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Rasteva

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a character in “The Rend”, as played by Rasteva

Description

Name: Rasteva.
Age: Currently Unknown.
Species:Daemon.
Appearance:
Image


Anyone catching sight of Rasteva for the first time would naturally assume them to be a living individual clad in a towering suit of armor. This assumption proves to be mostly false as Rasteva is neither alive nor truly dead, further still the armor they are 'wearing' is very much a part of their physical form.

The armor in question is of a make and material not seen anywhere else, and stands several meters tall. The Daemon's considerable size can make using doorways a bit of a moot point as they cannot fit through mos of them. Unsurprisingly and to the chagrin of more than a few , Rasteva has been known to walk face first through walls in order to get into buildings.

Rasteva's "Head" is what makes up the Armor's helm. A single glowing "Eye" can be seen in the Helm's visor, and often moves from side to side of its own accord. The 'Eye' in question is not used for sight, but a more of a prop to allow anyone interacting with the Daemon to know when they are being directly addressed by them. This of course means that Rasteva does not make any facial expressions, and anyone interacting with them will have to suffice with vocal cues in order to understand their moods.

Clawed Gauntlets are what Rasteva uses for hands, and are surprisingly dexterous. This allows the Daemon to preform delicate tasks the same as anyone with regular hands.

Rasteva does not require food or drink in any matter, though they will sometimes partake of one or both in a social setting for the sake of being "Polite".

As a result of lacking any true physical characteristics, or more likely because they simply are not a true living being, Rasteva does not have an actual gender. They simply either refer to themselves in the Third Person or as "This one." Humorously Rasteva can be referred to as either male or female and as they show no preference for either, this often leads to confusion for many surrounding them.


Personality: Rasteva's imposing stature, and rather terrifying appearance cause people to be wary of them at best. At worst they presume the Daemon to be an actual monstrosity bent on harming anyone crossing their path. Such reactions are not new to Rasteva and they have grown used to them, making no effort to correct anyone on the matter unless absolutely required to. This has led many occasions where the Daemon has engaged in battle long before anyone has bothered trying to speak with them. Inquiry reveals that Rasteva is far from malignant, only doing battle with anyone perceiving them to be a true Demon solely because they cannot be bothered to correct anyone on the matter. This means that Rasteva is more likely to make enemies than friends, and the Daemon often cares little for changing another's perceptions of themselves.

That aside, Rasteva is somewhat even tempered if a bit indifferent. They make no direct effort to cause harm to any around them, and are found to be quite well mannered. But getting their help in most matters is a bit of work as they can't see much reason for doing so beyond personal interest. Truly this makes reading Rasteva's true intentions difficult as the Daemon only ever does something because they either "Feel like it" or "Want to see what happens". There are a few that worry if the Daemon would outright turn on everyone at some point, for reasons only they truly know. Rasteva is quite confident and self assured as most of their kind tend to be, and is not prone to doubt in themselves. While a bit difficult to get on with sometimes and not one to shy away from throwing insults, the Daemon firmly believes that all beings are capable of greatness and feels it is a simple matter of finding it within. As such they are prone to making grand speeches in order to lift the spirits of the downtrodden. Results are very mixed.


Powers/Weaknesses

Sturdiness/Heaviness: Rasteva's armor grants them incredible resilience in combat, and as such conventional physical attacks do little to harm them. Because they do not posses any organs, or bleed in a conventional manner, Rasteva can shrug off major injury with little consequence. Loss of limb has been observed in battle and does very little to slow the Daemon down. It is currently unclear whether or not the Daemon's physical strength is a result of the armor they wear, or a natural gift bestowed upon their kind, but it is difficult to deny and even more difficult to stand up to.
Rasteva's armor and size makes them exceptionally slow and cumbersome. Faster opponents can typically run circles around the Daemon with relative ease, causing them to trip up and potentially leave them open to assault. Rasteva is also incapable of swimming, and putting a large enough body of water between them and their target gives one ample time to plot.


Stamina/Aversion to Magic: Rasteva is not a completely natural being, and their body does not posses the limitations of an organic creature. This allows the Daemon to be practically ceaseless in battle as they require no rest, or even air. A favored tactic of Rasteva is to "Buckle Down" and simply bide their time through an onslaught of attacks until their opponent becomes too tired. Should the Daemon go on the offensive, they become a nigh unstoppable Juggernaught, incapable of tiring and excessively difficult to stop.
Because Rasteva has devoted almost all their available power to strengthening themselves physically, the Daemon is unable to fend of most Magic based attacks. It is speculated that Magic directly harms the essence contained within the Rasteva's armor, and Magical assaults of enough size and strength are required to effectively stop them.

Battle Prowess/Single Minded: Daemons are effectively immortal, as many Supernatural beings are. This has allowed Rasteva to amass a respectable knowledge of all things related to warfare, and they put this knowledge to great use. A Master of Arms, Rasteva is adept in the use of bladed weapons, but will fall back on hand to hand combat should they find the necessity.
Despite being well versed in battle, Rasteva will sometimes reach a state of "Tunnel Vision" meaning that the Daemon will focus solely on what is in front of them. This stubbornness is especially easy to exploit should the Daemon be pitted against what they consider a worthy adversary. This allows reinforcements to flank Rasteva and launch an attack without them noticing.


Not a Demon/Not quite Divine: Because Daemons are not in any way related to traditional Demonkind, they are not subject to Summonings or Banishments. Rasteva will often use this to their advantage and allow opponents to 'Bind' them to their will. Once the person's guard is sufficiently relaxed, Rasteva will launch a counter attack.
While not Mortal by any means, Rasteva is perfectly capable of being destroyed and subsequently killed. Their armor is merely a vessel for The Daemon's essence, and should it be destroyed Rasteva will dissipate. This can be forgone by finding another vessel to inhabit, but a sufficient one is required if the Daemon is to defend themselves at all. This also means that Rasteva's essence can be captured in a vessel of particular design, rendering them incapable of doing anything.


Smokescreen: Should the Daemon need to flee for whatever reason, they will begin venting an odd black smoke out of their armor in massive clouds. This cloud obscures Rasteva from view, allowing them to make their retreat. It can also be used at close range to disorient foes and allow the Daemon to launch a counterattack.
The smoke within Rasteva's armor is only a finite amount, and as such sizeable leaks or ruptures within the armor can become an issue if not tended to within a certain amount of time. Rasteva's Smokescreen especially weakens them after use, and if the Daemon is unable to make a clean escape they will be considerably weakened.


Siegebreaker: Rasteva unleashes a massive and focused beam of energy from the mouth of their helm, capable of toppling buildings. The effects are wholly devastating, and there has never been a recorded instance of anything able to stand up to it. It is unclear how Rasteva is able to use this ability, though some speculate that this is a pure and concentrated manifestation of the Daemons's life force made into a weapon, but there is no doubt to its power. The Siegebreaker has been seen few times in the course of the Daemon's existence, and it is described as being nothing short of terrifying.
Siegebreaker, while utterly devastating, comes with a very clear set of stipulations required for its actual use. Foremost, it has an incredibly long charge time, and cooldown. The charge itself takes upwards of 12 hours, and cannot be willingly halted at any point. Siegebreaker must be used at a distance, as Rasteva is unable to do anything once they begin focusing their powers. Should the Daemon fall under assault they will be unable to defend themselves, and Siegbreaker's charge will be halted. Because it requires Rasteva to tap into all of their available power, Seigebreaker effectively cripples the Daemon. This perhaps, is the closet the Daemon will come to sleeping as they become immobile and unaware to outside stimuli. Recovery is known to take several days. Because of the high cost of using it, Siegebreaker is used ONLY when every other option has been previously exhausted. Rasteva will be forced to make a retreat and launch their assault from afar, often while under cover to avoid notice.

Historical Background:
Daemons have existed in this world and on many others for as long as there have been Gods, and their exact origins are hard to pin down. Cultures the world over have different names for Daemons, the most popular of thse being 'Djin' or 'Familiar'.

Despite sharing a namesake with the more 'popular' Demons of Myth, Daemons are neither inherently good or evil. Their ambiguous nature can leave many wary as their true motives are often up for debate. In actuality a Daemon's ambiguity is in reality a 'Default setting' and all of them are driven by an unknown and all consuming impulse to discover their true nature. Defining it only as a drive to be their "Complete Self", it can range from each Daemon becoming either a complete monster like the Demons they share a namesake with, or beings of complete virtue.

When not confusing people the world over, Daemons are most often found meddling in the affairs of Mortals. This can be something as innocuous as helping an individual with a chosen task, or something a bit less harmless such as giving people portions of their own power to see what happens.

It tends to go about as well as one would expect.

Daemon's are Incorporeal by nature, though they can interact with objects and other living things in a given reality. They adhere to the laws of Physics for the most part, and can suffer injury and feel pain the same as any other living creature.

Daemons do not adhere to a particular hierarchy, with the only distinctions being that some are more inclined to Magical use, while others focus primarily upon physical forms of combat. Appearance also varies highly from individual to individual, but it should be noted that a Daemon's Physical form and their 'Soul' are two separate things despite being part of the same creature.

It is entirely possible to destroy a Daemon's Physical form, and capture their 'Soul' within a vessel. This further perpetuates the idea that Daemons are related to Demons, though the former cannot be summoned, bound or banished. A captured Daemon may be subject to the whims of the person that owns the vessel, but it should be noted that a Daemon cannot do much without a proper body.

It should be also noted that Daemons that find new bodies after being captured against their will are quick to enact revenge.

Currently: At present Rasteva has been thrown into an unknown God's 'Game'. Stripped of their power, and bound to this God's whim, the Daemon is less than pleased. Only time will tell if they survive the coming trials. But Rasteva has made it their personal mission to tear the God in two the moment they regain their power.

So begins...

Rasteva's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezenvare Queem Character Portrait: Knight Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Madison Lovette Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Makorai Saika
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Skip III took Drake's failure to respond to his verbal jabs with pursed lips but unusual patience. There was so much going on to occupy his attention that he figured his unwilling foil could wait.

He listened to the exchanges, the tantrums, catching himself up on the situation, valiantly resisting the urge to run and pet Dog or Fell. Or Eze. Or anyone else with scales, feathers, fur, or tails. His patience held, for now.

Rasteva was saying something about showcasing skills.

First order of procedure when he was to be spending extended amounts of time with a new team... Skip checked his pocket. Still there. Probably not enough for everyone, but, he fished out the small plastic container and popped it open as he spoke.

"All right, I can spar," he volunteered, smiling at Stride broadly. He held up one of the small pills from the container and danced over to the masked woman to give her the gift. "I'll try not to produce any gamma rads, because ya know, nonlethal, but uh-- You should probably still have one of these. Actually--" He looked around, pouring the lot into his hand and beaming like nothing was at all alarming, "You should probably all have one." He passed one to Madison and the rest of the huddle by the puddle, smilingly giving Cain an extra for when their drowning victim recovered. To the man who had fallen from the sky, "Hi, I'm Skip the Third, you missed it. Welcome to not-the -afterlife. This'll keep you from getting thyroid cancer." One for Dawn. One for Amos. Not one for Drake. Drake came back to life. One for Makorai, with an apologetic edge to his smile because Skip knew Makorai was among the majority of Erubescans who avoided him like the apocalyptic plague he was. "Um no guarantees about other kinds of cancer. Except there's uh--not enough, but..." He counted the remaining iodide blockers. Three remaining. Everyone in the arena except Drake, Eze and Rasteva had now been handed a pill, and then there were the three scouts when they returned...

Skip looked at Rasteva. "Do you need one, Legion?" he asked, unsure about the suit of armor's mortality status.

He handed one of the remaining three to Ezenvare.
...And now he was so close. Whether or not it was offensive did not even cross his mind. He couldn't resist giving the reptilian man's scaley neck a pet.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adira Hasidare Character Portrait: Xinder Ouquid Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Khojin Malqir Character Portrait: Amos Character Portrait: Skip III
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The toppling of this mighty polearm was met with the same indifference he cast when shooting it free of it's prison of ice. Well, until he remembered that the ground beneath them was slick with rain, which would cause the mud beneath to rise from the ground and covered whomever was unfortunate enough to be standing next to it.

Amos's agility was perhaps prematurely highlighted when his backward maneuver took him backward some ten feet in a single motion. Rasteva's thanks were given a slow nod in reply. The gesture was understood by the multitude that inhabited the armour. He was placing his stake with the bolder in their number. Fortune favoured the brave and stupid, or it didn't. It didn't make a lick of difference to Amos. He didn't come here to walk like a dog with its tail tucked between it's legs. Not to say he wasn't cautious. He simply wanted to teste his mettle in a foreign world.

The conversations continued for a while longer, and new arrivals continued to phase into this stream of reality. One particularly slow one had been struggling in the slop. He imagined someone would help them. He didn't plan on making the effort to do so. Too many bodies on one task made it's completion difficult.

When the armoured one asked about powers, he stayed quiet, not out of fear per say, but the particulars were often hard to explain. "I can be useful." Was what he settled on, quiet enough to warrant the smallest of acknowledgement.

The prospect of sparring however, raised an interested eyebrow. Sparring would be interesting. He could cloak his bullets in concussive energy to make them non lethal. Perhaps.

Or perhaps later. Two of the people he had decided to travel with had already, joining one of the first.

"Sparring ain't a bad idea, but perhaps we should head out as soon as we finish and stake our claim 'fore we splinter off much more."

Amos turned to the eminent and took the pill he passed him with a nod.

"Ayup, thanks."

Amos the organic half-cyborg turned his red eye to this boy, in particular his insides, which practically /danced/ with the life rending energy that made Geiger-counters tic tic ticikty whenever it was around.

"Lookin' forward to a bit of sparrin'." Amos reached forward and gave the young man's shoulder a small squeeze and shake, both friendly. He didn't seem like the type who minded. If that sniper kids reaction was anything to go off of, folks were probably scared to touch him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adira Hasidare Character Portrait: Knight Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Makorai Saika Character Portrait: Skip III Character Portrait:
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"Whi-" When Adira's body moved from the spot he had been ogling her in it was as if...a spell or enchantment had been broken. With a mirage like shimmer he watched the breasts he had once lauded as a pair of the ages regress to a more proportionate size. The flimsy top that had cradled the twin beauties was replaced with cloths of a more practical nature. 'What the hell just happened' 'I must be thirsty.' He thought. Makorai's thirst was one that couldn't be quenched by water alone. Nay, it was a thirst that required a drink from a different pond.

Despite the decrease in her chest, Makorai still appreciated them for their subtle nature. Their firmness spoke of inner strength, their horizons hefted by Atlas the corset..

Makorai blinked once, and rubbed his eyes with his free hand, which moved down from his face pulling the skin down with it for a brief second. Kora had summoned him back from the pits of desire, right as the other girl had left the arena.

"Oh yeah. Front..front and center." He turned to his friend with a slightly pained expression on his face, trying to gather enough mental semblance to make a patented Makorai response.

"I'm at my breast don't worry." The sniper blinked. 'Okay Makorai'

He opened his mouth to speak again, but in a similar fashion to before, he found the words stuck in his throat. The Kora of the front line was gone, as was the battle fatigues she was wearing. In it's place was the skin of slain enemies, so casually draped around her rippling form that her curves dipped where the skin was exposed..

"SHIT!" Makorai's body jolted suddenly when Skip approached him, his voice more jarring then Kora's had been when it came to exorcising the thoughts from his head.

"Yeah, sorry man. cool thanks Skip." It wasn't the most winning smile he flashed to Skip, but it was an effort. Cancer and all. He wasn't sciency enough to understand anything about radiation, and safe levels around him were suspect at all times for him.

They were talking about sparring of some kind. Yeah. No. Sparring was out of the question for him. Trick shooting on the other hand..

"I can show off my shooting skills if you guys pick targets, or throw things in the air, whichever is best."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adira Hasidare Character Portrait: Knight Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Makorai Saika Character Portrait: Skip III Character Portrait:
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"Whi-" When Adira's body moved from the spot he had been ogling her in it was as if...a spell or enchantment had been broken. With a mirage like shimmer he watched the breasts he had once lauded as a pair of the ages regress to a more proportionate size. The flimsy top that had cradled the twin beauties was replaced with cloths of a more practical nature. 'What the hell just happened' 'I must be thirsty.' He thought. Makorai's thirst was one that couldn't be quenched by water alone. Nay, it was a thirst that required a drink from a different pond.

Despite the decrease in her chest, Makorai still appreciated them for their subtle nature. Their firmness spoke of inner strength, their horizons hefted by Atlas the corset..

Makorai blinked once, and rubbed his eyes with his free hand, which moved down from his face pulling the skin down with it for a brief second. Kora had summoned him back from the pits of desire, right as the other girl had left the arena.

"Oh yeah. Front..front and center." He turned to his friend with a slightly pained expression on his face, trying to gather enough mental semblance to make a patented Makorai response.

"I'm at my breast don't worry." The sniper blinked. 'Okay Makorai'

He opened his mouth to speak again, but in a similar fashion to before, he found the words stuck in his throat. The Kora of the front line was gone, as was the battle fatigues she was wearing. In it's place was the skin of slain enemies, so casually draped around her rippling form that her curves dipped where the skin was exposed..

"SHIT!" Makorai's body jolted suddenly when Skip approached him, his voice more jarring then Kora's had been when it came to exorcising the thoughts from his head.

"Yeah, sorry man. cool thanks Skip." It wasn't the most winning smile he flashed to Skip, but it was an effort. Cancer and all. He wasn't sciency enough to understand anything about radiation, and safe levels around him were suspect at all times for him.

They were talking about sparring of some kind. Yeah. No. Sparring was out of the question for him. Trick shooting on the other hand..

"I can show off my shooting skills if you guys pick targets, or throw things in the air, whichever is best."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Knight Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Dawn Memoli Character Portrait: Helena Character Portrait: Cain Merrano
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Kora, assuming her help was not immediately required, watched the bossy girl and her dragon leave with the one with the face-gap. Ostensibly for scouting, but she did not entirely trust them to return.

There were other options, but that would involve having to negotiate with the filthy terrorist about flying up and getting an aerial view and she was not sure she was really a good person to do so... even if they could trust what he'd got to relay.

She idly listened in some capacity to what Rasteva had to say. She was not exactly feeling terribly amicable considering that thing had just tried to kill her not a few minutes previous, but its suggestion seemed solid enough. Better people knew how much they'd been nerfed now than end up getting screwed later on.

Though she didn't think she really wanted to try her own to their limits.
Kora didn't really feel dramatically different. Indeed on the yard stick of magic and immortality, her abilities were pretty much one trick ponies. But they were ponies that did the one trick pretty effectively, and it was a trick that once started, wasn't really something you could stop. Powering up berserkergang wasn't like a switch on and off. Once you invoked it things tended to get pretty intense.

Ripping an enemy combatant in half at the waist with your bare hands was very useful in a battle situation, but was frowned upon in a friendly scenario.
"I'd be happy to do it, y'know, assuming this homicidal tin man doesn't try and chop me in half again, but no powers here. Don't want things to go sour."


Just then, she received one of the iodide pills, and rested it in her palm for a moment, watching the young man rushing to hand them out..and he appeared to be coming up a bit short. Her expression grew a little more sober for a moment.

"Hey, uh, Skips, you might as well save mine for somebody else." she stated, rather awkwardly holding it back out to the radioactive gifted.
"Cuz uh....y'know..."

Mostly because thyroid cancer had a five year survival rate of about 90% and Kora had a five year survival rate of about 0%.


----

The oddly dressed figure, now pulled out of the puddle, pushed herself onto her front, curling her knees underneath her and coughing up some water fro her lungs onto the stone floor.

From there, she went quiet for a moment, resting her forehead against the floor, eyes shut. Silent. Water seeping out of the ragged layers of clothing.

Then, the young woman spoke, quite clearly...if rather cryptically.

"There are wolves in the sand. Blood sinks and bones rise. A step you take can't be taken back. Even if you cover your tracks the sand will always know that you walked there."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezenvare Queem Character Portrait: Knight Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Amos Character Portrait: Skip III Character Portrait:
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"Okay, sorry, my mistake," Skip said with an agreeable nod as Rasteva introduced themselves.

But he was lying.

Rasteva was Legion now. Once christened by Skip, the nickname was almost never to be revoked, a name stuck to the victim of Skip's friendship like chewing gum to a school girl's hair.

Plus. With the plural pronouns and third person address, it was too damnably fitting to pass up.

"And, um, it's not just fighting me. It's anyone who has to get in radius, if I have to cook anything. Or anyone. Or I could just...stand really far away. Which is what I'll probably haveta do once those wear off." His expression fell for a moment, but the thought of being alone couldn't hold up to the exciting novelty of the day and he was soon grinning again. "Anyway. I'll save these two for the scouts, I guess."

The young man pocketed the two remaining pills-- meanwhile positively beaming both at Eze's trick with the fin, and the staggering, to which Skip said, "Bit too much to drink, Scales?" and still entirely in the way one would talk to an animal, as most Projects Skip had seen with such inhuman characteristics tended to take on animal intelligence -- and beaming even brighter at Amos' rare moment of friendly physicality. People didn't usually seek out contact with Skip III unless they were wearing hazmat suits. Or were healers. Or were damage-tanking viking women with already short lifespans.

Speaking of...
three pills left again, as Kora handed him hers back. He gave a brief look at the thing and a nod and a short eye contact with an uncharacteristic amount of feeling.

"Anyway. I'll fight anyone who needs to fight somebody. I'll fight you, Legion. Or the Sundance Kid. Or any of you. Or both of you at once. Just don't accidentally kill me. Can I ride Scales?"

He adjusted his lemon yellow scarf and scampered to a free patch of ground, assuming a footready stance. Other than not dying, his qualms in a fight were pretty low. He couldn't feel pain and he was inhumanly quick, if not very strong. And he wasn't especially empathetic if he did end up causing some damage, so all the better.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Cybergoeth Character Portrait: Skip III Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Cybergoeth has been watching the goings-on in the arena for quite a while now; a silent, watchful figure waiting in the shadow. She'd seen the tension between the winged boy and the warrior woman, witnessed Rend's power-reducing retribution, and the departure of the two women intent on scouting what lay outside. She'd tried leaving when the water woman had made her own departure, but Rend had seen fit to block that, leaving her as trapped as the rest. Eris would doubtless be enraged by the entrapment of her agent, but it was a distant concern. Eris could use a break from her "game".

The glowing man - Skip the Third he'd called himself - was the first to draw her into action. Perhaps Eris was rubbing off on her, but his radioactive state had kindled a spark of curiosity in her; she wanted to see him in action. She replaced her mask, causing her dreads to appear as part of her outfit rather than her genuine hair, and lowered her dark-lens'd goggles over her eyes before taking a single step, finding herself instantly at Skip's side. She had little doubt the radioactive warning symbol on her mask's breathing apparatus would catch his eye.

Image


She tapped Skip on the shoulder, then called out to Rasteva. "Can you see a way up there?" She gestured at the stands surrounding the arena pit. "If it's a tournament, only those fighting should be down here, and only during their match." Her voice was distorted and mechanical through the mask; another idea of Eris's. She thought it made Cybergoeth scarier.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Knight Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Phoebe Stride Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: John gray Character Portrait: Cybergoeth Character Portrait: Skip III
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Most would feel themselves a bit disconcerted at the prospect of being told they would face against someone claiming to be a walking radiation pile.

On the same hand, most weren’t too keen on running, metaphorical guns ablazing in this case, into battle with a variety of other beings from different worlds- especially when another of the participating combatants was a literal suit of armor, with no obvious flesh or weak points to be seen.

Stride took the pill between gloved forefinger and thumb, regarding it with the same amount of casualness one would a typical over-the-counter medication. A pain-killer, for instance, instead of something made specifically to keep the user from getting poisoned by gamma rays. In the back of her mind, the fighter mused whether or not taking it was necessary, or if she should simply be noble and offer it back up again. One of the perks of her bloodline was various odd little bonuses here and there- quicker reaction time, for one, or the fact that she hadn’t really aged all that much since about twenty years ago. There was a chance that she could have some sort of resistance to radiation, but, then again, her body seemed to like screwing her over whenever it saw fit. For all she knew, she would end up getting some hyper-death-cancer or something.

So, deciding not to risk it, Stride reached at her mask’s fabric with one hand and dragged it down, revealing the same snow-white skin as that on her arm, a few patches of scales here and there, and, as she popped the pill into her mouth and swallowed dry, a flash of fang.

The mask went up again, just as fast, and the woman nodded her appreciation to the little glowing guy. “Thanks, Smiles.” After all, while she didn’t exactly know the effects of thyroid cancer to a t, cancer typically didn’t come with sunshine and rainbows and giant fluffy sheep falling from the sky. At Rasteva’s affirmation that no weapons would be used in the battle, Stride began to unconsciously flex her hands, then, more consciously, move to pop her knuckles.

“Are we also supposed to not talk ‘bout the Fight Club?” Stride drawled. Even if the magical armor didn’t get the reference, it was still too good of an opportunity to waste, really. Makorai’s bringing up of his shooting skills after brought a bit of a chuckle from her- even in alternate worlds, it seemed, he was trying to overcompensate with something.

As time passed, more people began to volunteer for a round or two, with Kora being an interesting exception. There was Smiles, Iron Man, and now Robocop and some random chick cramping the gas mask style. While some part of her was aware that going up against the more solidly built volunteers (see; the people made either completely of metal, or mostly) would be a difficult task, another part of her was still revving for the opportunity. Taking down the Terminator would probably earn her some massive amounts of cred, after all, and as Rasteva continued to be...well, Rasteva, Stride continued to grow more impatient.

“Hey!” She called. “Stop showin’ your balls off to Kora; we got shit to plan out!” She paused, listening as the armored figure went on to say that all non-combatants should go up to the stands- something that was probably true, given that there were going to be a few faces punched, and she doubted that some of the more...pacifistic-looking types were too keen on getting hit for no real apparent reason. However, that brought up another question, something which Stride found herself voicing in the absence of anyone else.

“So, uh, is this gonna be a whole ‘Battle Royale’ type-a deal, or will it sorta be two people out here at a time?”

Asking the important questions, here, really.

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Character Portrait: Xinder Ouquid Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Khojin Malqir Character Portrait: Cybergoeth Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Khojin made a grunt of acknowledgement at Adira's departure, her eyes fixed on the horizon, trying to scan for the bridges Xin had mentioned. She was close to giving up when she finally spotted them; a series of thin brown strands, swaying like snakes in the breeze. She couldn't make out the landmasses at the other end, but confirmation the bridges were there served to back up Xin's statements.

"How many d'you think there are?" she asked, turning her eyes from the distant pathways. The fact there were multiples at all bade well for her insistence on splitting into teams; if Rend had intended for them to do so from the start, she'd have to remember to let Rasteva know she was right some more.

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She looked back up at the stands, gauging just how high the wall was. Fifty meters, maybe? Certainly low enough that she could Blink up there. Blinking while transporting someone else, on the other hand... After Rend had nerfed the stronger ones, Cybergoeth was a bit hesitant to try anything significant without prior testing. There was also the issue of finding someone to test with. She doubted there would be many volunteers, considering the end result could be... messy.

Rasteva's "offer" to throw people up there raised another possibility. Perhaps if the armor could toss one in the air, she could Blink up to catch them and then do another Blink into the stands? That was assuming she could even chain her Blinks that quickly or accurately, let alone that she could do it without leaving half her passenger behind.

She felt it would be best to explain these possibilities to the others present, finishing by asking if there was anyone willing to volunteer. and apologizing preemptively for any possible deaths which may occur from the aforementioned scenarios.

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Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Madison Lovette Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Dawn Memoli Character Portrait: Helena Character Portrait: Cain Merrano
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Cain, seeing that the girl was fine enough for now, called back instead to Madison. "Does anyone recognize this landscape, then? Because it looks sorted like the ashland, but less ash and destroyed buildings!" He was then addressed by Drake, and he looked evenly at the younger boy. "Yeah, so did she." he said, indicating Dawn, making it sound like he was speaking of the mind manipulator's belief that he himself had died, instead of the fact that he had long ago predicted Drake's fall in battle but had been gone from the group before he could do anything to change that future. "I wonder why, it's not like you left me alone in unknown condition in an irradiated mansion with not even a note to say "We're heading south west to Helton" or a pack of supplies to get me through the separation." there was no bitterness in his voice, though, only an odd pensive quality. "Say, can you still do your revival thingy? Coming back form the dead and all? Or did you already lose that?" rather blunt, but honestly, the boy would learn soon enough that his immortality was temporary.
In the meantime, the suit of armour declared a tournament, and Cain stood up. "My abilities are stabbing people, luring people into dark alleys to stab, seducing women into dark alleys to stab, haven't used that one in a good many years, interpreting prophecies, indestructible shields, seeing the future and no promises on those last two, because Rend decided that it's no fun if I can predict the plot. I won't be participating, thanks." he then settled back down as Hel began to speak, and nodded along, understanding perfectly. "But it is a rare thief that shares jam made of stolen fruit, much rather would he hoard it all for himself." he replied. "Wolves hate fruit anyway, and sand might remember, but if drowned it can't speak." he patted her on the back. "My name is Cain, miss. What's yours? One of you get her bag." he then instructed the two gifted he had travelled with once upon a time.

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Character Portrait: Adira Hasidare Character Portrait: Xinder Ouquid Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Khojin Malqir Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Xinder Ouquid


The little girl seemed just as distracted Khojin was by the bridges off in the distance. However, she was the first of the two to break from the trance of trying to spot the bridges with nothing more than there own eyes. Primitives. She then said something about a Rasteeeva. Xin shrugged as took in the view again, waiting for his little box to go beep beep beep.

Then Khojin spoke again. Speak of the devil. Xin smiled slightly at the thought of the resemblance between the two. She wanted a guestimate of the number of bridges. Taking a moment before replying, Xin said "As many as it takes to either kill us all or please our inexperienced god."

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Character Portrait: Adira Hasidare Character Portrait: Xinder Ouquid Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Khojin Malqir Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Khojin chewed her thumbnail, musing. It would be better to investigate these bridges before the time came to use them, but she got the gnawing sensation (not unlike pointed teeth against the hard part of her thumb) that Rend may take issue with that. If they were going to see the state of the bridges, it would be when they arrived to cross them, and not before.

She swung herself up on to her feet in one fluid motion that at one point had her entirely off the ground. She stretched, hearing her spine crack and pop, then returned the armor sphere to its place on the front of her coat. There wasn't any point continuing to stare at the horizon, and Adira would doubtless be back with Rasteva (and possibly others) before long, so she figured she may as well get a full grasp of where her abilities stood at present.

She moved a couple paces away from Xin to give herself enough room that she could work herself out without endangering him or his equipment. She took a deep breath in and out, then began stretching her legs before something occurred to her. She quickly removed her armor sphere again and tossed it to Xin; she didn't want to risk any kind of interference for this. She also took off her coat, giving a small sigh of relief as the tightness around her chest was removed and her large, previously-bound bust was allowed to breath. She tossed the coat over to where the armored man sat as well.

Freed of any possible constraints, she rolled her shoulders, did a couple squats, and then kicked off the ground hard enough to create small clouds of dust where her feet had been just a moment before. She gazed at the ground, counting how high she went before reaching the peak of her jump and beginning her descent. She made a small noise of discontent after her feet made contact with the ground again. A twenty-fulm vertical wasn't bad, certainly not compared to others, but she could do better. She gave three small hops, each no more than a few ilms off the ground, then, when the bottoms of her boots were flat against the ground after the final hop, she bent her knees, one hand on the ground, and jumped as hard as she could.

The desert fell away beneath her. Off to her left she could just barely see the top of the Arena, and she gave a shout of victory as she began to drop back to earth. A cloud of dust greeted her as she hit the ground, and she coughed a couple of times before it cleared. "How high was that?" she called to Xin, looking up to where she'd reached the peak of her jump. "Between thirty and forty yalms, do you think? Toss that rock, I wanna see if I can hit it."

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Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Madison Lovette Character Portrait: Vladimir "Verge" Moonfall Character Portrait: Skip III Character Portrait: Azai Character Portrait:
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My, there was so much happening. All around people were talking about battling each other and testing their abilities. He did not find any appeal in that. He had just marginally missed being thrown into the arena in his own world. There was no way he was willingly going to participate in this fiasco. He didn't have much physical ability and he wanted to keep what talents he did have secret from these people. Though he did come to realize that no on here was indeed going to hurt him, he didn't trust them. He straightened himself completely and made a show of dusting himself off, loosing interest in most of the others around him. They were all strange to him but he only took real interest if they themselves came over to him.

He looked between the cross dresser and the human with the shadow creature. Thus far they were the only two that took an interest in him so they would have to be watched. Why were they interested in him? There were other manner of creature here that were far more interesting than him. He crossed his arms and gave them both a fanged smile. He was momentarily distracted when one of the others came to him and offered him a pill. He accepted it and rolled it between his fingers. He didn't want to just swallow something. The man said something about being radioactive but he didn't really know what that meant. What if this pill was the real threat? He did note that others had swallowed the medication but just as many didn't. "Thanks," he offered before pocketing the pill for now. He'd decide if it was worth it later.

"I won't participate in this battle royale thing you are doing. I find it quite the bore. And that lecture sounds even more so. I'll pass thanks." Hell, maybe he'd be lucky and they'd all kill themselves. Fights like this never went well in the end. He would leave, but if there was a desert outside, staying in the arena sounded more appealing. There were walls all around and could choose a better vantage point. The desert sounded hot and annoying.

The spider turned his attention back to Madison and Verge then.

"I'll leave the dresses to you. You do look ravishing in it," he grinned. "And these aren't tattoos. They are natural markings," he explained to Verge. "Did you want to touch them?" he asked suggestively and let one of his fingers trace one of the lines on his exposed abdomen. He couldn't help it. He loved flirting with others and see how far he could get them into his tangled web before they realized their mistake or good fortune, depending on whether he was actually hungry or had a deeper desire.

Azai walked over to one of the bags on the ground and picked up the one that had fallen on him earlier. He didn't know what was in it but if it was something useful, he wanted to keep it. "I'll go to the benches," he said then to the two interacting with him and walked over to the wall. One his way, he made sure to reach a hand out to caress them both. He tossed his bag over the tall wall and easily climbed over it thanks to his sticky hairs and dropped down on a seat. He rested his feet on the row of seats in front of him and pillowed his head with his hands, effectively stretching himself out a bit.