodded slowly, holding the card to his chest and waving them off. River reached down and took hold of her hand and the two stepped through the door together, breaking into a metal corridor and staring through a window at the scene below, the celebrations and dancing going on as Vinn sat silently in his office, staring at a singular name in red and knowing all it would cause him to lose.

River turned to her for a moment and started to open his mouth before she kissed his cheek and smiled sadly "It'll be alright, you're strong, you'll protect me right?" She reassured, stealing the words from his mouth, he squeezed her hand tight and put on his usual wide grin "You're damn right I will. We're not finished yet!" He cheered, which elicited a short laugh from her. The two hugged one more time in silence and then blinked into the celebrations, the clone replaced by his true self and Kira arriving next to Wayland with a grin and a short whistle.

"Look at all this, makes you wanna get drunk and wake up three days from now without pants doesn't it?" She mused, bowing low to him and staring down her upwards facing nose at him as she spoke "Oh dear sir Wayland, wilt though permiteth me this fine jig?" She offered, keeping her hand by her side in case he took it as a sign to grab hold of her, she enjoyed Wayland's company this was true, but physical contact wasn't in the cards today, dancing her thoughts away however was more than welcome as she let the music take her, her eyes settling past Wayland to another newcomer who sat amongst The Nameless, yet another recruit for the cause.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kira Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Mister Man
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A midst the curiosities that made up the multiverse the man currently sitting at the camp appeared the most out of place if for nothing more than his queer appropriateness for the atmosphere around him. Between metal skin and strange creatures wearing odd attire or being odd attire themselves Mister was but a human with overly thick skin, a stern posture and a face washed with shadow. When strangeness become commodity it is soon invisible, normality on the other hand was strikingly present here.


The silent figure was sitting before a clear table in a relaxed day-suit jacket with three buttons done up, hiding everything but the tip of his sand brown polo shirt. A flushed but mellow chalk red pasted his coat to contrast the grassy hills; all woven in a staunch material that held it all in smooth folds. His head crowned with an oak brown pork pie hat with a thin, red feather cropping out of the tip like a wheat plant. Cobalt blue jeans covered his leggings, showing off a bold paint yet lacking any shine or impact to their shade.


The table was bare of food or cups, no cards nor books and despite the lack of any eyes to look at he wasn't showing any focus or indication of interest to another patron for approach. This stranger who dressed as if he was cordially invited to this very scenario ahead of time and yet he partook not in one single activity you would come to such a place for. Even more out of place is the large rusty pipe sitting by his seat which appeared to have been plucked out of the decaying, stubborn, stable debris that made up the random derelict factories of the multiverse.


His head moved to look directly at Kira, if his hidden face did not signal his direction then his chin did and soon it moved to Wayland. It's a challenge to spot for even a keen eye but this man- whoever he may be- is scanning over the audience of Vinn's establishment as if to inspect them for something.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kira Character Portrait: Volga Argonar Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Mister Man
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It was hard to keep the dour mood he'd been building since the walk to Vinn's in the festive atmosphere that the nameless have wriled themselves into. Wayland grins as his new comrades are invited to dance one at a time, and let's himself drift into thought simply enjoying the breeze on the hill. Content to stand apart from the party, it wasn't really his speed. He thought to himself while tapping a foot in time to the music. It felt like returning home, and that scared him the same as it did when he was summoned, the alien feeling of triumph and an almost palpable since of FINALLY! That he couldn't put a finger on, nor that made since. When he put too much thought into it - red hot vomit surges into his mouth as white noise subsumes his mind, he gets a flash of blood red eyes, white hair, pale skin - He can tell it's a women, she calls his name. He can see and hear her as if from beyond a yawning gap of blackness before something wretched and cold drowns the image, and a voice of utter malice echoes through his soul in maniacal laughter.

Wayland turns sharply at the sound of a whistle, startled from his thoughts, the strange happening not far from his mind, he hides his apprehension by chuckling good naturedly at Kira's words and antics. He didn't tell her that if that were to happen to either of them it'd be her. He couldn't get drunk. Alcohol just didn't work for him. Letting himself fall into the music he tries to relax.

"is that an offer?" He asks licentiously. His mouth running away without him again at her musing about waking up without pants, he was never so brazen, and rarely so unreserved, so why was he like this now? It was a question he asked himself constantly around her, he couldn't help it, he felt - Hah, he didn't know how he felt, it was like he knew her intimately, but he knew that couldn't be true.

It was something that seemed to be happening more and more since he arrived here, especially around Kira, and every time he noticed, that same static would erupt in his mind, white noise where connecting thought should be, it was like he was having the thoughts of someone else, and they compelled him to speak It worried him, but he didn't let it show. Quickly turning his grimace into a grin he begins the only dance he knows, swaying around Kira, moving as if wielding blades. A sword-dance, it should've been obvious that was what he'd do, whirling like a dervish, combating numerous unseen foe. Moving in time with the music he lets himself go for a time, reveling in the motion, just content to feel like he belongs, taking in the scent of the world around him, and the woman he was dancing with that was both foreign and disconscertingly familiar.

Wayland eyes snap to the side as he feels steel approaching, stopping his dance to come to attention. Perhaps not surprisingly his eyes go to her sword first. Bøddel - 'Headsman' it was called, an apt name he could tell, Taking in more about the women than could be said in words at a glance, he lets it be seared onto his soul adding another weapon to his armory and another ally to his count. Grinning he eyes the scantily clad women up and down appreciatively as she approaches, not letting it faze him. He knew her too well now to let it get to him, considering life up until then - something as mundane as a half naked woman didn't even make him bat an eye.

Fire roars in his gut as cold spreads from the copy of Bøddel in his soul, awakening something ancient from deep within his soul, the hammer takes on a different tempo for a moment as his inner world shifts to something that is at the same time primative, but oh so powerful. To those sensitive to the soul it would seem like his erupted in power for an instant before returning to normal.

"Well met skjaldmær," He calls in old-Norse, calling her as skjaldmær, or swordmaiden in his normal tongue, not even aware that he'd switched languages, something inside him shifts as he grimaces shaking his head and returning to normal. Turning to Kira he grins, before wandering off to rest, suddenly weary.

His choice in table is less than random, as he picks out the quietest one with the fewest people at it. Its lone occupant a blessedly reserved man wearing a fine day suit that makes Wayland mourn the damage done to his own once fine suit. Snagging a bottle of something cold and clearly alcoholic he seats himself at the end of the table, not quite across from the man, but not so far away it would seem like he was avoiding him, grunting at his lack of cigarettes he takes a swig from the bottle resting his head on the cool surface of the table, before holding the bottle out to the man, as if saying: "Drink if you want."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kira Character Portrait: Volga Argonar Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Mister Man
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Volga raised an eyebrow at being addressed in the old tongue by one so formally dressed as Boddel chilled in acknowledgement that it was being identified. Revealing its name like many other named blades of its time to be for less than simple decoration. Volga however simply took this as the crucible steel blade fussing over the lack of frost as she had after first ascending to The Garden before striping down and charging at the enemy ranks. Her attention remained on the elf girl with heightened interest"Your friend are almost as surprising as you. I don't think I've ever seen a mage rush into the center of the enemy rank before. Most that I've seen cast from the back of a formation but not you". The redness remained on the tall woman's face but her words were starting to clear rather than slur "I can tell you're a caster with a warrior's soul. It must have been what allowed you to ascend with the rest of us". She leaned closer just outside of Kira's personal space and continued her praises as only someone that drunk was able before saying something that revealed her perception of the garden without a shadow of a doubt "I am glad to have the pleasure of meeting such a warrior in the feasting halls of Valhalla and I would be honored by the privilege of knowing you further". Her words slurred towards the end of her last sentence as she wobbled yet again using her sword like a cane.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Mister Man
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The Silent figure stopped giving his attention to any other patrons around him and rearranged his position to the man as he talks to the Nordic Warrior. A lift of his head defied physics as the light washed over his hat only to crash against the concrete wall of darkness; yet a buried grin slipped at Wayland display of ancient tongue. No attempt was made to hide his blatant stares as the stranger turned to look at him in his trek, his interest was without remorse or panic at the possible discovery of his examination.


He remains stoic in his posture as the man comes to sit next to him, indicating no nervousness or overt emotions besides that same grin that remained in the darkness of his face, a smile that quickly dropped into his stony and hardened blank slate when the bottle appears in his hand “I don't drink” The rejection is cold; featureless, with little inflection and overly loud but clear tone. It is the kind of voice that one theoretically should have if they were to talk with optimization for communication but yet it failed to translate even a shred of feeling to it.


Silence made itself a guest at the table as Mister continues to stare down the man before him, what is already an over bearing straight edge posture now towers over Wayland when he put himself into such a position, combined with his inaction it is quiet enough to hear the conversations of others around them. Old and young alike relish in the jubilee of life with stories unfolding before them from an elderly male figure shaped like crooked trees hiding his head in a mask hugs a plumb women with eyes the size of fists in reunion to an argument threatening to erupt over some philosophical debate across the field concerning religion and a little boy who has somehow has the beard of an unshaven 40 year loudly complains about his wife at the bar. This table is a ship of inactivity in a sea of life.


“You are apart of the Nameless” Mister says in a blunt statement that was posed like a question but dressed in a declaration with his loud voice “It is hard” he states simply as he looks down at him before letting some tiny prospect of happiness smuggle in his tone as he continues “But I will help you” and with that he places the rusty pipe on the table for him to see with a loud clank of metal against wood.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kira Character Portrait: Volga Argonar Character Portrait: Rosa Gerzon Character Portrait: Charmeine Lucifen d'Autriche Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: Anima Lumen
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Charmeine

Image

What was supposed to seem like a long trip was surprisingly short as Charmeine dwelt deeper into her thoughts every passing minute. It was nothing new; family, home, destruction. It almost felt like she was wrestling with herself; the past and the present constantly tumbling over eachother, as if they were trying to 'win' her mind. At least, that's how she would explain it. Soon enough though, she was snapped out of her little battle as the scenery changed. Grass rich with life, a calming breeze enveloping her. What just happened? To see this after such a dreadful war scene was incredible to where she could just cry. However, she wouldn't allow herself to do that. The only question she really had was why people were celebrating. Wasn't there more to come? Was this just some way to keep people calm? Alright, she has A LOT more than one question.

The whitette scanned the feast of food, licking her crackled lips. However, in her community, taking food that was not offered directly was seen as rude. However, drinks were always free to go around. Charmeine picked up a glass of alcohol, swirling it in its container with her pointer finger. She brought it up to her lips and took a pitiful sip, only to cringe and jerk the cup away from her. Of course, it ended up splattering across the ground, but at least the container wasn't broken. The Seraph let out a defeated sigh. Although it was such a cheap brand, it'd have to do. She was dehydrated.

The whitette took a seat away from the crowd, watching with a almost concerned expression. The way they danced, sang, laughed... this was nothing like the parties she would celebrate. She almost felt lost. It was obvious there were creatures from other rhelms, yet they knew how to fit in perfectly. Charmeine is used to calm music, detailed ballrooms, flowing gowns, and a formal dance. This... this was like chaos in a nutshell. The princess looked away from the scene and tended to her diamond-like hair.

Not many moments have passed by before a devilishly handsome young man offered her hand in a dance. She looked up to him with a raised eyebrow. How did he know her name? Was he perhaps a friend of Anima or Ivan? Her pale blue gaze slowly fell to his hand. With the way he had asked her, she thought that maybe it would be a little like her home's celebrations. Charmeine's questionable expression faded into a smile, happily taking his hand. Until...

Sssccchhh...

The whitette let out a painful cry and jerked her hand back. She clenched it in agony, only unwrapping her fingers to see what had happened. Her eyes widened in horror. Blite. Blite to Seraphs was like a ticket to death row for humans. If she is touched by any type of demon; phantom, incubus, succubus, etc, a painful 'parasite' will dig into her skin. It left a sickening blueish-purple color, and it'd slowly eat its way across her skin. If she is completely consumed, she'll surely die.

Charmeine watched as the Blite slowly but surely engulfed her fingers in that ugly color. She growled and stood up, wanting to slap him across his face; but that'd only poison her more. "My answer is no. Good day to you..." The seraph snarled, hugging her arms as a means of comfort as she left the scene. Thankfully, Blite was not hard to cure. A douse of holy water from a church or a shrine will heal it. It's just a 'deadly if left untreated' matter.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kira Character Portrait: Rosa Gerzon Character Portrait: Charmeine Lucifen d'Autriche Character Portrait: Allan Denton Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: Anima Lumen
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#, as written by duramon


Kira
Kira was impressed to say the least, frost was rare and unwieldy, it wasn't often she saw it in action. Although she hadn't expected such a direct approach she couldn't help but laugh and nod at her question. Perhaps this world wouldn't be so bad after all, good company, good alcohol, and only an unforeseen amount of eldritch horrors and their minions between her and the good life. Sounds easy.

She eventually extracted herself from the maiden of war and drunkenly spun, holding out her hand to the woman and pointing towards the very edge of the camp. "Come on then, we'll want a good spot for the fireworks!" She said with a gleeful grin, she'd spotted River walking off by himself and from what she gathered the box read out strength, so if he was going to be alone to do something the show had to be good.


Lazarus
Lazarus grinned and brought his hands up in a boxing style happy with her choice of dance. The Vampire ducked under the blows and sent two quick jabs her way aiming either side of her head before kicking straight up in front of her face and settling again. He settled into the pattern of the dance, dodging punches and blows and following her strikes and then returning his own. Slowly increasing the tempo of the spar dance until it matched the flurry of death he revelled in.

With each round of their dance he grinned wider and before he knew it his fingers were showing the first signs of excitement, glowing red pinpoints of flame that danced and left wispy trails of light as he moved, and so their dance became in his eyes exactly what it should be. Some of the other party goers had even stopped to watch the dance and a few of the more physical Nameless began to copy them, making a sloppy job and accidentally dealing glancing blows or direct hits with jovial laughter.


Luka
Luka had to hurry, there wasn't much time until the seals were gone and they came back. She ran out into the plains, trailing decay behind her as she went and pulling her clothes tight to her body trying to contain it for as long as possible. Eventually she reached a point far enough away and pulled off her head, letting the first wisp of green smoke float free as her fur and cat ears were free to enjoy the cool air. She waited for a few seconds and then it began, a column of green light roared forth from the base of her feet into the sky and within moments everything around her withered and died, the ring of destruction extending so far as to reach the edge of Lazarus and Elena's dance. Within the centre of the decay continued to stand Luka, and with a swing of her hand like a conductor green string-like tendrils extended from her finger tips to the ground, she had learned the quickest way to burn the energy was to summon it but each time she did she lost more control.

It seemed however she didn't have a choice, as the strands of energy met the ground and searched through the earth they were suddenly yanked. With a yelp of pain Luka held on, holding her hands in place and refusing to move, she'd changed her mind. It couldn't come out, not now, not ever, but it was too late. With slow painful yanks the first hand tore through the earth and dug into the earth, followed by another. Finally as the decayed ground fell apart what she had feared came to ground, he stood in a purple suit and was immensely tall, an obscenely tall crooked top hat sat atop his head and wild flowing black hair extended from under it. He wore white gloves, unsullied by his nap in the earth and a gasmask like breathing apparatus that he tore away liberally to reveal what marked him the most as something to be feared. No matter how you looked at him there was no face, there was nothing, just glowing orange eyes of some bestial monster and a row of razor sharp yellow teeth that grinned madly.

He took a step toward the terrified Luka and his presence seemed to permeate the very air around him, the sky darkened and without her consent the border of decay began to skirt into the Nameless camp with every move he made. He took in a deep breathe into nothingness and sighed "It's good to be home.".


Image


River
River could sense he was being followed, but he didn't care. He had decided to exit the party and show Vinn's test how The Nameless fought and for that he'd need to seal himself up anyway, it was Rosa who was on his heels, the cat girl. She may have felt some kinship or curiosity about him and his lineage and he would be happy to indulge her, but first he needed to remind The Nameless of who they were, and that would require more than words.

As he found an empty spot, he noted the beam of light that began from Luka and the ring of decay and knew what it meant. She had run out of time, she'd just burn it off and be back to her normal cute self, it was such a shame to be burdened at such a young age. He had offered to try and fix her soul if it was the issue, but something in her made her say no even though her eyes screamed for help, he had no choice but to accept her choice but had always wondered. As he continued to walk his body became slowly encased in a purple aura that waxed and waned like a candle in the wind, slowly growing and growing, before he could turn and warn Rosa something else caught his attention while his mouth was open. The sky had darkened and Luka's ring had grew and even from this distance he could feel the darkness that penetrated the soul of the creature she had summoned. He shrugged to Rosa and snapped his fingers "Sorry madame, I'll be back, I've got a bone to pick with this terrible lighting, ruins the mood so to speak." he quipped with a click of his tongue, and then he was gone.

Across the plain he landed, encased in his aura as he grabbed Luka, throwing her behind him unceremoniously as a gigantic wall of ice formed in an instant and became a cubed cage. The wall reached beyond the clouds above and was densely packed, without a single expression or even a sarcastic quip he threw a punch packed with his full strength at the man, no, the monster, Luka had brought back and to his surprise his fist stopped centimetres short of a white glove clenched in mid attack itself. Between the two hands was two fingers and an oversized wizards hat pierced by two horns stood out to River as he glanced at the interference, Vinn stood in his full glory, as tall as River was and in a tight black outfit that clung to his lithe body. All at once the power that had been contained fired back from the blockage, behind River an onslaught of unadulterated burning anger flooded the gigantic cube. An explosion of lord level power that cracked and buckled the gigantic ice wall as the purplish-red energy leaked out. Behind the monster was simply the shockwave of air that originated from his punch, air that tore apart the dirt and buckled the ice wall behind it much like Rivers soul-charged attack had. Vinn waited until the two lowered their hands and the ice wall crumbled and before it fell he shrank back into his tiny form, toddling towards Luka and putting a comforting hand on her furry head as he helped her up. He looked to The Nameless camp and then back to River.

"Sorry I'm late!" He chimed happily, waddling off back to the camp with Luka as his escort, comforting the teary eyed girl. The monster chortled and slowly lumbered behind the pair in pursuit, following his "master". River looked back at him in disgust and began to follow his friends before a dark guttural voice whispered through the air from the sickening beast. "You know you'll never find her...." The Incubus bristled bitterly but trudged on all the same, unable to do anything for now he simply walked back to the camp in silence. In turn the creatures smile widened and a horrific chuckle floated through the air. Step by step the returned monster began to clean up, his suit mended, the dirt had been blown away, his mask returned to cover his mouth and a cane found its way into his hands as he walked until he strode forth tall and confident while River tailed bitterly behind.

At the top of the camp, the box buzzed to life in a pentuple feedback of numbers. "8,10,10, 11,7" but this time nobody cheered, the party would have to wait for a moment.


Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kira Character Portrait: Volga Argonar Character Portrait: Rosa Gerzon Character Portrait: Charmeine Lucifen d'Autriche Character Portrait: Allan Denton Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane
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More for me, he thinks. Lamenting his inability to get drunk with every drink. It had been nothing but one question after another since coming here. This world, this Garden. The fighting didn't phase him. The death. The killing. Those things were nothing to him. They passed into and through him. One moment to the next, not burdening his soul for even a fraction of an instant. He would drown this world in an ocean of blood if that is what it would take. One world, for the fate of all worlds. Fair trade. He breaths out a long solemn sigh, smoke spilling out of his mouth, and from there escaping under his arms as it hits the table. Weighing the lives of the few against the lives of the many... Yeah, he was good at that.

"Get your head in the game, Smith." He growls at himself. His voice ragged, brittle around the edges like broken glass. He was beginning to doubt he even knew who he was anymore. He was comfortable here. That's what scared him. What set his teeth on edge. He was never comfortable anywhere. Not in a long time. He was a predator. A self wielded sword, poised at the throats of everyone around him. He was irreparably broken. Those were the facts as he knew them.

At least. Before he came here. Now. Now, he felt sluggish. Off kilter, like he wasn't all of himself. The familiar beat of hammer on steel in his head, in his soul. No longer as comforting as it should be. The tempo felt wrong, the echo of the steel tinny too his ears. The fire. Felt cold. Like he was used to the sun, and all he had for warmth was a candle. It had never felt wrong before, now he felt like a stranger in his own skin, he remembered things he couldn't remember and white noise bled into the space where the memories should be. Blackness gnawed at the edges of his soul, oozing like disease into a gaping wound in his soul he was only now seeing. Accompanied by the screams, the plea of his name from a womans voice into his mind. A voice that filled him with such a sense of failure and loss that it was almost a physical thing. And the laughter. Always the laughter. As insane as it was evil. Laughter that made him want nothing more than to set the world ablaze and drown it in a sea of swords. Alien feelings assaulting him in such magnitude that he didn't even know what were his and what were not. He grunts as molten blood dribbles from his nose, only to be reabsorbed a moment later. he shakes the feelings off.

Fishing the card from before out of his breast pocket he idly traces his name with his thumb, the jagged brittle lettering almost seeming to mock him. "Why do you distress me so." He whispers to the world. Barely registering the man who had declined from sharing a drink from him before looming over him. Until he speaks. Wayland's eyes settle heavily onto the man, talking in his features again from closer up. Wayland laughs. The sound as brittle and as sharp as the pieces of a shattered sword. He wanted to ask how he planned to help him, when he(Wayland) could not even help himself, then strange man lay his pipe on the table and Wayland's world came screeching to a halt.

With a sound like crashing steel, hammer glanced off the side of the anvil and the notice of a thousand thousand blades turned towards the source of the discord. It settled into his forge like a thorn but the hammer started again. It was something he could only just grasp, because the pipe that was not a pipe still held the concept of metal, and that put it in his purview, if only just.

A rent opened where it touched, into shadow and nothingness and fire screamed forth to meet it. But, how do you burn chaos. Beasts moved beyond the shadow, stalking along in the wake of the dark. Twisting this way and that. Their movements incomprehensible to a mind built on structure Too many eyes, too many legs, too many arms, too many heads. They peered into the light, eyes curious and amused. Mouths filled with too many teeth smiling far too wide their ruinous hunger clear to all, and still the hammer carried on, the beat slow and heavy as if unsure, but every echo of steel carrying a note as inevitable as the tide, and ever so slowly his world twisted to find a place for them. Somewhere in the dark, away from the others they settled, ever watchful, ever patient and ever hungry.

Wayland came back to himself with a low roar. The sound like someone raking through shattered steel, but there was an undertone now. Something alien and unfathomable. Color and sound come rushing back all at once, it takes him a second to realize the lack of noise and he takes it as an excuse to be away from the disconcerting man, and his pipe that was not a pipe.

As he stands he realizes the feel of the air had changed. A chill seemed to have settled into the world and there was a feeling... Like, something familiar, something that shouldn't be familiar, something that. Could. Not. Be. Familiar. It set his teeth on edge. Made his blood flare in heat, his eyes coming to glow with inner light as his core respond to the sudden unexplainable hatred. He rakes his vision across the assembled people, all the while a constant growl comes from his mouth with every exhale, accompanied by copious amounts of choking ash and smoke, the growl slowly growing louder as his breath comes faster and faster. The sounds like tortured steel, like death, swords piercing flesh and the screams of those dying. The noise in his head almost deafening as the hammer strikes faster and faster.

He stalks forward almost against his own will, the grass curling and turning to ash from the heat being emitted by his body, leaving smoldering footprints in his wake. He moves toward the people coming down the hill with purpose he can't fathom. The box buzzing to life as he passes, flickering between "1-2", but the number are like shadows upon the screen, as if not really there but any looking could see them. His eyes scanning those returning, raking across Vinn and Luka as if not seeing them, glancing across River until they rest upon.

"You!" He roars, voice echoing across the hill like the ringing of blades. A taloned finger pointing at the thing in the suit and top hat, the heat rolling off Wayland's body making portions of his clothes catch fire, and the ground in a circle around him to burn, the air distorting around him. As he Points right between the twin orbs of orange light sitting in the middle of shadow that were its eyes. The shadowy numbers on the box ghost higher, flickering between "3-4".

"I know you." His mind, his very soul rebels against the statement, white noise and static deafening in his mind but it's met by the roar of fire. Fire that burn even him with its brilliance. It makes even the laughter stop, until it starts to howl in anger and for an instant he can hear laughter like the tinkling of bells. A sound that lift him up in ways he can't explain before he's drowned in the roar of the flames.

"I hate you." But I don't know why... The thought is poisonous, bringing the static back to his soul. His anger is like a physical thing, pressing into the back of his eyes. Willing him forward, willing him to shred the grinning monster before him as his voice carries across to those assembled. The heat from his breath so great that it was almost heavy, the shadowy numbers on the box creep ever higher, flickering between "5-6".

Words flee him in a rush of heat, with a clashing of hammer and anvil, a roar of fire, a thousand different battlecries, in a memory of steel. He's confused, terrified of his own mind. He does the only thing he can. He roars long, and he roars loud. Leaning towards the abomination before him, the creature hiding behind a smile. His taloned hands splayed at his sides ready to rip and tear, his feet set to fight, to charge into his enemies. The sound is different than before. Like a monster, a dragon made of swords and steel. Ash spills from his mouth as he howls, settling to the ground before him. Blanketing the grass that isn't already burned, the heat wave that follows after blowing it away from him. And the box ticks up a final time, a shadowy "7" appearing before Wayland simply stops. Toppling backward to stare at the sky, clothes smoking, his body cooling rapidly as the glow leaves his eyes, his soul/mind in turmoil trying to, once again reconcile itself. The numbers disappearing at the same time, the box goes dark.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kira Character Portrait: Volga Argonar Character Portrait: Rosa Gerzon Character Portrait: Charmeine Lucifen d'Autriche Character Portrait: Allan Denton Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane
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#, as written by duramon


Vinn
The furball that was Vinn strolled towards the party, or more, waddled, one hand holding Luka's comfortingly as the other two trailed behind. Vinn eventually waddled his way to the box and sat Luka down to relax, patting her on the head good naturedly, as Thedas and Nero came to her side to comfort and offer aid. Apocalys and River stood at the very edge of the camp, both of them stared at the flickering ghostly numbers and grinned wide fanged grins for entirely different reasons, Apocalys would not reply to Wayland's assertion of hate instead he would continue to just grin. River eventually noticed Rosa's current state amidst the unfolding events. He took tentative steps towards her and let his ears and tail swish up and out, crouching low and holding a gentle hand out to her to try and coax her into calming down.

With an awkward cough Vinn clambered on top of the box with the aid of Nero's outstretched arm and began what seemed to be a prepared speech "Hey there folks! I uuuh..apologize for being late, I'd like to introduce the ex-leader of The Nameless, Aizen, or Apocalys if you'd prefer to use his real name. He'll be leaving very soon...right?" Apocalys laughed and waved him off, but the look Vinn gave him said that staying wasn't an option. "Now then....the way this world works is simple, guilds or cities create terms for a "Game", that can be anything from betting on cards to a tournament to the death, and The Wager. The Winner or Winners gets the wagered prize and raise their standing on the guild ladder, the ladder is determined by The Garden itself and the difficulty of the wager and the game. By determined by The Garden, I mean that the place you are currently in, and will be for the foreseeable future, is in fact a living entity. It runs this worlds laws, it monitors the games and it is what keeps the lords here cycle after cycle." He paused for a moment to take a breath and let it sink in before tapping the box below his feet.

"Currently The Nameless are on even terms with everyone else, in exactly two months the first guild game commences and usually the lords would awaken...this cycle as you already know, they're early. In those two months you must achieve one thing, and that is making this box read out a 1. This box takes in every factor of ones power, whether your strength is physical, magical, healing or toughness, it will take it into account and give you a general reading. This level is a basic term, if somebody achieves a higher level that does not mean you cannot beat them, keep that in mind. To survive and participate in this game however...I'm setting the minimum, without achieving a reading, you will surely die."

Vinn wobbled off of the Box and pointed to Apocalys "Right, now begone!" He commanded, Apocalys grinned and shrugged, winking at the terrified Luka before dissapearing in engulfing green flame, Vinn coughed awkwardly and adjusted his overly large hat.

"So....uhm..oh right! The Game! The upcoming game is a tournament, you will be randomly given an opponent and a match time, each win is two points, each loss is no points, each draw is one point. Before you get excited Blitz, the rookies will be handling this tournament, with supervision, the rest of you grab a number and move out! Not that I don't trust you guys, but with the Lords awakened so early we can't take any chances. The Tourney will be fulll of new people and guilds so its the perfect opportunity to get used to this world and its rules, you'll be staying here for the month but feel free to enjoy and explore the city while you train. I think I've talked enough, so I'll save some of the other stuff for the end of the month!" He rambled on, as he came to a stop he held his hands behind his back, as if waiting for any questions.

Finally he clicked his fingers and the camp was surrounded by a myriad of doors, each with a name or a label on it, one for each person, a workshop, a kitchen. Vinn was footing the bill for training, and each room was custom built for its occupant, if two people entered the same door they'd find their rooms merged for that time. Living and utility rooms however would be universal, the rookies would have to learn to live together.


Kira
Kira grinned and nudged her Viking companion "Told you it'd be quite a show, too bad about the following monologue. How about we get wasted and start on our own 'training' lover mine? I saw a rather busty angel floating around the place who might be worth checking out....entirely professionally of course~" Kira jested, cupping her hands in front of her chest suggestively at the word 'professionally'.

She wrapped her arm around Volga's and cheerfully, and quite sneakily, lead her towards the tent she saw Charmeine enter before the monologue began.