TerminusEst13

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  1. ((She says she's scared of the boards))
  2. Church crossed two more names off on the board. He hesitated, though, as he looked at the loser bracket, pen in hand. He twirled it in his fingers as he thought. There were twelve loser spaces available. And only three losers actually there. It would be hard to create a good match with just a pool of three teams to choose from. He frowned--a mis-matched matchup would mean poor morale for the fighters, and thus they wouldn't fight well, and thus viewers wouldn't be interested in the fights. Poor ratings meant poor money, and right now, money was everything.
    Church pocketed his pencil, leaving just one name in the loser's bracket. He would wait and see how the other matches went before matching up others.



    Scordatura lay in her room--she had appreciated Tom's offer of privacy, and took it quickly. The room was pitch-dark--she had turned out the lights, erected mental barriers inside, as well as interdimensional barriers. She ate in silence in the darkness, wishing she was able to ingest a meal THROUGH her armor, instead of having to remain private every now and then.
    Specifically, she was eating a cheeseburger--the grease and fat would be burned into adrenaline and energy, which would definitely fuel her later endeavors.
    She had known exactly what was going to go on in the match--or, at least, she thought. She would be able to pick up Zealstorm's hiding with her suit's visor, but she had underestimated Droxiin's "boys" and her abilities. That had singlehandedly caused her mess-up--with darkness clouding her visor, she wasn't able to aim straight.
    It was kinda hard to give any semblance of damage if you couldn't even hit somebody. She was powerful, but her Awesomejutsu style, while flashy, was very wild--her flailing hindered her accuracy, and extra help to down that...really hurt.
    She just hoped the next crew she faced would let her hit something.
    "CHAAAAANGE, COMMANDO!"

    The door to the Keep Yourself Alive room opened up, and Scordatura in full armor strolled out casually.
    "There ye go, lad. Thank ye fer lettin' me eat in peace, I really 'precciate it...I'm gonna go outside an' kick summa those bags."



    Kairaishi had set up a miniature, portable TV in the room. It wasn't fancy, but it was enough to get the job done. He had specifically recorded his and Aki's match against Burning Insanity. He was arrogant, callous, and prided himself in his victory--or, at least, he gave the facade of it. Those who knew him, though, could understand just how ruthless and thorough a strategist he could be, and what better portrayal than of a lecherous and aloof idiot to throw people off-guard? He was looking over his previous work now--he had made mistakes in his strategy, as all people do. Problems had risen on the fly, and he had made wrong split-second decisions. Some decisions cost him his life.
    He frowned as he looked over the moment of Schizo hurtling him into the air effortlessly and back down to the ground with a WHUD, while the archmage blazed into him. With his neuroarmor, he was more acrobatic than that--he just hadn't reacted fast enough against the throwing, and that had cost him.
    He tilted his head to the side as he watched Schizo scrambling his neuroarmor commands, sending his puppets into a confused frenzy. He had a Break Free override command then, why didn't he use it? That was another mistake that cost him.
    He steepled his fingers as his eyes narrowed, watching over the rest of the match. There were also plenty of times in which he was able to do things, but was busy reeling defensively from the onslaught. He was a strategist, dammit, he should've been able to counter such an onslaught.
    With just a blink, he pushed the thought out of his mind. Self-disgust would get him nowhere. Cold, hard, analysis was needed.
  3. ((Due to a lack of everyone showing up Friday, there'll be multiple days we do this--Wednesday at 6 EST, Friday at 6 EST, and Sunday at 5 EST. If there are any objections, PLEASE let me know))

    Church took a look at the billboard that was displayed in the main floor. He tapped his chin in thought with a pencil, then crossed out Ancient Darkness' name, moving Knight Lost and White Frost ahead a step. He then inscribed Ancient Darkness' name in the very first Loser Bracket spot.
    It was actually a tie, rather than a victory. The duo score was 3-0 VS 2-1, both adding up to three frags each. And yet, Moonscribe had insisted that the duo of Morgant and Celia be spurred ahead.
    Church shrugged. Moonscribe had an aura of knowledge about him--he knew what he was doing. Maybe he was planning upon all of the easier opponents going into the Loser Bracket. Then again, how could he possibly know that? After all, he was just another metahuman. Like so many others in the city. Really, he was of no importance.
    Church shrugged again.


    Morgant pushed the pictures of Moonscribe and Lyden to the side, into the trash can. That was one group down. He sat on the bed and steepled his fingers in thought--there was no clue as to what the next group was. He would simply have to wait and see.
    What if he had to face Cypherr, though? She was a friend to both him and Celia. Morgant frowned. He would have to wait and see what happened. But, in the end, his wish and her wish were important. He would never back down, even for a friend.



    Kairaishi was in the kitchen, having been there for a while--his entire torso was buried in one of the fridges, digging his way through left and right. The Kabuki were studiously standing behind him, keeping watch over their creator as he dug his way gluttonously over the food.
    "Mmph...chinese...General Tso's Chicken...Sa Cha Shrimp...Garlic Sauce with Lo Mein...oh, hey, look, pizza!"
    He quickly withdrew his body, mouth stuffed with sausage logs, noodles of lo mein, some shreds of chicken, and beef strips, and two large boxes of pizza.
    "Mmphhh--pizza, th' 'ood o' chammons!" He muttered as he struggled to chew and swallow all that was in his mouth. He flipped open the boxes to take a look at what was inside--the first box contained chicken, mushroom, and sausage topping, while the second box contained garlic, liver, spinach, and tomato.
    Kairaishi blanched as he swallowed the last bit of food in his mouth, closing the second box. "Who the hell puts tomato, liver, and garlic on pizza? Oh well..." Grabbing a bottle of crushed red peppers, he proceeded to sprinkle a drizzle across the top.

    A few seconds later, he was back in their room.
    "Knock knock. Pizza delivery."
    He laid the fresh-heated pizza down on the table, opening up the box and reclining on his bed, the Kabuki waiting outside with their eyes as alert as ever.
    "So...our first opposition is Burning Insanity, a Dominator-class and Blaster-class." He lifted his arms up in a shrug, grinning behind his mask. "I hacked a few databases for information on them--apparently Schizo can control the mind as well as various spiky thorns, while Burning Brawler has lots of fire blasting goodness with some ice manipulation to back it up. Now...if that one lady Perma taught me anything, it's that ice is pathetically weak offensively, so I doubt the Brawler has any good, close-range attacks. I can web him, glue him, and he'll be aaaall yours, while I deal with the schizophrenic. Sound like a plan?"



    ((Scor posting later, worktime now))
  4. The gaze upon Scordatura was met and returned. He had simply gazed upon her, but that had alerted her radar and caused her to return the glance. She quickly vaulted up from her position--she seemed fond of jumping and leaping around at least. With a single bound, she lunged over to his location and landed with a WHUMP on the boat railing he was standing in front of. She stood there on simply one foot, other leg lifted up and crossed in front of the first to make a 4, arms spread wide to the side.
    She said simply one word at him. "'Allo."
    Tomanton snorted as he glanced to her, eyes half-narrowed, as any other skeptic would. However, if it were possible, her visor would recognise something very different about his gaze- the placement. He was not looking at her visor, but beyond it- to her eyes, and making contact. It was impossible to see through to the person behind them, of course- but he knew it wasn't just a soulless machine. Still, of all the things she may have done, this he expected the least. "..That was prompt."
    Scordatura seemed addicted to flipping, though, and promptly let off another leap, bounding over his head and landing directly behind him dusting off the arms of her armor, then turning around to face him. "Well, lad, when people're oglin' at me, I tend tae notice it. Though I'd like tae think yer admirin' me technique, I've go' a feelin' it's summat other than tha'. So, wot's up?"
    "First, they didn't invite you here because you're from the circus." He said flatly. "Second, distracting as it may be, I've seen enough to know that there's a good chance that your style will complement my own- attention off of me is paramount to my work. Finally," Said the red-skinned extraterrestrial prince to the blue-clad henshin warrior, "...We appear to be worlds apart. I highly doubt your wish, whatever it may be, will be at cross-purposes to mine. ...I think we would do well together."
    Her head tilted from side to side, a loud crack echoing out from underneath her armor. "Speed. Swiftness. An' power. Ain't nae any substitute fer them, lad, 'cept mebbe silence an' grace. If attention's needed off o' ye, lad, then believe me, I'll be more than happy tae take it from ye." She extended her hand to him. "Team. Ye can call me Scordatura."
    "And I am called Tomanton." He met her hand with one of his own, shaking firmly and bowing his head slightly. "I won't regret this venture."

    Church made special note of each contestant--he noticed that some were automatically aligning themselves with their allies, but he noticed that some preferred to stay by themselves. He stroked his beard...it was against the nature of some combatants to be aligned together. They simply preferred to work alone, for whatever reason. He shrugged. That would be all right--he would simply force them to be aligned. They would either work together, or be eliminated. They would observe their opponents in action, or
    All of them came on board--some had to be ushered, though, and Morgant's answer to Cypherr was cut short by his motorcycle and both riders on it being magnetically yanked over to the ship. The coming, though, was short and sweet. Without much ado, as the combatants all mingled in one tight group (some, of course, looked far more uncomfortable being in the middle of a group than another--such as Shade, who seemed to prefer being at a distance, and Essex and Hal, who were both now cast adrift in a sea of [censored]), Church stood in front of them all. He crossed his burly arms, snorting as he looked over them all.
    Wishes. Desire. So easily manipulatable. Everyone had a desire they wanted, and they were willing to entertain the masses simply to get a chance for these desires.
    The ship slowly pulled away from the docks, and Church stood in front of all of the combatants. He said nothing, but simply hefted what appeared to be a large screen in front of everyone. It was covered by a thick black sheet, obviously to cover what was inside of it. With a no-nonsense yank, it was quickly pulled off, revealing a typical tournament-esque bracket ladder.
    Everyone blinked at the middle.
    A team of two AND another team of two versus two teams of two? A four-on-four? They signed up for a two-on-two tournament, not one with a four-on-four ending! Church, however, said nothing, simply waving his hand to dismiss all of the combatants, and taking the wheel of the ship once again, continuing to sail to Abbot State Penitentiary. The Carlucci family apparently had their reasoning. A reasoning that would be apparent and learned once they reached that stage of the contest--after all, they were simply combatants. They had to follow the rules of this game, in order to become eligible for their wish.
    Underneath the billboard was numerous cards, each of which with their team name on it, and the competitors underneath. Not everyone had been social and had made a team, but those who did and those who didn't were now aware of who was on their side and who wasn't. Only one person was going to be there to watch their back--the rest would be more than willing to trample over them to ensure their own desire.

    Team: Knight Lost and White Frost
    Sir Morgant/Templar Morgant
    Lady Permafrost/Baroness Frost

    Team: Eternal Hope
    Hallucinogen
    Essex - Reploid S6

    Team: Viper Corps
    Agent Rulaag
    Ozell One

    Team: Burning Insanity
    Burning Brawler
    Schizophrenias

    Team: Cutting Wit
    Jason Collier
    Cortianna

    Team: Fire and Brimstone
    Blazing Angel Akiko
    Kairaishi

    Team: Speed
    Tam Khat
    Dousojin

    Team: Backstab
    Ally Khat
    Blightlord

    Team: Ancient Darkness
    GSR-Lyden
    Moonscribe

    Team: Might Makes Right
    Dread Rosalind
    Brutish Ghoul

    Team: Cat and Mouse
    Shade Panther
    Cypherr

    Team: Keep Yourself Alive
    Scordatura
    Tomanton

    Team: Sleep Junk Down
    Zealstorm
    Droxiin/Droxide

    Team: Metallurgy
    Tragic Error
    Solid Shot

    Team: For Great Justice
    Danica
    Painpipe Weilder

    Team: Team Tundra
    Ramier Khastrovitch
    MYSTERY CONTESTANT

    Everyone looked at Ramier strangely.

    ((Okay, here's how the fights work. Each set of rounds will be held every single week, on Test--much like the practice CCC sessions, all together, so that everyone can watch. Practice for as much as you want, and then settle upon what will be the "real" match. Once it's over, either send the results to me (preferably by forum PM) or rematch IF THE MAJORITY OF FIGHTERS agree. Ten minute matches, small inspirations only, no temporary powers.
    Have extra fights with people if you want, or unique types of fights afterwards--just remember, this is entirely RPvP, so feel free to banter before, after, or in between matches! Insult your opposition, give tips to the opponent you just creamed thoroughly, try to talk your opponent out of matching with you--anything and everything, RP is prevalent!

    HOWEVER. The matches will be held on test, but I'm curious as to a good date which will be good for all of us to get together for exactly five weeks in a row. Times I think would be good are either anytime past 5 Friday EST, or anytime past Sunday 6 EST (despite that Fight Night starts at 8 EST). We can, however, change this event as per a weekly basis. What times are you all free, and what times would be good for you?

    In any case, once you are on test, PLEASE enter the channel "Invasion of the Board". And please make sure it is enabled in your chat tabs, so that people know you're there! ))

    The trip only lasted for a few hours--and upon docking on Carnate Island, Church was to the point. He ushered everyone out and through the front doors, onto the main floor. It was still a penitentiary, and still had the gloomy atmosphere of a prison, but everything was entirely renovated and cleaned up to resemble a motel of sorts. The main room had exactly 16 cells, with the bar doors sealed to turn into actual doors--each cell had been revamped to resemble a very, very miniature hotel room. Two beds, a single dresser, a miniature fridge, and two tables to put personal belongings on. It seemed none of the combatants had packed anything or brought anything with them, but it was the thought that counted.
    "Each team will share a room." Church said. "If you must destroy the property inside, please feel free to, but we would appreciate it if they were left in one pile."
    He then pointed to a table that was in the middle of the room, with a small piles of 16 pieces of paper on them. "Maps." Was the only word he said.
    With only that, he quickly left.



    Kairaishi looked at the room, then looked over at Akiko. It was fairly roomy for a cell, but he thought about his Kabuki--they were his personal bodyguards, and followed him everywhere. And they would take up a lot more room than he and Aki could probably handle. He smiled as he looked back over at Akiko. Hell, she was his teammate--she'd be watching his back, so he'd just dismiss the Kabuki when in the room. But right now, though, he would be relaxing just a bit.
    He strolled over to her and gave her a few good pats on the shoulder, tilting his sakkat-covered head to look around the main floor. "Geeze...this place is pretty huge. It's a wonder what elbow grease and hard work will do, huh? Originated from a prison, and now it seems like it's almost a four-friggin'-star hotel. They're treating us like royalty, dammit--well, I know we kick [censored], and all, but still, it's not every day you just get shipped to a well-stocked place and told to go wild." He nodded, the brim of his sakkat bobbing in front of his eyes, quickly readjusted back into place with the thumb of his free hand. "Hey, I'm gonna go grab us something to eat--you in the mood for something hot and spicy? And what're you gonna do while I'm gone?"



    Morgant had went straight to his room, silent and determined. He almost stormed there, in fact, carrying a backpack along with him that he had brought and marching into his room. He slung it down to the ground and promptly unzipped it, sifting through clothing, armor, and ammo for Vangelis to reach photographs. He had carried a miniature camera with him, and was snapping pictures of the combatants left and right.
    He flung a whole pile of them on the table, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he sifted through them--he knew who he was going to fight now. Lyden and Moonscribe, who formed the team "Ancient Darkness".
    He sifted through the photographs he had taken of them. Lyden was athletic in all of his movements, suggesting a hardened hand-to-hand fighter. He even had the muscle to show it, but it was specifically focused around his hands. A boxer, perhaps. He always seemed to be...gloomy, dark, and a little withdrawn. Because of this, he guessed that he would have darker powers--edgier people were often like that. He didn't know if Lyden classified as a Brute, though, or a Scrapper. Hmmm. It was a mystery needing solving, and fast, if he was going to plan how to deal with them.
    Moonscribe, though, was an enigma. All of the photographs taken had shown him in positions as if...he knew exactly what he was doing. Every moment, he knew what was happening, when it was happening, how it was happening, and what WOULD happen. As if he controlled the outcome. The knowledgable types often put themselves back into the roles of buffing and supporting, so Morgant assumed that this strange man would be a Controller or a Defender. Or perhaps a Mastermind, with his minions hidden.
    He shook his head, his long hair slapping across his face.
    He was focused, dammit.
    He was finally getting a chance to have his greatest wish realized--and though he didn't know Celia's wish as well, he knew that she would likely have one she desired throughout her entire life.
    He was NOT going to lose.
    Not on his life.



    Scordatura looked around the entire prison, her eyebrow arched from behind her visor. "...A smeggin' prison. Wonnerful. Who cares if it's polished up an' cleaned up, it's still a prison. Wot are we, prisoners? Ye can polish up a lump o' feces an' plate it in gold, but inna end, it's still smeggin' feces." She shook her head--she shouldn't have been complaining, after all, it was a lot better than being left outside and not able to compete...but she was still more than disgusted by her holing up in a punishment area often reserved for the worst of the worst. She wanted nothing less than to be associated with them.
    Tomanton's view of the place they would be staying was much more placid. Crime was a problem that was spiraling out of control- to abandon any such containment facility for any reason could not possibly have been on a whim. Perhaps it was because it was on such an inaccessible island- and he truly hoped that was the only reason. His own disgust at how crowded the facility would turn out to be stemmed from what he was simply used to as royalty- but that too was in the past, and it was something he would never bring up- not voluntarily, at least.
  5. I love this explanation of abilities.
  6. Virtue is the unofficial RP server, but with the good comes with the bad ("mature RPers", and the like).
    There's a population of other RPers spread across all of the servers, but Virtue is known for being the main "hub", of sorts.
  7. Anyone know what the sounds for Pocket D's "music" are?
  8. Holy thread necromancy, batman!
  9. ((Team: Fire and Brimstone
    Member: Blazing Angel Akiko - 50
    Member: Kairaishi - 29))

    Kairaishi made his way onto the boat, already chatting happily with his teammate, who followed. Both Akiko and Kairaishi were acquaintances, and both were incredibly interested in the thrill of combat. The kabuki simply continued to trail behind quietly, though Reiketsu kept his eye on both Solid Shot and Sir Morgant, snorting underneath his mask at them both.
  10. ((No Jordan Norris ever signed up. A Jordan Vailo did, but no Jordan Norris. If Jordan Norris wanted to compete, he should have signed on as an alt of Vailo))
  11. (([ QUOTE ]
    "Wait a minute, what are you doing?"
    "I am going to get into a fight, the likes of which I have not seen in nearly a century."

    [/ QUOTE ]

    I'm sorry, but I must wonder how you managed to make an entire sentence only with the letters B, A, D, A, S, and S ))
  12. CRAAAAWLIING IIIIIN MY SKIIIIIN
    THESE WOOOOUNDS THEY NEEEED RESPIIIIIITES
  13. Morgant had unholstered Vangelis, lifting the rifle over his shoulder and brushing off the runes, which glowed the dim red they normally did--Vangelis was a living weapon, an ancient artifact, and it was just as trigger-happy as its wielder was. It could sense the prospect of combat nearby, and it wanted, no, DEMANDED dibs.
    "Why 'tis simple, Cypherr...a wish holds great power. And we intend upon using that power to our total and full ability."

    Church's eyes were closed and his arms crossed as he listened to the combatants mingle. Already, there were alliances forming. Good.
    At Tragic Error's question, he didn't even open his eyes, but nodded simply. "In the arenas, kill, defeat, or maim as you want. Out of the arenas, keep the attacking each other to a minimum, and no permanent injuries."
    He then cleared his throat. "COMBATANTS! Please make your way to the boat, so we can set sail to Abbot penitentiary."
  14. Oh, my.
    Oh, oh, my.
    Oh, oh, oh, my.

    Yes.
    Yes.
    Oh yes.
    Oh ho ho ho ho ho ho yes.
    Hell yes.

    It has everything I love. Personal tragedies to spur the hero further, a tie to mythology, a rising-up-from-a-bad-history story, an unwavering duty, and plenty of little skips for me to fill in nooks and crannies. It's like you went right into my mind, took everything I loved, and merged it together into one major slew of badass.
    I love you, man. In an entirely heterosexual way, of course, but I still love you.
  15. Hmmm...this sounds like something interesting. All right, I'll bite. I've had a character idea for a while that I've been wanting to develop, but just haven't been able to think of something good for him. Let's see what you can do.



    Name - Anonysmo Dragon is his ring name, and it is the name he's adopted for use everywhere. Nobody knows what he looks like underneath the mask--nobody even knows his real name. A mysterious, masked luchador to the very end. Anonysmo Dragon is a luchador, a wrestler of lucha libre, a high-flying and dramatic fighting art that focuses on rapid applications of moves, holds, and attacks--referred to as "shoot" style.

    Screenshots - ANONYSMO DRAAAAAGOOOOOOOON. About 7'5" in height, though I'm thinking of lowering it.

    Origins - Anonysmo Dragon is pure, complete, entirely natural. His fighting style is derived entirely from training and from his wits, as well as his racial abilities. He shakes his head at people that require outside help of some sort, be it via weaponry, gadgets, or magic. He accepts them and holds no grudge, but he thinks it's best if people develop their own abilities and powers, rather than having to rely on things to do their work for them.

    Powersets - Fire/Stone Tanker, with Super Jump as a travel power for typical lucha libre high-flying attacks. MAYBE Fighting for Tough, I'd need to see if I have enough room. The Fire and leaping ability is a part of Anonysmo Dragon's race, able to amplify their body heat until it overloads and has to be expelled from around them. The Stone is simply Anonysmo Dragon's training and chi focusing around his fists, causing his blows to, well, hit like a rock. I'm just RPing the rocks as not there, heh. Tough is...well, because he's tough. If you live life as a wrestler, you take a LOT of blows.

    History - Ever since he was just a baby, he was fascinated with combat. He loved fighting. Loved it. He would always get in trouble with parents or with teachers because he was constantly picking fights with other children--he tried his best to keep them safe, so that there was no actual danger from his blows, but he still got into trouble nonetheless. He was raised participating in several martial arts schools, and he was constantly sparring with other people. When he was still a kid, he learned that there was an official sport that revolved entirely around fighting (pro wrestling). He was overjoyed, and quickly started to learn about grappling and holds, intent upon being the best wrestler there ever was.

    However. This is where I fall short--everything needs a reason. Why did he decide to be a good guy instead of a bad guy? Thirst for power often leads to wanting more power at any costs, so why did he go good instead of evil? Why did he decide to be a superhero of his kind, trailing forth and crushing bad guys into the dirt? Why did he decide to go out of the ring and into the city?

    Style - Serious, definately, but still with some tongue-in-cheek way-too-dramatic elements.
    "Kayfabe" is a wrestling term, and basically means "keep pretending it's real, no matter how stupid, corny, or cheesy things get". This is exemplarified the most in lucha libre, where high-flying moves full of flash are prominent, and over-dramaticized fighters between good guys (represented as actual superheroes and crimefighters) and bad guys (represented as thugs, vicious villains who would like nothing more than to squash justice). Some notable luchadors, such as Blue Demon, actually have made movies out of their superheroic adventures, fighting against "real" monsters like the mafia, Dracula, mummies, wolfman, and even Satan.
    He's a friggin' luchador. He's had feuds with people named El Badguyo, Squid Hitler, and Black Rorschach. The entire thing is crazy, outlandish, and more than a little eyebrow arching. People are expected to go "...are you kidding me?" at some of the things represented in Lucha Libre.
    No, we are not kidding you. Anonysmo Dragon has DONE all that [censored], and he is here in Paragon City to continue doing the plain unbelievable.

    The Kitchen Sink - Every wrestler has to have a theme song, and this is Anonysmo Dragon's.
    Anonysmo Dragon has no desire or thought for romance--he prefers to focus entirely upon his training and GREAT JUSTICE.
  16. ((Hum. Deadline has been extended, since less than half of the people are still without teams. New deadline is January 8th))
  17. You apparently have a weak idea of "tried". He's got numerous, numerous "story" topics with equally crappy stories, bumps them to get replies (which is against forum rules), and has an arrogant, self-righteous attitude. And I didn't even do anything in the first place, all I asked is if he was done yet. Take that as you will, but there's nothing the least bit aggressive about that.

    Also, thanks for the laughs. I haven't been told to go "shut up" so many times ever since 5th grade.
  18. [ QUOTE ]
    Both of you shut up

    [/ QUOTE ]

    Say please!
  19. ((1: Like I said, screwing over waiting for people might be a wise thing to do. Otherwise, it'll take a month just for everyone to get on the ship, heh. It's taken over a week, and still not everyone has introduced themselves to the crew, and it's only a few days left until the deadline is met--unless, of course, you guys want me to extend that as well. Do you guys think we've postponed this long enough, though, or would you be patient and be willing to wait a bit more so everyone can respond in time and nobody's left behind? It's possible people aren't able to post because it's the Christmas week.

    2: You would be correct, teams are posted in the topic or PM'd to me. Either works, whichever you're more comfortable with.

    3: Your rant is met with plenty of amusement. Sure, I'll get off of her--if I ever get on her in the first place. Forgive me for gently reminding her of something in an open area where she can't forget about it as opposed to in-game whispers which can scroll off the screen and promptly be forgotten. I'll never do it again, I promise))
  20. ((Decided to screw over waiting for everyone else? Yeah, that might be a wise thing to do. Sehk and Mike still haven't posted their introductions to the crew, and Essex...you never put up pics, even after I reminded you twice))

    Kairaishi sputtered at the noise of the motorcycle. "Hubbababbahwhaaa?!" He shouted out, squirming in his chair as the Kabuki adjusted their grips, doing their best to keep him upright. Finally stopping his movement, Kairaishi blinked underneath his sakkat and lifted up the brim with a thumb. His eyes looked over--Droxiin, Renata, Akiko, AND Rosie. Oh, and Lyden, too, but he was lacking breasts.
    Kairaishi shook his head and hopped off of his chair, and the Kabuki promptly dropped it unceremoniously from the ground. Reiketsu turned over to look at the Painpipe Wielder, one hand on its katana cautiously, while Bousatsu glared left and right at the opposition. Kairaishi simply strolled over next to Akiko, digging one finger in his ear and nodding over at the group. "Geeze. Lot of dorks here. Just another Fight Night, huh?"

    Morgant and Celia both stumbled over with a squeal, both grinning and laughing and clinging to Cypherr as they hugged close to her. "Ah! Cypherr! Forsooth, 'tis a good thing to see thee hither--how hast thou been, pray tell? Hast been so long since we last saw thee!"

    Scordatura, on the other hand, had grinned underneath her helmet once again at Rosalind's question. "Who am I? Well, lass, lemme learn ye..." She clapped her hands together and crouched down on the ground, on one knee with the other leg extended, both arms held in front of her face in an X. "I'm tha fingernail that scrapes across tha blackboard o' villainy! I'm tha terror that stalks through tha darkness..."
    With a BAM, she slammed both hands on the ground, launching her up where she then flipped forward, landing on one leg with the other lifted up in front of her, arms spread wide to the side. "Tha shiver down ye spine...tha knowledge that ye cannae run far, nae matter how fast ye can run."
    With another BAM, she stomped her free leg on the ground, launching herself back up into the air again, flipping once more, delivering a few spin-kicks at nothing in particular, each one causing a swift SNAP in the air. Landing on the ground with a WHUD, she crouched down low and leaned backwards, hands extended outwards and bunched outwards in a hadouken-esque pose. "Try as ye might, ye cannae stop me..."
    She crouched down and did a sweep kick in front of her, once again aiming at nothing in particular, then standing up in full and lifting her hands above her in a Y. She leapt forward with a cartwheel, melding into three quick somersaults, until leaping once more with another flip and THUDDING on the ground, standing looking to the side with her head tilted over slightly over at the group, scarf once again billowing out dramatically behind her as firecrackers exploded out from under her, erupting a slew of blue smoke to finish the dramatic set of poses.
    "...'Cause ye cannae ever stop tha ever-spinnin' wheels o' justice. I am...SCORDATURA!"
  21. I get entirely involved with my characters--I fully immerse myself into their role, acting myself out as them and playing entirely as them. I put music in the background that fits them, I think thoughts that fit them, and I shift my attitude to what they would feel as well. I fully immerse myself into the role of my character, and thus, yes, I feel what they feel.

    This is part of the reason why I utterly despise asswads, and will go out of my way to prevent teaming/interacting with one at all costs.
  22. You might have better luck advertising on the Virtue forum, rather than the RP forum. We're a small slew of people here, more on Protector than Virtue.
  23. The Praetorian dimension isn't where everything is opposite. If so, the Clockwork would be the good guys instead of Neuron's little creations.
    The Praetorian dimension is just where people decided to go left instead of right, per se, often ending in drastic, drastic differences. Sometimes ending in very few differences.
  24. ...Er. Not that this is a bad idea...but...why would any rewards gotten on Test matter to us? <.<
  25. ((Sign-ups close at Midnight tonight. You have until the 29th to make a team with other people, be it via PM, e-mail, in-game interaction, over-channel interaction, or something else entirely.
    Here are the rules for a team:

    1: No one AT is allowed to be both members. I.E., a single team can't be composed of two Masterminds, two Defenders, two Dominators, two Peacebringers, and sure as hell not two Stalkers. The exception are Scrappers, Brutes, and Tanks, as they get no mez advantages from teaming, aside from DM/Spines Scrappers, DM/ or /DA Brutes, or /Ice Tanks. Thankfully, though, we have woefully few of them.

    2: Please post your team in the following format:

    Team Name: Name here
    Fighter 1: Character Name/Alternate Character - Level/Level
    Fighter 2: Character Name/Alternate Character - Level/Level

    Pictures are preferable, hopefully in the following posts as you introduce your characters-- http://xs.to is an easy-to-use, free hosting service, and you don't even have to sign up for it.
    If you absolutely CANNOT post a pic of your char, though, or REALLY don't want to, then, no, you don't have to. But don't lack a pic just with the excuse "meh, everyone knows what I look like", because, believe me...we don't.

    EXAMPLE:
    Team Name: Knight Lost and White Frost
    Fighter 1: Sir Morgant/Templar Morgant - 31/14
    Fighter 2: Lady Permafrost/Baroness Frost - 35/11

    3: YOU ARE GOING TO SUPPORT YOUR TEAMMATE. I don't CARE if your character is an [censored], you WILL be supportive to your teammate. You don't have to be nice, no, but you are NOT going to be a dick to him/her. Your character entered fully aware that it was a 2v2, and thus, he or she would need a teammate. Teams fall apart when there is infighting, and I am NOT going to see somebody deprived of victory and the RP go sour because of it just because they couldn't damn well work together.
    Don't be a dick, be nice to each other, keep a friendly attitude, and have fun! Very few people consider assholism to be entertaining, ESPECIALLY if they're on the receiving end. Sure, you can be evil, diabolical, and nasty, but there's a fine line between that and outright dickery.

    The RP has officially begun. ))




    Church looked up at the sky, scratching his bearded face with one hand. The sea surrounding the dock he was standing on hssssssed and crrrrrshed, the large cruise ship he was using to transport the fighters to Carnate Island.
    Today was the day.
    The invitations were sent, and like fishing, he only had to wait for the result to come to him. A follow-up letter had been sent to each of the fighters, telling them where to go, that they would be riding a ship, and who to expect--Church himself. They could arrive here and mingle with the other ship riders, or they could go straight to Carnate, if they wanted. But either way, today was the day. From here on...combat would reign supreme.
    There were already hundreds of people scrambling to watch. His hunch was right.
    He smirked in satisfaction, crossing his burly arms and hmfing.
    He could already hear the first few combatants coming to arrive.

    RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!
    The roar of Morgant's motorcycle ruptured any peace that had been there moments before, as the vehicle and the two passengers soared through the air, having blazed off a haphazard ramp (really a tipped-over-and-vandalized billboard) across two roads and onto an "out of service" bridge where the road broke off into air--landing down with a heavy WHUMP, the rider leaned over heavily to the side, causing the wheels to screech in protest as the cycle tilted, rubber shoving against concrete to halt its forward movement and turn to the side.
    Morgant's eyes were narrowed in concentration behind the visor of his biking helmet, his trenchcoat whipping in the wind--well, as much as it could when Celia was right behind him, holding onto him and sitting on it. Hitting the NOS button on his dashboard, green flames spewed out of his exhaust pipe as his speed proceeded to rocket, wind whipping the long hair underneath his helmet. He expertly swerved in between cars, bikes, and other cycles, keeping his eye on the left side of the bridge, peering at the ground below. Noticing a dock nearby, he nodded and gently leaned to the side, sending the vehicle across the concrete barrier like a ramp. They all hung in the air for ten seconds, plummetting down several stories to WHACK down on the ground with force, causing him to smack his helmeted forehead into the dashboard, cracking the visor.
    Shaking his head and lifting it back up, he continue drive along the dock, but at a (thankfully) much slower pace.

    Kairaishi's entrance was a lot less noteworthy. He had no high-adrenaline motorcycle ramps to announce his presence, nor a possible concussion that was prevented only by protective headgear. He was, however, watching from afar, literally being carried by the Kabuki that always followed him around, Reiketsu and Bousatsu. Holding a makeshift throne made out of broken car parts with pillows and leather acting as cushioning, held up by two bars of rebar that rested on both of the Kabuki's shoulders. He sat on the chair, napping as he usually did in his spare time--the kabuki continued to dutifully carry him, being the puppets they were, marching forth onward to Church at a steady pace. Reiketsu's eyes narrowed as he focused upon Morgant, and the knight's eyes narrowed in return. Both Kairaishi and Morgant had crossed each other's paths more than once--the results were never pretty.

    Scordatura, however, had been on the ship to begin with. She was perching effortlessly with perfect balance on the flagpole, arms crossed and scarf billowing in the wind dramatically as her armored boots stood on the flagpole top, held in place only by amazing reflexes...well, magnets helped, too. She tilted her hooded helmet down to look at the three new arrivals--Celia, Kairaishi, and Morgant. Well, perhaps five, if Reiketsu and Bousatsu counted as arrivals.
    "Ooooh, aye. A lass c'n get used tae this." She grinned underneath her helmet as she quickly vaulted up off of the pole, flipping forward once in the air as she fell down, feet planted against the edge of the pool to slide down it at a fast pace, then bounding off of it with another flip, clearing the ship and water in a single leap, landing on the wood with a THUD, down one knee, her hood titled down to the ground, scarf wrapped around her form. She then stood up fully, slowly, hood obscuring every part of her helmet aside from the visor which proceeded to glint, scarf let go to expand out and flap wildly in the wind behind her.
    "Le's git this show onna road."