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Aeritaian Sector
Onka's Realm
Its has been many years since the war against Soul King had ended and things have seemed to be returning back to normal within the sector. However, a new threat would soon be unleashed onto the sector. A group of mage scholars can be seen roaming the dead realm as they look for a unknown magical source which has the Aeritaian High Council worried that Soul King somehow escaped his banishment and is now trying to revive Onka. A man in a business suit follows the group of mage scholars closely looking tired as they continued to search for the source of magic within the realm. The group soon found a large door with a small crack in it however, this was no ordinary door this was the door that Aeri used millions of years ago to banish Onka, The Realm Destroyer.
The mage scholars seeing the cracks within the door start to use different types of spells to try and seal the door, but nothing seems to work. The mages were confused and began to discuss among themselves trying to figure out ways to seal the door close. The man in the suit let out a audible sigh as he began walking past the group of mages towards the door with his arms crossed.
"I don't understand how you guys are having trouble with a simple door. You would think a bunch of high mages would be able to do this... I don't know why my father sent you guys with me." The man said as he put his hand on the crack of the door which caused the group of mages to panic as they ran towards the man.
"Sir Lygon with all due respect... I wouldn't recommend touching that door. We have no idea what this magical source will do if someone is to touch this!" A male mage explained.
The man named Lygon only scoffed at the mage's warnings as he began to close his eyes as a blue magical aura surrounded his body as the crack in the door started to slowly seal itself. The group of mages watched in both horror and awe as Lygon continues to seal the door with his magic, after a few minutes had passed the door finally sealed. Lygon opened his eyes and soon took his hand off the door to turn around and look at the group of mages with his arms crossed a smile on his face.
"See simple? Now let's head back to my father and tell him everything is- AGH!!!!!" Before Lygon could finish his sentence a sharp pain could be felt in his head as he fell onto his knees groaning in pain.
"Sir Lygon!" The Male mage called out as he got near Lygon before getting pushed away by him.
"AGH! Leave me alone I got this under control!" Lygon shouted as he tightly grip his head and shaking it trying to shake off the pain.
After a few minutes of agonizing pain, Lygon's pain seemed to disappear and after staying on his knees for a few more minutes. Lygon slowly got up and dusted himself off like nothing happen which was very concerning for the group of mages.
"Are you alright sir?" The male mage asked.
"Yeah.... I'm fine. Probably just magic headache or something... Maybe I shouldn't have put too much power into sealing that door. Anyway our work here is done let's just get out of here." Lygon said.
The mages nodded and began to start casting a spell after a while they cast a spell and the group of mages along with Lygon teleport out of the dead realm.
Hey, not G's fault. Some ants put a mound in his way when he was trying to lay the smack down on Hokmuto.
Kaiser Ghidorah is a bit different.
That was just amped normal Ghidorah.
But yeah most people had issues with to many humans showing up and cutting from the monster fights
Firstly, Jon/Richard you degenerate, no that is not what fuels my muse. It's pitch black angst.
Secondly, it's less of a project and more trying to get a idea on what I want to do with my character Lincoln. Binge watching Jujutsu Kaisen/Black Clover and getting back into the SCP universe has given me ideas how to shape him. And coincidentally two days ago started a rp with John/Richard on another region's rp forum to test the revised Lincoln. And so far I continue to vibe with how he's coming out.
> John "I can rope him him in with a reply"
> Doesn't even *mention* it in our Discord dms where we frequently chat on for the last two days.
But yes, I tend to be hyper focus on one general thing at a time. Which can cause problems when I have a same character across different regions. Because my thoughts are now around the current version of Lincoln. Who is now different then Chili-Lincoln. In fact, Chili-Lincoln was based on based on a older version of Hoshi-Lincoln. As you can see this is admittedly a problematic system.
The other thing that put me off from coming here to reply was because I don't really subscribe to the "Dungeonmaster" type of rp. I prefer rp when it's planned out. It's the style of rp I'm used to because that is the usual standard in a lot of rping places. There's a reason a lot of regions made it a rule to have al war rp's have a planned ending because it usually devolves into a who has the bigger number game.
Yes, I can get you were trying to go for a shock factor. But the shock I got was "Wait, did he make a Rule 6 violation?" and I was then put into a poor mood as the post speed sped up that gave me bad memories of Discord rping. And this is what made me comment about saying it's John turn because I hate when rp turns is based on who can post the fastest. There was a time where the both of you posted and I was "Okay I can go write a post now.". Half a hour into writing a post I look back to see more posts were made. Back to my main issue, I just didn't like it when you didn't told me the plan and that Lincoln would be missing. (Which in my eyes is a Rule 6 violation since you didn't. I can let the Fake-Lincoln slide of course.)
But, as a person I'm not the sort to express my feelings at the current moment. So I like to take a break and cool down. I'm someone who can never hold any negativity for long. At this moment I'm not mad or anything anymore. Just a bit reluctant to head back into it now. Partly for other reasons I addressed. So it's mostly a me problem more than anything.
I'm working on a reply to that, there's quite a bit to break down and try and explain the culture shock going on here. Not that we're cultured by any means but you get what I'm saying. I will apologize ahead of time for not properly asking you what you're used to when we had that one tg chain.
Understandable.
I'm a bit confused on your definition of a DM, as DM's do have a plan on how a story's going. If a DM doesn't have a plan or at least have a gamelan on how to continue a story/ give plothooks off of the other players/rpers. I'm guessing what you mean of planning is "Everyone talks over the main plot points of how the story goes and then rp's", unless I'm wrong on that. I'll need you to explain that one. But most of this is us not knowing how the other rp's, basically.
This is a mix of me treating you as "one of the boys" and a ruleset that's a Relic from a very different time. I guess I should explain the rule first before my first thing. The rules we have have been around far longer than this region has. Synnadine, myself, Sangheili, and some others all started the original TGC back in high-school when we discovered this site nine years ago as sophomores. It just hit how long I've been on here lol. Back then we had a mix of high schoolers and middle schoolers, most real cool about things but some were real edgelords. After that region fell apart we moved between two others that spanned, what, 2-3 years? Maybe four? I dunno. Anyways Synnadine refounded TGC and a chunk of the original crew came back, including the cheeky brit that is my internet son. We had some dudes and characters who did not understand restraint, and would just say "U R DED" and that was their post. We haven't had issues with people like that for a few years now, and has mainly been a small group of around 4-5 people rping day to day.
With such a small group and us all knowing each other well and how we rp and what we personally allow at this point, the rules have been largely obsolete. And as I largely play the "DM" role and run the story beats for a good portion of the region's history, I've quite a history of doing things like this. I'm sure John's told you some of the stuff I've done. *coughEnkaracough* I have written many a post for characters that other people have made, and for the most part they are flavortext, fluff to add either to their post or something that in universe happens because of their actions, but they always end in the same character status quo as when the post started. And honestly I do this to speed things along a bit since posts here can be far apart. I can give you two examples, one being My Lincoln dream post and one more extreme. In Lincoln's case, I wanted to introduce something that is unknown and alien to Lincoln, something that he and his reincarnation family have not experienced before. It also introduces an unknown who aides Lincoln in this dream sequence and sets up their eventual meeting face to face. This directly ties to the fake Lincoln and the sleep setting in inside the bookstore and the disappearance of the old man. But I wouldn't just say that out of character, because it's something that should be discussed and discovered by the characters. It's one of the few plusses of free-form rp, where the ideas and choices made by the characters direct what actions they take and where the rp eventually goes. Yes there are story beats, but imo it's better to let the spaces in between fill organically over following an artificial bulletpoint. That's how characters evolve into people. Sure I could just type out first that I plan on Myriad protecting both Lincoln in his dream and Wilhelm and Lucy at the bookstore from an evil that cast them into a slumber when they are in an enclosed space and then drag them to hell so they know that he's on their side. But that just means they have an ally. But as it is right now, they don't know that the sleep was something trying to steal them away, they don't know that the fake Lincoln was an attempt to get them out of the trap. One that nearly failed to succeed as Myriad does not know they are all linked, which may not have gone that way had I known beforehand something that no one knows but them. I'm not saying that it's the best way of doing things or the only way, but as we've done here for awhile, it feels the most organic. As I will not tell Myriad's motivations or what part of what happened in thr dream or the bookstore was him, the characters have to react with what they discover just like we would in the real world. All of us have definitely overstepped boundaries in the past, regarding something that hasn't been said yet or something that doesn't work in a race or country. Myriad again being an example as I was planning on him telling Lyn how he survived as a free soul in Perdition due to his Soastran heritage and the other lost souls he's helped along the way, but Dante stepped in before I could. Those things happen, I've done it plenty of times, it just takes a quick explanation and we're back on course.
In summary of this long explanatory bit, regarding the dream sequence. For the post, it ties into the same time that Lucy, the only other one you were posting with returning after being missing. Or it would if we continued that, but that's just how it goes. Anyway without sidetracked, by the end of the plothook Lincoln is unharmed and not missing, exactly as he was before I posted with new information on what is happening in the town.
I just remembered I said I had another example aaaaa. The other one I'll keep brief and just explain what happened. One of John's characters was attacking a mist-like creature from another realm of existence seeping into this one. He was harming it well and good and it couldn't reach him where he was. But then he decided to dive down into it and attack it from the inside. This opened up an opportunity for a natural evolution of the thing he was fighting, and it consumed him. All that was left was his arm. However, that character was Enochian, and cannot be wounded or killed (normally) by something like losing everything but a hand. So he simply regenerates back no worse for wear as the creature assumes its new empowered and matured form. Had he not decided to fly down into the most that wouldn't have happened. It couldn't reach him so he'd eventually banish it back where it came from. But that would be the smart and most obvious play, and that character is naturally prideful in his strength and he was absolutely rinsing this thing. Why would he be afraid of it? All in all he came out of the post the same as he went in it, albeit after causing a giant monster to reach its full form. But that was the result of the character's own nature.
It may be anecdotal, but we've got quite a few years of anecdotes here. I dunno, it's what we've grown comfortable with. Which is why I said earlier that I have to explain the culture shock, since we have a way of doing things that evolved on its own in isolation over the years. Like a dodo. Or a kiwi.
Ok, this here was poor post management by me. We normally do like what you said, we have an order and we go about that order. Sometimes it turns into two different orders if three people have characters in a room but there's different conversations happening, or when a character hears something and butts into a conversation. We've also had posts where characters have set up for a counter in their post or have a gameplan to do something when whoever their fighting does something. Some fights already have a set ending (or one of John's characters takes one hit to the dome and decides to die lol), mainly when they are fulfilling part of a larger story. Two major ones are Duncan and Heimrich, Duncan was to defeat Heimrich after he was infected by a hostile life force and became a monster, but that was it. By John's choice and by extension Duncan decided to pseudo-spare Heimrich's life, which after he recovered eventually led to his redemption and Duncan's fall, when they met again for their fated (and planned) rematch, one that Heimrich was decided to win, but we never decided how he would win. It eventually led to Duncan's current state and the parasite/alter-ego that was inside him being split by a split-decision act of mercy by Heimrich.
That went half off the rails but I wanted to explain a bit on how we've rp'd here. You'll find quite a bit of free flowing and cut off posts in quotes depending on what characters will and will not allow someone else to do. Like Dante stopping Myriad mid-sentence in that one post John made that I unfortunately had to tell him that pit-kind don't know he exists, which I covered earlier. Not that Lyn couldn't have told him, since that is entirely her choice.
Anyways, how I messed that up. It was something that I had meant to explain in the original post, that the longer they stayed inside the bookstore the more tired they would get. But you had already replied to me with something that meant they had stayed in place for quite a long time, so I couldn't just edit the post. And since I had to explain that as well so that John would know to include that in his own post whenever he saw it and replied, I went ahead and stuck that little blurb in there. Sure I could have said it out of character, but why post it twice, or make you edit your post when I could just type up one sentence? But yeah, basically I forgot a really important thing and I had to do a rush job to get it out for you guys.
I definitely messed up in just going about my normal routine with you. Obviously you aren't and weren't aware of how we've done things over the years, and I for sure wasn't aware of what you're used to in terms of rp's. I should have taken more time in talking about that with you. I have more of a DM playstyle and like letting whomever I'm rping with's characters to come to their own conclusions and chose what they want to do organically based on what they think and have seen, but if there's anything you don't agree with or if I overstep the line just tell me. I'm more than happy to make whatever I have planned work with what you know of your characters, or scrap what I have going entirely so that it works. I'm completely flexible, I just need to know.
Even after the posts I've made and the dream sequence, I can always edit anything to work with you. You can even have Lincoln and the crew decide to not have anything to do with the dream monster or Myriad after the fact, and that's perfectly fine. I'll remember to be careful with what kinds of posting I have about your characters and tg you first on what I'm thinking of in the future regarding that, but I hope you understand me still wanting to keep everything about the nightmare hand and Myriad a secret. I want Lincoln and Co to form their own opinions on this guy and what his motivations are, or if he can even be trusted. He's going to have some real big asks of them when he meets then more in person. It's up to them to decide whether they will trust him or not. If I say "you can trust him" then it's going to limit that, same for if I say "you can't trust him" or "yeah he's actually the hand monster lol" or something like that, that naturally puts preconceived notions in anyone's head and would make even thinking of trusting someone who they have only seen in character help them as trustworthy. It goes the same way for if I said he's a good guy, thrn it makes it hard to justify sleuthing out "hmm, but what if the nightmares and the old man's disappearance is his doing too..." or "what if this is all a distraction so that he can do something else heinous in the area since they are the only people who could get in his way."
Hope my reasoning and explanations for what I did makes sense, everything seems to turn into disjointed rambling when you're slowly phone posting.
Vedran, Coastal District [TBD]
They say atmospheric technology is advanced enough to control the climate of any area its owner chooses, down to the speed of the winds and how much sun peaks out behind the clouds. They also say the Senator likes to make all those who live in his city and unable to afford personal climate control as miserable as possible. The coastal winds do little to help the frigid November rains that have done their best to drown the district for weeks. What they also do is fail to put out the self-lighting 'Suicide' cigarettes that dangles between the lips of Sid Holloway. Not many people use his first name, most of his fellow officers and detectives of the Special Threats Unit call him by his middle name of Lee. The rain falls around him in a curtain made by the translucent field above his head generated by the little orb in its center. Water running down the shield mixes with the neon lights of the city's bustling nightlife, their cheery and exotic dancing colors do little to change the glower reflected in each puddle he steps in. Each splash is muffled by the sounds of music and commercials being blared across every screen across the towers on each side of the bustling street, ground traffic filled with pedestrians parting for the rare ground car or bike that honks their way through. Tourists who are too poor to afford the aero-passes required to legally fly in the skyways that snake between every building in the city stretching across the horizon. Exotic and augmented specimens of every race imaginable call this place home, endless parties, clubs, bars, and love-workers beg for attention from the denizens of the district, and countless addicts do not resist, forever lining their insides with dangerous drinks and drugs while Senator-backed crime families line their pockets with blood money. Gang wars are common but nothing can be done to stop them; Whoever wins is more likely to make the Senator more money by wringing every coin out of their paychecks that taxes don't already steal.
There wasn't really a plan coming here. Lee had this day off while the Bill-E unit was wearing down his current file's subject, though with the current events he's become more than restless. Out of the party goers and exotic individuals who have spent hundreds of thousands on upgrading themselves to be as aesthetic as possible, Lee heavily stands out. It only took 47 years to wear his body out, and he is far from being on the cover of any beauty magazine. Compared to the modern demands of the world of the beautiful, his eyes are to small, a permanent squint on his face from flash bombs and gunfire. His nose is flat and crooked from one too many breaks, and his jaw is thick and cumbersome enough to be a boulder. His short hair is unkempt, and through some unholy power still is its natural black despite the decades of stress forced upon him. He is a barrel of a man, and weighs every bit of 230 pounds despite his 5' 11" height. In part due to the augments his line of work forced upon him, and the constant physical exercise he must undergo to maintain them. Lee ignores those around him and continues down to a bar he hasn't visited in about a month now. After having this case land on his lap, he needs something stronger than a pack of suicides to take the edge off-
https://i.imgur.com/kQYjRav.jpg
His retina lights up with decoding information cast on it by internal systems connected to his ocular network. A high level threat is close, very close. And as it normally only picks up targets within talking distance of him, the fact that he is detecting a threat rank so far from him chills his blood. The detective does not draw his gun as he starts walking quicker towards the reading. His well worn Gsalt 57 is a powerhouse of a handgun, but that means nothing to someone who can destroy the entirety of this district without even trying. Someone of that caliber is the only possible explanation with the distance being so vast. A cold sweat starts as he crosses block after block without finding the source. Until he sees the sign and front entrance of the bar he was planning to visit, the clear signal of a G7 threat inside. There's no noticeable activity from where he's at, but like hell is he going to get any closer when this threat isn't contained. Lee pulls his work phone out of his pocket and is about to press the speed dial when the G7 signal begins to move erratically. Lee lowers the phone in case it was noticing him, but is the only one in this crowded street to notice the broken and bleeding woman get tossed out of the bar. The holographic door seals behind her and the crowds do nothing. They have their own lives to live and parties to storm. There's no time to do anything other than try not to touch the lower class thing that disgraced their path. It is the most bizarre thing that Lee has seen in a long time. Frigid water from skyshields pours down on the woman and mixes with the rain, cleaning blood from scratches and gouges but revealing painful bruises on her shivering body that her torn and ruined high-class dress does nothing to keep warm. She would have been beautiful, once upon a time. But a well trained eye notices she has been bar hopping and living off these streets for some time now. Which only add to the ludicrous situation she is in. His scanner is not malfunctioning, she possesses terrifying power, yet she lets herself be tossed out of bars and lives on the streets. It's an odd sort of resolve he sees in her from his position across the street. She picks herself up silently, ignoring the party goers and dancers to sit down outside the bar under the shallow awning. A near self-preservation instinct to avoid using the immense powers at her disposal. This was not someone he could ignore.
He loses sight of her for a minute as he pushes his was through the throngs of revelers to reach the other side of the street where he had seen the woman. But once his feet are again on a sidewalk, there she is, still sitting with her back against the wall of the bar. He can tell that despite the masses of people she had noticed him coming her way. Lee looks down at her for a moment, taking a hefty drag of his smoke that makes the end glow bright orange. Then he walks over against the wall as well, a good six feet away as he draws again on the suicide. He took care to not drench her with his skyshield as he walked around her, the shield shrinking as he sits under the awning. He takes it out of his mouth and holds it between two fingers as a cloud of smoke escapes with his exhale, watching the overtly colorful people of the night world parade by. He sits in silence for a minute, as does she in ignoring his presence. Eventually he talks, after taking another puff of his cig. "Bad night to forget your skyshield," His gruff voice is nearly muffled by the capitalist anarchy around them, the only two people who don't belong, each for a different reason. "Clinic's butcher bank accounts around here."
A casual Toho Kaiju level fighter in the middle of senate territory? Now this is an interesting story.
Also this is the most I've seen you post for awhile holy crap
You'd be surprised to know how many of them there are. Most of them tho are on Senator payrolls.
Also it's Celecia.
Nurse and I were talking about this yesterday and I did part of the work that I said I would, since he posts once in ten million years thanks to work.
Also myes.
I did not see it being Celecia. What a twist. I'm surprised that place isn't a pit right now... Then again I suppose after what she did even she can sink to rock bottom. But... How did she get even deeper than that to let herself get beat up by normal bar thugs
Oh she can beat normal bar thugs.
It's the professional thugs that are the problem. Right now she has the Hell Knight wanting to torment her and a Holy Inquisitor trying to kill her, so she hasn't been using magic to try and avoid detection. Problem with that is that she used magic for literally everything. You run into problems in Vedran when you don't have money.
As said before, I’m not angry at anything you did. After all, I'm the outsider here. So I can’t put anything against you because you're just doing what you have been normally doing for years and have gotten accustomed to the style of writing you prefer. It would be something akin to me be say, a foreigner who likes how her country makes cheese, going to another country and get mad at how they make their own cheese.
[quote=[nation]Wabacha[/nation] I'm a bit confused on your definition of a DM, as DM's do have a plan on how a story's going. If a DM doesn't have a plan or at least have a gamelan on how to continue a story/ give plothooks off of the other players/rpers. I'm guessing what you mean of planning is "Everyone talks over the main plot points of how the story goes and then rp's", unless I'm wrong on that. I'll need you to explain that one. But most of this is us not knowing how the other rp's, basically. [/quote]
By what I meant by that is how there isn’t a complete static post order. Like in DND a player takes an action and the DM writes out the reaction to that action. The story can change on a time and players are often forced to think quickly on the spot. For me, that is my achilles heel. Because what happens is that the quality of my writing takes a nosedive. As seen in my last post which is just a blocky paragraph.
So share some context. The reason the bookstore scene was dragging out as it has was because I was waiting for you to respond to the rp I started with you. What’s more, I didn’t feel I needed to write an action scene. Because at the time (and still now) I have no clue about their power arsenal whatsoever. I thought I could have pushed it off for a later date. But that turns out to be incorrect and because I was put on the spot with no idea about my characters powers. I just started to pull half-formed thoughts off the top of my head. Normally, it takes me a full day or two to come up with a powerset. And it was the same when I had to explain about the soulmate bond situation. Minutes before I typed that, it was all nebulous ideas that I had. I didn’t know what I was doing that night, my writing mood was already off which means not only sloppier writing but I start to make bigger mistakes.
And this is where my preference for very static posting order comes in. In many regions and forums it’s usually bad form to slide into a rp. It’s why the [Open/Private/Invite] tags are a common staple in the forums. Now obviously I have no one to blame but myself for not clarifying that the two rp’s I started were only for you and Richard/John individually. I didn’t feel it was needed at the time because from my perspective I thought it was clear when I made two rp’s and not one. If I had known you were going to join I wouldn’t have bothered to make the other one in the first place.
I’ll respond to the rest of the stuff in a bit. I just wanted to post what I got before I go to bed.
I getcha. You don't have to worry about quality police here my guy, just post what ya got. You can always edit it later. I do that quite a bit, another hobby of mine is taking groups of posts from one rp and structuring it fully into a singular post, makes it look more like a page out of a book. That's the nice stuff about nationstates, we can go back and mess with stuff after the fact whenever we want.
I don't remember honestly seeing those as separate rp's, since you have some 10 characters closely connected and had worded it so that they would all be traveling together. I figured you were just going to focus on Lincoln and Lucy at first and bring in the others later, so I can see how they got entangled. I can do a simple edit of the ending of my post now that I looked back and saw Lincoln dozing off on the hill, I had just remembered that he was starting to fall asleep. That's what gave me the idea for the dream demon actually lol. I wasn't planning on anything overt after the dream, since now Lincoln is aware of something in said dream, and was going to leave how Lincoln would proceed to you, since as a reveal OOC Myriad has limited influence in the real world. Whether he would try and avoid sleeping or try sleeping again to find the cloaked figure, or try and find something on the net about spooky hands, however you think Lincoln would proceed. Don't think of decisions on the spot as mistakes either, you have a base to build off now, the soulmate connection. You can take that in any direction you want, whether they were all unique occurrences that linked themselves together through some ritual, fragments of one higher being, the end products of an ancient ritual, superior souls too strong for normal cycles of death to contain, the survivors of a great disaster that consumed the rest of their race and they're all that's left, and those are just backstory ideas that floated through my noggin. The actual uses for their connection are quite diverse. They may share all the same feeling yes, which makes hurting one hurt them all, but they also are highly dangerous and the most efficient team fighters, operating almost like a hive mind. They are excellent at stealth missions, as they can sneak one in and the rest of the bondmates know what they know. If they can tap at will into each other's senses that would also be quite potent in stealthy situations. It's just one of those things that will be interesting to see what becomes of it. There isn't going to be much actual combat vs the dream demon, since, yanno, dreams, so you don't have to worry about rushing the combat mechanics of their bonded situation. Just take your time with it, throw ideas around, see what sticks and what you like.
Also the reason I wasn't responding when you restarted that post was because I'm working full time lol. Covid hasn't limited my work at all.
It's as they say, those who have weathered flame wars know it's not worth it to light the fire and keep fanning it. And that it's more productive to talk about. But this reminds me of a fun little story.
Back in my day when The Galactic Federacy still existed. There was one man whose nation went by the name Diyel. He was one of the first members and as a result garner a lot of influence over the years. This became a problem you see. For how the influence system works that if a nation has more influence than anyone else, that means they can't get banned by mods in the region. So on one seemingly normal day I check the region to find that I came after a nuclear denotation. Page after page I see perma deleted posts with the other members pleading for the madness to stop. Turned out Diyel went mad and blinded by his ideals of Martydom wanted to go out in a blaze. The meltdown lasted for twenty pages when it finally ended by a source no one wants to see come in. An actual mod of NationStates itself. And they brought down the almighty banhammer. Just like that, 6,000+ posts were yeeted into the shadow realm. 
ZOCOM can possibly fill in more of this delightful story of the fall from hubris. He was there as well.
Moral of the story. Just talk it out. It's better for everyone's sanity.
We had a mod come here once cause a spammer was making burn nations and flooding random RMB's. They were here for all of 15 minutes before a mod came in, shut them down, basically said "Thats enough of that" and left. Might not have been this region though? Mightve been the original TGC or perhaps TLOHAH. Not sure. It was funny.
I remember feeling special that Moderator-sama noticed us.
ZOCOM and Gavilain
Mhm, all in all this has been a nice exchange of getting to understand each other more. I've certinally done my fair share of mistakes. The other as you mention is me not taking my time. I just have it conditioned in me to be urged to respond to a post right away. And it was kicking in that night. Speaking of, I do got the muse to come back to this yesterday because by making the rp with John elsewhere be depressing by having Lincoln's sisters be brutally killed and he still carries trauma and grief since that event. I now wish to write stuff not as angst ridden stuff and so here I am. I'll certinally be spending the next several days working on stuff before doing rp so I'm not running naked like last time.
Ah yes, the time when having 8-10 rp's at once was considered normal. Those were the days that we thankfully transitioned out of. (Mind to the rest of you, this is all in ONE post. Not separate. So you would often get massive text walls in TGF.)
*Cue quoting one of our old posts that is a massive wall of text for one RP* XD
Lincoln knew when he had sunk to the realm of slumber. Drifting deep down into the furthest reaches of his subconscious. Because it’s here he knows the truth of what he had done. The lies he had made in order to restrain him. Out there the one called Lincoln had fret over the feeling of being hunted. That some dark force was hunting them.
Down here he couldn’t help but grimly chuckle at him. Both out of self-loathing and madness. Look at him and his wives. Spending the years living in the light. The memories anger and frustrate him because he knows the truth that he doesn’t want to see. So he buried it so deep down. And forget about it.
How pathetic can you be Lincoln?
Just how many years are you going to do this to yourself?
Again he can’t accept the truth. They are the only light he has. He loves them. He hates himself. Here he knows the truth and it burns.
Fitting then that he seems to be having this sort of dream. The type where the dreamer wakes in bed to find they can’t move their body. Like a corpse.
Exactly like a corpse.
That is what he is.
A husk of a human being.
Normalcy has long been taken away from him. And he knows it’s something that one taken is forever lost. He can never return to the light. Lincoln is forever disconnected from that world filled with people that take their normalcy for granted.
He heard the doorknob turn. And scoff at the thought that the squeak of the door was a reminder of home. Even here it seems he lies to himself. He hated that Lincoln out there who believed he could ever replace home. That anything would match the original. Yes, yes, he heard the wise men that say one can make a new home. Make new bonds that are better.
But that is for those who are not fully lost. People that have a chance to heal. Normal people.
He didn’t fall into any of those categories. To him, homes are nothing more than an empty box. They are built out of wood, stone, glass. A home is made when there is light within the swelling. And the light within this home is a beguiling one.
Lincoln watched the darkness. And he found himself bored.
Is this it? He ponders. The darkness was nothing but primordial ooze.
Is this all the horror left that his fractured soul could squeeze out?
Or, is this the darkness he felt looming over them. If so he can’t help but feel a bit of pity for them. Seemingly so interested in them. Feeling that it was peering into him made him wonder if they could see it. The lies that he built around himself. That beneath it all there is only darkness that mirrors the dark beyond the doorway. Because Lincoln had died a long time ago. All there is left is a corpse of a human being.
The dream was almost playing out too slow for him. He was just waiting for it to end. After so long he’s numb to stuff like this. Because here's the thing about horror and weirdness. The more one reveals it, the less effect it has. Much akin to how people grow to learn that hate is normal in bad environments. That it’s normal for fights to break over dinner. Normal to see someone bruised. For him it’s normal to be in pain.
How much horror has he already experienced?
It’s impossible to remember.
At this point it’s almost meaningless.
So much blends together.
He’s tired of it. Just as he’s tired with this dream. There’s nothing human about him anymore beyond a biological standpoint.
Everything has been taken from him. His innocence, normalcy, light. All at a ripe young age of eleven on that cold winter night so long ago.
So lost in his own musings that he almost missed the shadow’s finger sliding up his back. If he had the control to speak he would have prompted it to dig into his skin.
Slide between his spinal disks to touch just how much he’s hiding beneath all the lies.
And pull it all out.
Perhaps that can break the reality that him out there lives in. Alas he can only lay there. That’s all he can do really. All that he has ever done. That is what corpses do. Going through the motions he caught the sight of the hand retreating through the mirror with his double then being dragged into the darkness. A small part of him felt pity for the hand. Then the door slam shut.
He wakes up.
And knew something was horribly wrong.
He remembers.
No, no no no no. He isn’t supposed to remember. Eyes dart around the room. The dots began to connect. Whatever intrude into his dream must have broken the fragile line between the lie he carries and the truth he buries. The darkness had truly spilt out of him that he kept locked in his psyche. No, that is incorrect as he asset himself. That door is only partially cracked open.
Yet he can feel his brain start to itch. Red veins eb behind the plaster of the walls. The floor is covered with freshly fallen snow. Reciting a mental exercise these anomalies fade away. He stood there for a moment. Soft laughter bubbles up in his chest. A string of low chuckling left his parted lips.
His budding madness aside. There was also great self-loathing. Because if he remembers. Lincoln went out the door before he could finish that thought. He can feel them. It saves him while at the same time damns him. Out of the whole thing he hates the most. Is dragging innocent people into his mess.
In a usage of runecraft he managed to get to town quickly. Took a shortcut through the alleyway to get onto the main street. There down the road he saw them. When his eyes laid on his wives the darkness almost receded. What’s the harm in indulging in a lie? But it was his self-disgust to have believed so desperately in this lie that stopped him from a relapse.
He can hear their thoughts in his head. Of course he would feel them. They’re so close together. So close in fact it’s like they have one soul. How silly of a thought. How mad he must be to believe in such a cheesy sentiment.
How insane indeed.
Oh, how he hates himself.
The question of his mental state aside. For a moment he considered getting rid of the lie. To stop dragging their memory through the dirt. But he can’t. Once he went up to them and they saw him. They kiss and hug to express how relieved they are to see each other. Talk to each other how they’re going to meet up with everyone else. And most likely leave town.
Seeing them. Smelling them. Touching them. Hearing them. Every one of them hurts. And it will make telling the truth all that much harder. He turned to look at Wilhelm. “I’m sorry for dragging into all this. You seem like a really nice guy.” There is no need to plead for forgiveness. As he doesn’t deserve it.
Wilhelm can easily sense that something was very off with Lincoln. And now with the women around him. Lincoln wasn’t looking at any of them anymore. His gaze was squarely on him. His mouth opens to free alien words that speak of something old. ”Repus tse longiug sumixam. Maneacs ni sutixe te mucra. Sitnenam aealua sege etediv.”
A chill in the air. Wilhelm now sees the lie being pulled away. The women around them seem to dim. Lose shape. Blackening as it shifts into the truth. In seconds before Wilhelm very eyes float a group of dark blades. The details and shape reflect the personality of the one it meant to represent. Each held a distinct aura. But he now sees the truth.
They were blades spawned by the madness within Lincoln’s soul. “Something broke into my dream. Made me aware of the reality I made to suppress my darkness. My hatred.” He explained to the man. He deserved that much for putting up with his lie. It made him feel bad. “They...are still real...Just not in the kind of real you’re used to.” Even when he’s wide awake. The delusion still possesses a strong hold of him.
The immortal was still watching their surroundings, recalling ever detail to see if anything changes around them. Though his concentration gets broken when Lincoln apologising to him? What for? None of this was his fault. He chose to get involved. And he was going to tell him such, though the sudden incantation of alien words put all thoughts on hold. The sight of Lincoln's spouses, the souls joined to him were warping out of shape, contorting and losing all signs of humanity... It made him take a step back out of reflex, a slow drift of snow flakes appearing against his boots while a hunger grows in the pit of his stomach.
His eyes flicked to the outlandish blades, weaponry gorged of a mans madness... Warped into human approximations for some delusion... He thought he could step away from sights like this for awhile. He was too naive to think that Chili did not have another layer of rock bottom for him to experience for humanity. "No... I'm used to it." He says bitterly before he looks to Lincoln. The news that something broke into his dream means that there was more to this. And it definitely had this man in the centre of it all.
"I... I'm still going to help you. As much as my gut is telling me to get away from you, you're innocent in all this weirdness. And from it feels like I'm more of a fourth party in this." He says as he looks around, still having an eye on the blades around Lincoln as he couldn't shake the gut feeling that he shouldn't get near them.
Just in case this got lost Zocom.
Kalla was left sheepish in the face of all this while his father just smiled to the pair of them. He could certainly tell that the pair of them had been through alot together, and if she was enough to be his new anchor then he supported her all the more. "Heh, welcome to the family then." Though there was something that troubled him as he looked around, clearly seeing the signs of battle below them in the city... That he didn't recognise.
"Looks like I missed one hell of a party." Reave jokingly says before he looked back to the pair. "I don't sense the rest of the family...? Oh god don't tell me-"
Kalla spoke up quickly, he didn't want his dad to think that everyone else was dead. "N-No they're all fine. They're safe. Just... Just not here. We're not in our universe, a separate place in existence. Mom and everyone else is safe..." He says with a soft smile, he didn't know how their story was progressing now without him.. If time had progressed at all for them. Tricky thing that, time travel.
Reave let out a very audible sigh of relief while he fan his had through his hair, his Saiyan tail all bushy like when a cat gets agitated or scared. "Thank the Cosmos. That explains why you look older than you should be..." Though that wasn't everything, Reave's gaze on his son lasted several seconds before something starts to click. An odd look in his son's eyes finally tip him off to what that uneasy feeling he had ever since getting here. His expression grew protective, angered. "Who did it." His tone was now flat, without a hint of the jovial bounce it had since he arrived. "Is the bastard still here?"
Kalla slightly winced as he looked over Conton city, unable to sense that man before he shakes his head. "No he's already gone, Dad please it isn't a big deal I brought it upon-"
"Isn't a big deal?? Son, you died! I don't care if it was your fault of not." Reave was understandably angry, someone had the balls to kill his son and it was reversed?
"Dad Zamu took back the fact he killed me, it was because-"
"So his name is Zamu? Anything else I should know?" That time he interrupted Kalla on purpose. He already said he didn't care that he thinks it was his fault. Nothing justifies murder unless there is no other option, the fact someone did it and rewrote that wrong afterwards told him two things. The guy is stronger than Kalla, seeing that his son was trying to justify what happened. And that they they wanted to give Kalla that second chance...
"I... I... I tainted the arts you taught me. I-I fashioned them into merciless tools for war..." Kalla hung his head in shame, the years he spent in the time chamber were done with the sole intension of being able to kill Zamu, to undo his error in allowing him to be born in the first place. And now... The very man who he wanted dead gave him a second chance... "I'm sorry I made your arts into a murders too-"
Reave cut Kalla off for the final time with a chop to the top of his head, a low sigh leaving him before he embraces his idiot son. "... Kalla. The Cosmic Void art I taught you was to help you focus your rage, to temper you and achieve peace through total relaxation. My death left that hollow place in your heart, and the war with Erox after only made it bigger... I'm not mad you warped my art. But I am mad that the young idiot I raised thinks that I'd hate him for it." Reave holds on tight to his son, his precious son who he regretted leaving so early into his life. Kalla just gripped the shirt of his father as he felt only relief that his father would forgive him, the hollow ache in his chest relenting. "But now I know I'm not going anywhere until I retrain you in the ways of the Cosmic Void arts. I can't leave you like this, especially not until I kick that Zamu guys ass." He says with a jokingly stern tone, though that part about Zamu was serious. He doubted he could honestly win, but he at least wanted to try and kick that guys ass. "Oh! So where am I crashing? You two living together yet ooor?" He says looking to Kalla and then to Pepper.
Conton City
TP Flaz didn't look all that happy that his boss was waving Zamu off. But it was likely just to keep these guys from freaking out about Zamu. Honestly he still thought Zamu was out to kill him for the attempt he made awhile ago. But he'll follow the Supreme Kai's lead on this. "Yeah don't worry too much, if he causes a stink just call us Kay?" He says as he grins to his other universe self and the Saiyans.
Tch! This turned into a strafing match! No one is going to win at this rate... Saph kept her pace with dodging the incoming volley, keeping her energy stable was a chore and because of it it left them with several close calls. For the time being they had no choice but to keep their distance, they hated it but getting in close for melee won't prove anything until they get a good idea for what kind of strength is necessary... They just need time to think.
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