Roleplaying board in Spanish — games, stories, and systems.
Description
No.6994
/hisrol/ — Role in Spanish
Presentation
No.6998
Board Presentation — /hisrol/
This is Anatase's Spanish roleplaying board. You can use it to set up games with any system, turn-based strategy games, or simply to tell stories. You can also share anecdotes from your games.
You can have multiple active threads at the same time, as long as the previous one has reached the bump limit.
Rules
>Maintain a respectful tone with other participants.
>NSFW content goes in spoiler.
>No spam or derailing other threads.
>If a thread doesn't interest you, ignore it.
Bump limit: 200 posts. To roll dice type /roll{fórmula} in your post, for example 1d20 = 8.
This is Anatase's Spanish roleplaying board. You can use it to set up games with any system, turn-based strategy games, or simply to tell stories. You can also share anecdotes from your games.
You can have multiple active threads at the same time, as long as the previous one has reached the bump limit.
Rules
>Maintain a respectful tone with other participants.
>NSFW content goes in spoiler.
>No spam or derailing other threads.
>If a thread doesn't interest you, ignore it.
Bump limit: 200 posts. To roll dice type /roll{fórmula} in your post, for example 1d20 = 8.
New Thread
37 threads
·
5 pages
In the last two decades, the world has witnessed an unprecedented phenomenon: the appearance of individuals bearing peculiarities — genetic alterations that grant extraordinary abilities — colloquially known as quirks. What began as isolated cases, hidden and misinterpreted, has grown into an international matter.
The scientific community debates whether this is a natural evolutionary leap or the result of forces yet to be identified. Governments, on the other hand, are concerned with the strategic impact of these individuals. In a world divided by the Cold War, the fear that quirks could become weapons has ignited diplomatic tensions and fueled extremist ideologies, both in defense and opposition to their existence.
In this climate of uncertainty, amidst the cold waters and dense fog of the North Atlantic, rises Genesis Island: an isolated enclave, inaccessible by conventional routes and officially nonexistent on any navigational chart. Administered by the geneticist and empathetic mutant Edward Claremont, the island serves as a refuge and training center for young quirks carriers. There, they are taught to understand and control their abilities, while also being prepared for missions beyond their shores.
Claremont, visionary and pragmatic, founded Genesis Island in 1972, after acquiring the ruins of a World War II naval base. His facilities — a mix of military and academic architecture — now house classrooms, laboratories, training zones, and restricted sectors whose existence is rarely mentioned. Although his official discourse advocates for peaceful coexistence, many wonder what his true objective is and where the resources that keep this place functioning come from.
In the year 1983, the world watches in silence. Between the promise of a future where humans and mutants coexist, and the fear of an inevitable conflict, Genesis Island stands as a lighthouse… or perhaps, as the spark that will ignite the next great war.
>Sheet Nothing new, they already know it
>Name
>Quirk
Try not to make it open to further evolution, the point of the roll is that players advance with their quirks as they learn to handle them.
>Age
15 to 20
>Nationality
I want to see a diverse cast, yeah.
>Gender
>Background
>Aspirations
<No, there are no stats
The scientific community debates whether this is a natural evolutionary leap or the result of forces yet to be identified. Governments, on the other hand, are concerned with the strategic impact of these individuals. In a world divided by the Cold War, the fear that quirks could become weapons has ignited diplomatic tensions and fueled extremist ideologies, both in defense and opposition to their existence.
In this climate of uncertainty, amidst the cold waters and dense fog of the North Atlantic, rises Genesis Island: an isolated enclave, inaccessible by conventional routes and officially nonexistent on any navigational chart. Administered by the geneticist and empathetic mutant Edward Claremont, the island serves as a refuge and training center for young quirks carriers. There, they are taught to understand and control their abilities, while also being prepared for missions beyond their shores.
Claremont, visionary and pragmatic, founded Genesis Island in 1972, after acquiring the ruins of a World War II naval base. His facilities — a mix of military and academic architecture — now house classrooms, laboratories, training zones, and restricted sectors whose existence is rarely mentioned. Although his official discourse advocates for peaceful coexistence, many wonder what his true objective is and where the resources that keep this place functioning come from.
In the year 1983, the world watches in silence. Between the promise of a future where humans and mutants coexist, and the fear of an inevitable conflict, Genesis Island stands as a lighthouse… or perhaps, as the spark that will ignite the next great war.
>Sheet Nothing new, they already know it
>Name
>Quirk
Try not to make it open to further evolution, the point of the roll is that players advance with their quirks as they learn to handle them.
>Age
15 to 20
>Nationality
I want to see a diverse cast, yeah.
>Gender
>Background
>Aspirations
<No, there are no stats
Autobump
>>10548 →
is this still alive? how much did I miss? do they consider me deceased or can I come back with some excuse?
is this still alive? how much did I miss? do they consider me deceased or can I come back with some excuse?
>>1989 →
I WAS JUST ENJOYING THE PILLOWS YOU HAVE! THEY ARE VERY COMFORTABLE! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
He doesn't realize that what he was really fiddling with was his rear.
>>6716 →
Albert Einstein: Finally, a frame of reference where my body can't gain mass even if I travel at the speed of light!
Marilyn Monroe: Gentlemen prefer blondes, but I hope they don't prefer them pickled... Can someone clean the front of my jar?
Julius Caesar: Veni, vidi... and I got stuck in a jar. Brutus, tell me this wasn't your idea.
Elvis Presley: Thank you, thank you very much... although I'd appreciate a little more back-scratching.
Cleopatra: I have ruled the greatest empire in the world and now my greatest threat is a cat trying to knock my jar off the shelf.
Charlie Chaplin: That guy over there copied my mustache!
Leonardo da Vinci: The hydrodynamic design of the jar is fascinating, but the ergonomics for scratching my nose are a complete nightmare.
Frank Sinatra: Fly me to the moon... or at least move my jar closer to the window, there's no air circulation here.
Ludwig van Beethoven: I can't hear anything.
Audrey Hepburn: To be elegant, you don't need a sophisticated dress, just a well-polished glass jar without fingerprints.
Sigmund Freud: The fact that I've been left alone as a disembodied head reveals a clear castration complex in whoever designed this laboratory... You want to screw your mom.
Bruce Lee: Be like water, my friend... but honestly, I didn't think the advice would be so literal.
Abraham Lincoln: A house divided against itself cannot stand... and a head divided from its body, well, you can imagine.
Groucho Marx: Well, I never thought I'd end up in a jar. Although I must admit it's the first time my bar tab has been so cheap.
Marie Curie: At least make sure this glass has radiation shielding, I don't want the liquid to start glowing at night.
Jimi Hendrix: Brother, this preservation fluid is giving me a psychedelic trip like nothing in the sixties.
William Shakespeare: To be or not to be? That is no longer the question, the question is who put me next to the olive jar.
Louis Armstrong: What a wonderful world!... although it would be much more wonderful if someone put some ice in this water.
Vincent van Gogh: At least no one in here can come and touch my other ear!
Pablo Picasso: Look at me! Now I'm a perfect abstract work, bodiless and floating in a glass cube!
I DID IT! I DID IT! LOOK, LOOK! I JUST NEUTRALIZED MISS MOIRA'S POWER! AM I GREAT?! AM I NOT?!
He shouts and jumps while watching >>6717 → >>1989 → >>1988 → >>6718 → his companions.
I EVEN BROUGHT BACK MISS AMERLIA! HURRAY!
He points to >>10549 → the girl who appeared out of nowhere or perhaps was there the whole time and no one noticed, whatever the case, the clown celebrates as if Spain had won the World Cup. Oh, they did win it! HAHAHAHA! Anyway, the boss, who has done nothing, indicates that they can go to the mansion without fear of having their brains in a psychic microwave. Little Tears also doesn't give a damn about Barracuda and jumps to go with Warren, who already wants to finish this.
WHO IS BARRACUDA AND WHAT DO YOU EAT IT WITH?! LET'S GO! LET'S FINISH THIS, I'VE ALREADY FELT IT ETERNAL! WAJUUUUUU~!
He realizes that running isn't his thing, meaning, he has big clown shoes and his legs are short, he runs like a damned penguin with hemorrhoids so he decides to light the fuse he conveniently had in his butt and turn himself into a rocket to blow up the mansion entrance when he crashes into it and give his companions passage to enter.
I WAS JUST ENJOYING THE PILLOWS YOU HAVE! THEY ARE VERY COMFORTABLE! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
He doesn't realize that what he was really fiddling with was his rear.
>>6716 →
Albert Einstein: Finally, a frame of reference where my body can't gain mass even if I travel at the speed of light!
Marilyn Monroe: Gentlemen prefer blondes, but I hope they don't prefer them pickled... Can someone clean the front of my jar?
Julius Caesar: Veni, vidi... and I got stuck in a jar. Brutus, tell me this wasn't your idea.
Elvis Presley: Thank you, thank you very much... although I'd appreciate a little more back-scratching.
Cleopatra: I have ruled the greatest empire in the world and now my greatest threat is a cat trying to knock my jar off the shelf.
Charlie Chaplin: That guy over there copied my mustache!
Leonardo da Vinci: The hydrodynamic design of the jar is fascinating, but the ergonomics for scratching my nose are a complete nightmare.
Frank Sinatra: Fly me to the moon... or at least move my jar closer to the window, there's no air circulation here.
Ludwig van Beethoven: I can't hear anything.
Audrey Hepburn: To be elegant, you don't need a sophisticated dress, just a well-polished glass jar without fingerprints.
Sigmund Freud: The fact that I've been left alone as a disembodied head reveals a clear castration complex in whoever designed this laboratory... You want to screw your mom.
Bruce Lee: Be like water, my friend... but honestly, I didn't think the advice would be so literal.
Abraham Lincoln: A house divided against itself cannot stand... and a head divided from its body, well, you can imagine.
Groucho Marx: Well, I never thought I'd end up in a jar. Although I must admit it's the first time my bar tab has been so cheap.
Marie Curie: At least make sure this glass has radiation shielding, I don't want the liquid to start glowing at night.
Jimi Hendrix: Brother, this preservation fluid is giving me a psychedelic trip like nothing in the sixties.
William Shakespeare: To be or not to be? That is no longer the question, the question is who put me next to the olive jar.
Louis Armstrong: What a wonderful world!... although it would be much more wonderful if someone put some ice in this water.
Vincent van Gogh: At least no one in here can come and touch my other ear!
Pablo Picasso: Look at me! Now I'm a perfect abstract work, bodiless and floating in a glass cube!
I DID IT! I DID IT! LOOK, LOOK! I JUST NEUTRALIZED MISS MOIRA'S POWER! AM I GREAT?! AM I NOT?!
He shouts and jumps while watching >>6717 → >>1989 → >>1988 → >>6718 → his companions.
I EVEN BROUGHT BACK MISS AMERLIA! HURRAY!
He points to >>10549 → the girl who appeared out of nowhere or perhaps was there the whole time and no one noticed, whatever the case, the clown celebrates as if Spain had won the World Cup. Oh, they did win it! HAHAHAHA! Anyway, the boss, who has done nothing, indicates that they can go to the mansion without fear of having their brains in a psychic microwave. Little Tears also doesn't give a damn about Barracuda and jumps to go with Warren, who already wants to finish this.
WHO IS BARRACUDA AND WHAT DO YOU EAT IT WITH?! LET'S GO! LET'S FINISH THIS, I'VE ALREADY FELT IT ETERNAL! WAJUUUUUU~!
He realizes that running isn't his thing, meaning, he has big clown shoes and his legs are short, he runs like a damned penguin with hemorrhoids so he decides to light the fuse he conveniently had in his butt and turn himself into a rocket to blow up the mansion entrance when he crashes into it and give his companions passage to enter.
The vortex, a place where worlds and their inhabitants go to die, where the fallen are given a second chance.
In this vortex, there is a path that leads to the city of the vortex queen, it is said that she will grant a wish to whoever overcomes the trials of this path. But the greatest danger is not the trials, but two evil forces, known as the witches of doom, sworn enemies of the queen and the witches of salvation.
You are a newcomer to the vortex, you remember where you were before but you don't know when you arrived here, you just woke up among the ruins of several forgotten and dead worlds. Will you face the trials of the vortex?
...
roleplay of dead roles and dead characters yes, I was also inspired by The Wizard of Oz
>name
>original role
>appearance
>background
combat system
roll 1d20 for narrative actions, the higher the roll, the more successful it will be. The harder the action, the higher the roll must be to succeed. Battles are won by strategy.
In this vortex, there is a path that leads to the city of the vortex queen, it is said that she will grant a wish to whoever overcomes the trials of this path. But the greatest danger is not the trials, but two evil forces, known as the witches of doom, sworn enemies of the queen and the witches of salvation.
You are a newcomer to the vortex, you remember where you were before but you don't know when you arrived here, you just woke up among the ruins of several forgotten and dead worlds. Will you face the trials of the vortex?
...
roleplay of dead roles and dead characters yes, I was also inspired by The Wizard of Oz
>name
>original role
>appearance
>background
combat system
roll 1d20 for narrative actions, the higher the roll, the more successful it will be. The harder the action, the higher the roll must be to succeed. Battles are won by strategy.
>>10544 →
Send mecha, let's go it's late, I don't care about appearing out of nowhere in front of a group of strangers who are fighting or doing who knows what, even better! to make it immersive I won't even read the thread beyond the introduction you gave, After all, arriving late to the party doesn't mean I'll miss the best part, right? just ask Solid Snake and Sonic in Smash Bros Brawl
A siren sound becomes audible to everyone present and not present, whether in their head, or reading this metatextually thus breaking the fourth wall
https://youtu.be/8JQ_OtGGG1c?si=twexXAJVp-hLGwrO
▶You can or cannot pay attention to it, ignore it if you wish, but he has already arrived, because saying he already came would make him look like a total wanker
..........
The siren sound stops, a shadowed silhouette is seen, it seemed he had set that alarm sound with a cell phone, and now he was playing a song as he approached
https://youtu.be/Qn0wLoKZDm4?si=PjgmDt2Oy2fzBW1R
▶
>name
Mattew David Smith
>original role
SuperLiminal >>115069
>appearance
Picosas
>background
Student, on vacation, Age 12 years old, lying under his sheets he closed his eyes and ended up in a place like those backrooms levels that kids watch on tiktok, he has an indestructible Katana that can cut anything and he is good at close combat, he was supposed to be in a city that imitated Texas, accompanied by a girl who looked like Alice, yes, Alice from the damn book Alice in Wonderland, only her name was Clara, Unfortunately he ended up getting lost and wandering aimlessly, until he ended up here, oh well, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade, right? this could make a good rap song
punch chichi pum punch punch chichi pum
He started beatboxing
https://youtu.be/a1ndsD3qq48?si=x_bA0FQIDGAvtrK3
▶Yeah...yeah!
My name is Mattew, my last name is Smith!
After a long time I've arrived here!
Walking aimlessly, without finding my home!
Cut from a thread, without forming a weave!
Living my life without an objective, he said!
I don't know what might find me now!
pum chika pum pum , zaaap!!
Send mecha, let's go it's late, I don't care about appearing out of nowhere in front of a group of strangers who are fighting or doing who knows what, even better! to make it immersive I won't even read the thread beyond the introduction you gave, After all, arriving late to the party doesn't mean I'll miss the best part, right? just ask Solid Snake and Sonic in Smash Bros Brawl
A siren sound becomes audible to everyone present and not present, whether in their head, or reading this metatextually thus breaking the fourth wall
https://youtu.be/8JQ_OtGGG1c?si=twexXAJVp-hLGwrO
▶You can or cannot pay attention to it, ignore it if you wish, but he has already arrived, because saying he already came would make him look like a total wanker..........
The siren sound stops, a shadowed silhouette is seen, it seemed he had set that alarm sound with a cell phone, and now he was playing a song as he approached
https://youtu.be/Qn0wLoKZDm4?si=PjgmDt2Oy2fzBW1R
▶>name
Mattew David Smith
>original role
SuperLiminal >>115069
>appearance
Picosas
>background
Student, on vacation, Age 12 years old, lying under his sheets he closed his eyes and ended up in a place like those backrooms levels that kids watch on tiktok, he has an indestructible Katana that can cut anything and he is good at close combat, he was supposed to be in a city that imitated Texas, accompanied by a girl who looked like Alice, yes, Alice from the damn book Alice in Wonderland, only her name was Clara, Unfortunately he ended up getting lost and wandering aimlessly, until he ended up here, oh well, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade, right? this could make a good rap song
punch chichi pum punch punch chichi pum
He started beatboxing
https://youtu.be/a1ndsD3qq48?si=x_bA0FQIDGAvtrK3
▶Yeah...yeah!My name is Mattew, my last name is Smith!
After a long time I've arrived here!
Walking aimlessly, without finding my home!
Cut from a thread, without forming a weave!
Living my life without an objective, he said!
I don't know what might find me now!
pum chika pum pum , zaaap!!
300,608
With an earthy, raw, and dry taste, Fluorite discreetly vomits argillic material. She disguises it by sketching a smile and rewinding memories that obey a soundless, formless voice. For the 800 years following the Betelgeuse supernova explosion, a parasitic frequency continually forces beings of the purest inclusions to expel clay and form Argilita. A full, direct, and immortal life form that escapes through desperate and scattered cries of eternal, mundane, simple, and extremely deformed conviction. Uncontemplable, as she believed herself to be forever, Uranocircita is unable to ring Argilita on the nearest horizon, full of stars. Tearing through the omnipresent clarity, she possesses an unshakeable belief that does not depend on an object of unshakeable belief worth believing in.
The silicoclastic species is a life form based on hives of dark particles stored in a defined chemical composition, minerals. From phosphates, sulfates, carbonates, silicates, and even fossilized resins, this species coexists on Earth alongside others of equal intelligence. Gems not only shine for their varied colors, abundant intelligence, strength, or beauty, but they stand out for their imperishable capacity. In short, immortality. Even if a gem's body breaks into a thousand pieces, as long as most of its fragments are recovered and the inclusions residing there remain, the gems will reassemble and revive time and time again. In this way, for over 300,000 years, gems have inhabited both an immaculate paradise and a war-torn hell.
The Crystalline Earth is an extensive island located on the ancient caldera of Yellowstone, in the northern hemisphere of the planet. This landmass hosts a large and unique ecosystem composed of organic and inorganic beings. On the island, animals, carbon-based terrestrial beings, do not exceed one meter in height. Mineral life forms and the evaporative phenotype of inclusions function as regulators and conservators for these species. Outside the island, in the ocean and on other continents, natural life develops without interruption. It is a fact that the saltwater mass covering the planet comprises 90% of the Earth's surface.
The Crust, is a giant underground complex located 100 kilometers below the Earth's surface, with an extent covering 5 tectonic plates under the ancient American continent, at the boundary between the lithosphere and the asthenosphere. In this subsoil lives the exocryde, a vast population of humans, carbon-based terrestrial beings, whose civilization numbers in the trillions of individuals. Mineral life forms and the magmatic phenotype of inclusions function as exterminators and annihilators for their species. Due to the heterogeneous presence of their inclusions throughout their complex composition, the imperishable capacity of exocrydes has deformed their immortality in perverse ways.
>Slots
None.
<Players
Leucosapphire
Taaffeite
<Waiting
Smoky Quartz
Rhodochrosite
https://youtu.be/VSZF6_StqYs?si=S_v35we0ckL_F5N3
▶
With an earthy, raw, and dry taste, Fluorite discreetly vomits argillic material. She disguises it by sketching a smile and rewinding memories that obey a soundless, formless voice. For the 800 years following the Betelgeuse supernova explosion, a parasitic frequency continually forces beings of the purest inclusions to expel clay and form Argilita. A full, direct, and immortal life form that escapes through desperate and scattered cries of eternal, mundane, simple, and extremely deformed conviction. Uncontemplable, as she believed herself to be forever, Uranocircita is unable to ring Argilita on the nearest horizon, full of stars. Tearing through the omnipresent clarity, she possesses an unshakeable belief that does not depend on an object of unshakeable belief worth believing in.
The silicoclastic species is a life form based on hives of dark particles stored in a defined chemical composition, minerals. From phosphates, sulfates, carbonates, silicates, and even fossilized resins, this species coexists on Earth alongside others of equal intelligence. Gems not only shine for their varied colors, abundant intelligence, strength, or beauty, but they stand out for their imperishable capacity. In short, immortality. Even if a gem's body breaks into a thousand pieces, as long as most of its fragments are recovered and the inclusions residing there remain, the gems will reassemble and revive time and time again. In this way, for over 300,000 years, gems have inhabited both an immaculate paradise and a war-torn hell.
The Crystalline Earth is an extensive island located on the ancient caldera of Yellowstone, in the northern hemisphere of the planet. This landmass hosts a large and unique ecosystem composed of organic and inorganic beings. On the island, animals, carbon-based terrestrial beings, do not exceed one meter in height. Mineral life forms and the evaporative phenotype of inclusions function as regulators and conservators for these species. Outside the island, in the ocean and on other continents, natural life develops without interruption. It is a fact that the saltwater mass covering the planet comprises 90% of the Earth's surface.
The Crust, is a giant underground complex located 100 kilometers below the Earth's surface, with an extent covering 5 tectonic plates under the ancient American continent, at the boundary between the lithosphere and the asthenosphere. In this subsoil lives the exocryde, a vast population of humans, carbon-based terrestrial beings, whose civilization numbers in the trillions of individuals. Mineral life forms and the magmatic phenotype of inclusions function as exterminators and annihilators for their species. Due to the heterogeneous presence of their inclusions throughout their complex composition, the imperishable capacity of exocrydes has deformed their immortality in perverse ways.
>Slots
None.
<Players
Leucosapphire
Taaffeite
<Waiting
Smoky Quartz
Rhodochrosite
https://youtu.be/VSZF6_StqYs?si=S_v35we0ckL_F5N3
▶
>>10451 →
>>10452 →
Padparadscha, enough... I understand what you mean... I'll help, but... Please stop...
>Under her gaze as Padparadscha held her by the cheeks
>She didn't want to look at her, not in this state, not after what happened
>Taaffeita was too ashamed of her weakness and her actions to do so
>If, at this moment, Padparadscha decided to abandon her, Taaffeita wouldn't complain
>It was for the best, it was undoubtedly for the best, and yet, Padparadscha continued to insist
>Why? Why would she want to have such a weak and pathetic gem like Taaffeita by her side at a time like this?
>That question is... extremely simple to answer
>Taaffeita knows the answer and yet refuses to accept it
>She doesn't want to hear it, she doesn't want to think about it, and she also doesn't want Padparadscha to continue with this
>If she did, she would only feel worse about herself, only increase her guilt, only... only...
>She just wants this to stop, and if she has to accompany her to do it, then she will
....You're right, Fluorite isn't here anymore. We had a meth take her off the planet. We thought it was for the best, I still think so...
>Her shoulders dropped even further as Padparadscha let go of her
>If she still had arms, she would be hugging herself as tightly as she could
>Lacking them, she sat back down, lifting her legs so she could bury her face against her knees
>She can't look at Padparadscha, not yet, if she's going to help her, she needs to calm herself down first
>Ignoring the rest, Taaffeita tried to isolate herself to better suppress her feelings
>However, she had heard something that caught her attention
>The so-called Iron seemed to be aware of Fluorite's location
>Something strange, as not even the pyroclastic gem herself knew despite working for the Homeworld
>Raising her face from above her knees, Taaffeita observed the talking alloy
>Addressing her to check her reaction when she revealed what happened to Fluorite
Rhodo... rhodonite, wasn't it? A while ago we captured one of her kind, or rather, she surrendered. Thanks to... Pink Diamond, we were able to obtain a lot of information about the Homeworld.
>Finally able to calm down, Taaffeita lowered her legs and stood up
>Walking with a slow step towards Rhodonite
>Upon seeing her face to face, Taaffeita's expression became complicated
>Until now, her experience with Homeworld gems has been quite bad
>Because of that, Taaffeita didn't see herself capable of looking favorably upon either Rhodonite or Iron
>Looking away, she leaned against the wall next to Rhodonite, then began to speak
>Her tone of voice was listless, as if what she was about to say drained her energy
I don't like her, she hides too much behind her self-pity and acts like a victim! Seeing someone responsible for so many abductions act that way makes me angry. I've wanted to hit her on more than one occasion, and I'd gladly do it right now! But... As much as I hate Pink Diamond... I never thought of destroying her, it would be enough for me if she and the rest of the gems like you disappeared to a faraway place after agreeing not to bother us. That... would be enough for me...
>Stomping her foot hard, Taaffeita complained aloud about Pink Diamond's behavior
>Everyone on the surface knows very well what she thinks of her and what she would do if she were alone with her for too long
>Taaffeita doesn't intend to sugarcoat those feelings, not even if she's on the Homeworld
>However, Taaffeita's hatred has a limit, and she knows that doing to them what they did to her wouldn't be right
>She doesn't intend to forgive the Homeworld, she doesn't intend to get along with anyone here, but she also doesn't intend to resort to violence
>Keeping her gaze locked with Padparadscha's, Taaffeite communicated with a simple look that she should please let go of Rhodochrosite
>Padparadscha, I'm sorry. You must be going through a lot right now too and... just like me, you also need someone to hold onto. I was wrong not to comfort you sooner, from now on I promise to be there for you no matter my state. I'm going to help you, I'm going to help all the gems I can! and for that... We're going to need some support.
>She remained silent during the conversation between Iron and Padparadscha
>Taaffeite just stood there, still, watching, listening, thinking
>Doing so, she was able to notice what she had been denying for so long
>Taaffeite, you're not the only one suffering right now, Padparadscha is too
>All her companions who ended up here must be feeling exactly the same
>Dwelling so much in her melancholy is not helpful, neither for her nor for the rest
>Walking towards Padparadscha, Taaffeite approached until she was right beside her
>Resting her head affectionately on Padparadscha's shoulder, Taaffeite apologized to her
>If she intends to rescue the rest, she cannot do it with low spirits
>She must be able to look at them with a confident face so they know everything will be alright
>Although, to achieve that she's going to need some extra help...
Honestly, I'm still not sure if this is a good idea. Just talking to gems from the court feels unnatural and immoral. However... after what I saw, I think I'm starting to understand them a little better. Living in a place capable of creating that pyroclastic gem abomination must be very terrifying. Maybe I too would lose my mind in such an environment...
>Directing her gaze towards Rhodochrosite and Iron, Taaffeite spoke
>Both her face and her words were full of insecurity and doubt, with a slight touch of frustration
>Having to resort to something like this is not something that will make her happy at all
>Nevertheless, just as she said, that pyroclastic gem helped her understand something
>The court gems are not soldiers who follow orders out of loyalty, but out of fear
>If that's the case, she can empathize, even if only a little, with them and stop seeing them as bitter enemies
>Instead, she should start thinking of the court gems as what they are...
>Individuals of their own kind who have been forced to attack them
What I'm trying to say is... If I really hope to achieve a future where we stop being enemies, I'm going to have to... make an exception and work alongside them. So, okay, what am I supposed to do?
>Swallowing her pride, Taaffeite took a step forward
>Clarifying once more her desire to end this conflict with the fewest possible casualties
>Whether they are court gems or surface gems, Taaffeite hopes they can all reach an agreement
>To achieve something like that, it is necessary for even her to show some trust in them
>Accepting Iron's terms sounded like a very suspicious and dangerous deal
>No, not just her, whether it was Iron, Rhodochrosite, or any other court gem, Taaffeite would doubt them anyway
>However, Iron had shown knowledge that the pyroclastic gem did not possess
>Which means she is at least not on their side
>It's little, it's very little, it's too little information to fully trust her word
>Nevertheless, she had no other options, so walking towards Iron, Taaffeite extended what little was left of her arms
>Looking at her with a face full of resignation, Taaffeite agreed to join with her
>>10539 →
>If I miraculously regain activity
Why the rush? it's not like you have to finish the roleplay in less than 2 years.
>>10452 →
Padparadscha, enough... I understand what you mean... I'll help, but... Please stop...
>Under her gaze as Padparadscha held her by the cheeks
>She didn't want to look at her, not in this state, not after what happened
>Taaffeita was too ashamed of her weakness and her actions to do so
>If, at this moment, Padparadscha decided to abandon her, Taaffeita wouldn't complain
>It was for the best, it was undoubtedly for the best, and yet, Padparadscha continued to insist
>Why? Why would she want to have such a weak and pathetic gem like Taaffeita by her side at a time like this?
>That question is... extremely simple to answer
>Taaffeita knows the answer and yet refuses to accept it
>She doesn't want to hear it, she doesn't want to think about it, and she also doesn't want Padparadscha to continue with this
>If she did, she would only feel worse about herself, only increase her guilt, only... only...
>She just wants this to stop, and if she has to accompany her to do it, then she will
....You're right, Fluorite isn't here anymore. We had a meth take her off the planet. We thought it was for the best, I still think so...
>Her shoulders dropped even further as Padparadscha let go of her
>If she still had arms, she would be hugging herself as tightly as she could
>Lacking them, she sat back down, lifting her legs so she could bury her face against her knees
>She can't look at Padparadscha, not yet, if she's going to help her, she needs to calm herself down first
>Ignoring the rest, Taaffeita tried to isolate herself to better suppress her feelings
>However, she had heard something that caught her attention
>The so-called Iron seemed to be aware of Fluorite's location
>Something strange, as not even the pyroclastic gem herself knew despite working for the Homeworld
>Raising her face from above her knees, Taaffeita observed the talking alloy
>Addressing her to check her reaction when she revealed what happened to Fluorite
Rhodo... rhodonite, wasn't it? A while ago we captured one of her kind, or rather, she surrendered. Thanks to... Pink Diamond, we were able to obtain a lot of information about the Homeworld.
>Finally able to calm down, Taaffeita lowered her legs and stood up
>Walking with a slow step towards Rhodonite
>Upon seeing her face to face, Taaffeita's expression became complicated
>Until now, her experience with Homeworld gems has been quite bad
>Because of that, Taaffeita didn't see herself capable of looking favorably upon either Rhodonite or Iron
>Looking away, she leaned against the wall next to Rhodonite, then began to speak
>Her tone of voice was listless, as if what she was about to say drained her energy
I don't like her, she hides too much behind her self-pity and acts like a victim! Seeing someone responsible for so many abductions act that way makes me angry. I've wanted to hit her on more than one occasion, and I'd gladly do it right now! But... As much as I hate Pink Diamond... I never thought of destroying her, it would be enough for me if she and the rest of the gems like you disappeared to a faraway place after agreeing not to bother us. That... would be enough for me...
>Stomping her foot hard, Taaffeita complained aloud about Pink Diamond's behavior
>Everyone on the surface knows very well what she thinks of her and what she would do if she were alone with her for too long
>Taaffeita doesn't intend to sugarcoat those feelings, not even if she's on the Homeworld
>However, Taaffeita's hatred has a limit, and she knows that doing to them what they did to her wouldn't be right
>She doesn't intend to forgive the Homeworld, she doesn't intend to get along with anyone here, but she also doesn't intend to resort to violence
>Keeping her gaze locked with Padparadscha's, Taaffeite communicated with a simple look that she should please let go of Rhodochrosite
>Padparadscha, I'm sorry. You must be going through a lot right now too and... just like me, you also need someone to hold onto. I was wrong not to comfort you sooner, from now on I promise to be there for you no matter my state. I'm going to help you, I'm going to help all the gems I can! and for that... We're going to need some support.
>She remained silent during the conversation between Iron and Padparadscha
>Taaffeite just stood there, still, watching, listening, thinking
>Doing so, she was able to notice what she had been denying for so long
>Taaffeite, you're not the only one suffering right now, Padparadscha is too
>All her companions who ended up here must be feeling exactly the same
>Dwelling so much in her melancholy is not helpful, neither for her nor for the rest
>Walking towards Padparadscha, Taaffeite approached until she was right beside her
>Resting her head affectionately on Padparadscha's shoulder, Taaffeite apologized to her
>If she intends to rescue the rest, she cannot do it with low spirits
>She must be able to look at them with a confident face so they know everything will be alright
>Although, to achieve that she's going to need some extra help...
Honestly, I'm still not sure if this is a good idea. Just talking to gems from the court feels unnatural and immoral. However... after what I saw, I think I'm starting to understand them a little better. Living in a place capable of creating that pyroclastic gem abomination must be very terrifying. Maybe I too would lose my mind in such an environment...
>Directing her gaze towards Rhodochrosite and Iron, Taaffeite spoke
>Both her face and her words were full of insecurity and doubt, with a slight touch of frustration
>Having to resort to something like this is not something that will make her happy at all
>Nevertheless, just as she said, that pyroclastic gem helped her understand something
>The court gems are not soldiers who follow orders out of loyalty, but out of fear
>If that's the case, she can empathize, even if only a little, with them and stop seeing them as bitter enemies
>Instead, she should start thinking of the court gems as what they are...
>Individuals of their own kind who have been forced to attack them
What I'm trying to say is... If I really hope to achieve a future where we stop being enemies, I'm going to have to... make an exception and work alongside them. So, okay, what am I supposed to do?
>Swallowing her pride, Taaffeite took a step forward
>Clarifying once more her desire to end this conflict with the fewest possible casualties
>Whether they are court gems or surface gems, Taaffeite hopes they can all reach an agreement
>To achieve something like that, it is necessary for even her to show some trust in them
>Accepting Iron's terms sounded like a very suspicious and dangerous deal
>No, not just her, whether it was Iron, Rhodochrosite, or any other court gem, Taaffeite would doubt them anyway
>However, Iron had shown knowledge that the pyroclastic gem did not possess
>Which means she is at least not on their side
>It's little, it's very little, it's too little information to fully trust her word
>Nevertheless, she had no other options, so walking towards Iron, Taaffeite extended what little was left of her arms
>Looking at her with a face full of resignation, Taaffeite agreed to join with her
>>10539 →
>If I miraculously regain activity
Why the rush? it's not like you have to finish the roleplay in less than 2 years.
>>10540 →
>Why the rush? It's not like you have to finish the roleplay in under 2 years.
I feel like my life will go to shit if I don't make drastic changes soon, in fact it was something I had already foreseen for around this time before starting the roleplay. I don't want Glaze to end up being... Bloodline Fever
>Why the rush? It's not like you have to finish the roleplay in under 2 years.
I feel like my life will go to shit if I don't make drastic changes soon, in fact it was something I had already foreseen for around this time before starting the roleplay. I don't want Glaze to end up being... Bloodline Fever
>>10453 →
>Temporarily losing visibility doesn't seem entirely bad, given how often she avoids eye contact with Uranus, though after a short while of not seeing her she feels a silly anxiety that she might never see her again, despite how unlikely it is that she'll disappear in those few seconds or that the light will never return. Within this same conversation, and her current situation in general, there are as many things that relieve her as make her doubt.
I've given so little importance to the name I'm given or the mineral I have now that I barely notice it, for me I'm still just me.
>Despite the number of times she's replaced parts of her body with parts of others and how those might affect her way of being or thinking, she spends less time worrying about it, so maybe that's a change, but an old one.
>It's the first time she's starting to doubt if the things she's done can also change who she is. Even if her personality remains the same, a gem that's always cheerful, helps, and protects her sisters must be different from a gem that's always cheerful, experiments with other gems, or sends them to sacrifice themselves saving humans.
I would be the last gem to give up on others, or give up in general. Starting to give up now would be quite cruel... It's just that saying I'd be willing to believe anyone who wants to be forgiven and hope others do the same for me is something different.
>Part of going against the others is being friends with those whom others would reject, the "defective" gems, the weird ones, the less popular ones, or those who don't have anyone else, partly also because those gems are interesting and she likes surprises.
>Giving up after everything she told Sapphire would be especially terrible, although she doesn't deny that her spirits drop a little more each time she fails at something, and that having failed to get a gem out of the dark place she was in and convince her it was worth living brings more negative thoughts to her head, even while seeing Circita.
Continuing to live is having more opportunities to build good memories. I think it's easier to do when you're not standing still in one place. At least I remember the few times I went somewhere different with my sisters better than the millions of times I stood under my teacher's window shaking a sword.
>She tries to give Uranocircita the brightest smile she can to compensate for the moments of darkness, alluding to all the time she must have spent in her cave without saying it directly, assuming she doesn't have many happy memories of it.
>Openly admitting that she greatly helped another gem or that she is someone worthy of trust, respect, or admiration is another difficult thing to say out loud, because of the times she has failed or thought the same of other gems.
>Hearing gems she could once rely on that she was the one who helped them is something strange, although it's probably good that even strong gems can show moments of vulnerability and it shouldn't be a bad thing that she also lets herself be comforted by others more physically fragile like Circita.
I trust you too, that's why I care a lot about what you think of me... It sounds horrible to say I'd expect you to reject me so hard it would hurt, but those are the kinds of worries I have sometimes and I think it's better not to say. I trust that whatever you do will be okay.
>She has a vague memory that holding another gem's hands was something dangerous or uncomfortable that she wouldn't want to do again even by accident, but holding Uranus's hands makes her feel so calm that she forgets why, even having an idea of where that idea came from, she no longer makes much sense of it.
>After looking into Circita's eyes for prolonged moments, it seems hers still doubt she's ready to do it and slightly unfocus as if trembling in their sockets, giving her a blurry appearance, almost returning the one she had before, when the radiation made her difficult to perceive and which she strangely now remembers fondly, as well as her less affectionate gestures that she associates so much with it.
Hehe... I get embarrassed with you sometimes too, but I like it, it's like a kind of embarrassment I only feel with you. With you I feel things I don't feel at any other time, or I feel them more strongly or differently.
>If at this point she's still trying to smile, it's more out of nervousness she's starting to feel after the things being said or in preparation for what she's about to do than for any other reason, this comforting feeling of shyness calms down during the seconds they remain connected and gains more strength when they separate and she hears Circita's reaction.
Th-that's what I've been wondering too. Where did you learn to...? No, are you talking about the thing Onyx gave me to try? O-ok, hm...
>By a slip-up, the first thing she says reveals the reaction she'd been holding back since the time they said goodbye, later she learns that Circita's curiosity is due to her occasional habit of putting strange things in her mouth, although she's grateful for it now for giving Uranus the desire to continue to rival the shyness she feels.
>>10454 →
>>10454 →
Do I have to be specific with names? Some called me Corundum and there are different types of those too... Hm, having a single gem with the planet's name would be an easy way to make the world turn to look at me, that should help with my popularity too.
>With the number of beings capable of voting left, everyone's popularity in a poll is going to drop a lot, in terms of numbers, it's a good time to weigh it with clasped hands and head tilted, even if she doesn't have sleeves large enough to cover the ends of her limbs as she'd like.
>Talking with her sisters about any topic, important or not, is undoubtedly better than the alternative of observing Dumortierite's hopeless and detached messages on multiple screens.
>She had long believed that Dum would be good at making videos for Peridotite's presentations, or at least capable of surprising her with something entertaining, and although the result she had in front of her was not exactly to her liking, she had to admit that it surprised her in the way Dumortierite managed to do, unpleasantly.
They appear out of nowhere, yes, although I don't know how opportune it could be for a strange being to come out of your mouth, unless you're trapped near the Earth's core surrounded by lava or something similar.
>She understands these beings as little as anyone else despite her prolonged and intimate interaction with a couple of them, so she doesn't have much to add about it, unlike her conversations with other gems from the crust, whether important or not.
Were you worried about me? That's sweet. Assuming you weren't looking for me as a fugitive from the law. Gips were smart, they surely still are, they would have done whatever they did for a good reason. You and Solid are fine now too, so everything is fine.
>The one who wasn't fine was Carnelian's other disciple, probably, but she faced this probability with the same nonchalance as Spectrolite's anxieties and suspicions towards Dumortierite.
All these matters are too tangled for me. If we really lost Onyx for good, that's a shame, she was a brilliant gem and I hoped she would have a better future than the present.
>She wasn't being entirely dishonest; the matter with Onyx had been so strange for her that she didn't quite understand what had really happened. She didn't register the information others gave her about it as more irrefutable facts than any rumor, and therefore didn't feel as much sorrow about it as she might have.
>If what she had seen and what they told her was indeed exactly what happened and she was just in denial, then she was unconsciously so because the pieces still didn't connect in her mind, and she hoped to see Onyx again someday, armed, playing with Kunzite, or giving a report on some screen.
>For similar reasons, she wasn't ready to reconsider her opinion of Carnelian as a possible culprit for what happened to Onyx, nor was there much need to do so since she didn't have her nearby and didn't know if she would in the near future.
If it's about walking around and looking until I find something interesting, I'm honestly sure I can do it. If the floor isn't made of magma, I don't feel like I'm going to melt again or anything like that.
>She answers Uranus' doubt with surprise, pretending not to understand why he doubts her ability to walk.
Promising that I want to return is enough to ensure that I will, I'm more sure of that than of wanting to get my teacher back under these circumstances.
>He expressed his doubts more seriously regarding those fragments of Ruby, not only because it still wasn't the world he would want to bring his master back to if he ever did, but because it seemed suspicious to learn about a place where he could conveniently recover the beloved master from whom he was separated even before descending to the crust.
>He hated suspecting others, but after so many attacks on his mineral life, he had no more desire than before to repair his master, even if it was the last chance he had to do so, he preferred to honor Padparadscha's feelings, even if for his own reasons.
The expression "outer world" implies the existence of an "inner world" separate from it, which is true because Circita is my world and I want her to turn and look at me and always gravitate close to me.
>He stares intently at Kunzite and replies in the same serious tone as before to her secondary implications, observing her demonstration with the same impassivity.
Attentive.
>He warns once before tossing Circita and attempting to throw her in the air like her sisters, seriously.
This is fun, but Circita's toughness wasn't the only reason she asked if she could come or not. I would love to have her with me and go explore as patrol partners, and I would hate for something more unpleasant than just breaking to happen during that exploration, and for one of us to end up blaming herself for it... But in the end, it's Circita's decision what she does, and whatever she makes makes sense to me. I am a firm ally of rebellion and I respect her decision, I would never take away someone's freedom to choose, and if I ever forced someone to do something, I did it without wanting them to obey me.
>He openly expresses his thoughts on the matter of exploration and the rights Uranus has as a gem, openly respecting her as an individual while still tossing her like a toy, still with a serious face.
>He finally places the ex-radioactive gem on the ground with more care than he picked her up and looks at her again, seriously.
Well, we already know it's physically possible for us to patrol together. Do you want to try it? If not... try to get away.
>He smiles as he intertwines his fingers with Circita's, although the grip is much less inescapable than his confidence suggests.
>One cannot live always being afraid of dying, as she once told someone, stopping for too long to doubt or worry wore down her patience, and she was a restless gem by nature; if someone's decision had consequences, well, all decisions did, and sooner or later she would have to bear them, whether she wanted to run from them or not.
>>10539 →
Did the chapters still have titles? I don't remember seeing one since Anatase, and I don't remember which one anymore.
>Temporarily losing visibility doesn't seem entirely bad, given how often she avoids eye contact with Uranus, though after a short while of not seeing her she feels a silly anxiety that she might never see her again, despite how unlikely it is that she'll disappear in those few seconds or that the light will never return. Within this same conversation, and her current situation in general, there are as many things that relieve her as make her doubt.
I've given so little importance to the name I'm given or the mineral I have now that I barely notice it, for me I'm still just me.
>Despite the number of times she's replaced parts of her body with parts of others and how those might affect her way of being or thinking, she spends less time worrying about it, so maybe that's a change, but an old one.
>It's the first time she's starting to doubt if the things she's done can also change who she is. Even if her personality remains the same, a gem that's always cheerful, helps, and protects her sisters must be different from a gem that's always cheerful, experiments with other gems, or sends them to sacrifice themselves saving humans.
I would be the last gem to give up on others, or give up in general. Starting to give up now would be quite cruel... It's just that saying I'd be willing to believe anyone who wants to be forgiven and hope others do the same for me is something different.
>Part of going against the others is being friends with those whom others would reject, the "defective" gems, the weird ones, the less popular ones, or those who don't have anyone else, partly also because those gems are interesting and she likes surprises.
>Giving up after everything she told Sapphire would be especially terrible, although she doesn't deny that her spirits drop a little more each time she fails at something, and that having failed to get a gem out of the dark place she was in and convince her it was worth living brings more negative thoughts to her head, even while seeing Circita.
Continuing to live is having more opportunities to build good memories. I think it's easier to do when you're not standing still in one place. At least I remember the few times I went somewhere different with my sisters better than the millions of times I stood under my teacher's window shaking a sword.
>She tries to give Uranocircita the brightest smile she can to compensate for the moments of darkness, alluding to all the time she must have spent in her cave without saying it directly, assuming she doesn't have many happy memories of it.
>Openly admitting that she greatly helped another gem or that she is someone worthy of trust, respect, or admiration is another difficult thing to say out loud, because of the times she has failed or thought the same of other gems.
>Hearing gems she could once rely on that she was the one who helped them is something strange, although it's probably good that even strong gems can show moments of vulnerability and it shouldn't be a bad thing that she also lets herself be comforted by others more physically fragile like Circita.
I trust you too, that's why I care a lot about what you think of me... It sounds horrible to say I'd expect you to reject me so hard it would hurt, but those are the kinds of worries I have sometimes and I think it's better not to say. I trust that whatever you do will be okay.
>She has a vague memory that holding another gem's hands was something dangerous or uncomfortable that she wouldn't want to do again even by accident, but holding Uranus's hands makes her feel so calm that she forgets why, even having an idea of where that idea came from, she no longer makes much sense of it.
>After looking into Circita's eyes for prolonged moments, it seems hers still doubt she's ready to do it and slightly unfocus as if trembling in their sockets, giving her a blurry appearance, almost returning the one she had before, when the radiation made her difficult to perceive and which she strangely now remembers fondly, as well as her less affectionate gestures that she associates so much with it.
Hehe... I get embarrassed with you sometimes too, but I like it, it's like a kind of embarrassment I only feel with you. With you I feel things I don't feel at any other time, or I feel them more strongly or differently.
>If at this point she's still trying to smile, it's more out of nervousness she's starting to feel after the things being said or in preparation for what she's about to do than for any other reason, this comforting feeling of shyness calms down during the seconds they remain connected and gains more strength when they separate and she hears Circita's reaction.
Th-that's what I've been wondering too. Where did you learn to...? No, are you talking about the thing Onyx gave me to try? O-ok, hm...
>By a slip-up, the first thing she says reveals the reaction she'd been holding back since the time they said goodbye, later she learns that Circita's curiosity is due to her occasional habit of putting strange things in her mouth, although she's grateful for it now for giving Uranus the desire to continue to rival the shyness she feels.
>>10454 →
>>10454 →
Do I have to be specific with names? Some called me Corundum and there are different types of those too... Hm, having a single gem with the planet's name would be an easy way to make the world turn to look at me, that should help with my popularity too.
>With the number of beings capable of voting left, everyone's popularity in a poll is going to drop a lot, in terms of numbers, it's a good time to weigh it with clasped hands and head tilted, even if she doesn't have sleeves large enough to cover the ends of her limbs as she'd like.
>Talking with her sisters about any topic, important or not, is undoubtedly better than the alternative of observing Dumortierite's hopeless and detached messages on multiple screens.
>She had long believed that Dum would be good at making videos for Peridotite's presentations, or at least capable of surprising her with something entertaining, and although the result she had in front of her was not exactly to her liking, she had to admit that it surprised her in the way Dumortierite managed to do, unpleasantly.
They appear out of nowhere, yes, although I don't know how opportune it could be for a strange being to come out of your mouth, unless you're trapped near the Earth's core surrounded by lava or something similar.
>She understands these beings as little as anyone else despite her prolonged and intimate interaction with a couple of them, so she doesn't have much to add about it, unlike her conversations with other gems from the crust, whether important or not.
Were you worried about me? That's sweet. Assuming you weren't looking for me as a fugitive from the law. Gips were smart, they surely still are, they would have done whatever they did for a good reason. You and Solid are fine now too, so everything is fine.
>The one who wasn't fine was Carnelian's other disciple, probably, but she faced this probability with the same nonchalance as Spectrolite's anxieties and suspicions towards Dumortierite.
All these matters are too tangled for me. If we really lost Onyx for good, that's a shame, she was a brilliant gem and I hoped she would have a better future than the present.
>She wasn't being entirely dishonest; the matter with Onyx had been so strange for her that she didn't quite understand what had really happened. She didn't register the information others gave her about it as more irrefutable facts than any rumor, and therefore didn't feel as much sorrow about it as she might have.
>If what she had seen and what they told her was indeed exactly what happened and she was just in denial, then she was unconsciously so because the pieces still didn't connect in her mind, and she hoped to see Onyx again someday, armed, playing with Kunzite, or giving a report on some screen.
>For similar reasons, she wasn't ready to reconsider her opinion of Carnelian as a possible culprit for what happened to Onyx, nor was there much need to do so since she didn't have her nearby and didn't know if she would in the near future.
If it's about walking around and looking until I find something interesting, I'm honestly sure I can do it. If the floor isn't made of magma, I don't feel like I'm going to melt again or anything like that.
>She answers Uranus' doubt with surprise, pretending not to understand why he doubts her ability to walk.
Promising that I want to return is enough to ensure that I will, I'm more sure of that than of wanting to get my teacher back under these circumstances.
>He expressed his doubts more seriously regarding those fragments of Ruby, not only because it still wasn't the world he would want to bring his master back to if he ever did, but because it seemed suspicious to learn about a place where he could conveniently recover the beloved master from whom he was separated even before descending to the crust.
>He hated suspecting others, but after so many attacks on his mineral life, he had no more desire than before to repair his master, even if it was the last chance he had to do so, he preferred to honor Padparadscha's feelings, even if for his own reasons.
The expression "outer world" implies the existence of an "inner world" separate from it, which is true because Circita is my world and I want her to turn and look at me and always gravitate close to me.
>He stares intently at Kunzite and replies in the same serious tone as before to her secondary implications, observing her demonstration with the same impassivity.
Attentive.
>He warns once before tossing Circita and attempting to throw her in the air like her sisters, seriously.
This is fun, but Circita's toughness wasn't the only reason she asked if she could come or not. I would love to have her with me and go explore as patrol partners, and I would hate for something more unpleasant than just breaking to happen during that exploration, and for one of us to end up blaming herself for it... But in the end, it's Circita's decision what she does, and whatever she makes makes sense to me. I am a firm ally of rebellion and I respect her decision, I would never take away someone's freedom to choose, and if I ever forced someone to do something, I did it without wanting them to obey me.
>He openly expresses his thoughts on the matter of exploration and the rights Uranus has as a gem, openly respecting her as an individual while still tossing her like a toy, still with a serious face.
>He finally places the ex-radioactive gem on the ground with more care than he picked her up and looks at her again, seriously.
Well, we already know it's physically possible for us to patrol together. Do you want to try it? If not... try to get away.
>He smiles as he intertwines his fingers with Circita's, although the grip is much less inescapable than his confidence suggests.
>One cannot live always being afraid of dying, as she once told someone, stopping for too long to doubt or worry wore down her patience, and she was a restless gem by nature; if someone's decision had consequences, well, all decisions did, and sooner or later she would have to bear them, whether she wanted to run from them or not.
>>10539 →
Did the chapters still have titles? I don't remember seeing one since Anatase, and I don't remember which one anymore.
After ten hours of storm, a bed was a bed. In Sonora, one learned that the desert forgave few things, except for three businesses that seemed blessed by God and protected by the devil. Gas stations, motels, and immigration. The first two at least didn't usually leave you stranded in the desert.
A coyote with a GPS bought in Tepito and hundreds of kilometers of gulf separated them from the American dream. Sleeping one more night wasn't going to change anyone's destiny. The group counted their pennies, heading towards the only truck stop motel with its lights on.
The counter had a bell, an ashtray filled to the point of looking like a funeral urn, and an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe taped on. An old woman, small and wrapped in a wool shawl, received them, even though the Sonora heat was enough to fry an egg on a truck's hood. Nine white ponytails swept the floor behind the counter like living brooms, betraying her from behind the counter. Having left behind so many brothels, roadside hotels, and roadside businesses where the question wasn't, "What do you sell?", but, "Why is this still open?", this didn't even manage to raise an eyebrow.
>Room for how many, my dears?
She was selecting bunches of keys for each group that economized by sharing rooms and, in the worst case, a bed. Next in line, it was your turn.
>Name
>Female or male
>Story
>Favorite thing (min. 1 thing)
A coyote with a GPS bought in Tepito and hundreds of kilometers of gulf separated them from the American dream. Sleeping one more night wasn't going to change anyone's destiny. The group counted their pennies, heading towards the only truck stop motel with its lights on.
The counter had a bell, an ashtray filled to the point of looking like a funeral urn, and an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe taped on. An old woman, small and wrapped in a wool shawl, received them, even though the Sonora heat was enough to fry an egg on a truck's hood. Nine white ponytails swept the floor behind the counter like living brooms, betraying her from behind the counter. Having left behind so many brothels, roadside hotels, and roadside businesses where the question wasn't, "What do you sell?", but, "Why is this still open?", this didn't even manage to raise an eyebrow.
>Room for how many, my dears?
She was selecting bunches of keys for each group that economized by sharing rooms and, in the worst case, a bed. Next in line, it was your turn.
>Name
>Female or male
>Story
>Favorite thing (min. 1 thing)
>>10535 →
Room for one, madam... miss... please forgive me, but with all due respect to your race, kitsune live a long time and guessing their age is difficult, so I don't mean to offend you by calling you madam
>Name
Matías Benjamín Rivadavia
>Female or male
Male
>History
Argentinian who lived in the USA, ex-FBI agent who didn't know internal affairs would set a trap for them along with the CIA, being betrayed along with his team in a raid on supposed Mexican narcos at the border, thus being put in a Mexican prison for 3 years, until now he managed to escape on a stormy night, now he is just tired and wishes to pay for a room with the little money he has hidden
>Favorite thing (min. 1 thing)
Before going to jail: His pistol
In Jail: a switchblade he still carries with him and that kept him safe from getting fucked, after an ex-girlfriend wanted to experiment with dildos he promised himself never to let anything be put up his ass again... unless....
Room for one, madam... miss... please forgive me, but with all due respect to your race, kitsune live a long time and guessing their age is difficult, so I don't mean to offend you by calling you madam
>Name
Matías Benjamín Rivadavia
>Female or male
Male
>History
Argentinian who lived in the USA, ex-FBI agent who didn't know internal affairs would set a trap for them along with the CIA, being betrayed along with his team in a raid on supposed Mexican narcos at the border, thus being put in a Mexican prison for 3 years, until now he managed to escape on a stormy night, now he is just tired and wishes to pay for a room with the little money he has hidden
>Favorite thing (min. 1 thing)
Before going to jail: His pistol
In Jail: a switchblade he still carries with him and that kept him safe from getting fucked, after an ex-girlfriend wanted to experiment with dildos he promised himself never to let anything be put up his ass again... unless....
>>10536 →
If no one else joins, tomorrow shift
If no one else joins, tomorrow shift
I'll settle for a sleeping bag in some warehouse...
>Name
Federico Madrazo aka "The Dried Gut"
>Female or Male
Worker
>History
Supreme hard worker. He's from Chiapas and worked as a construction worker since he was a kid. He moved to Monterrey as a migrant worker and worked the same job there. Now he's gone to chase the American dream working the same job. He has no days off, he spends his time working and working. He does everything, not just construction, he's had many jobs but his love is for hard labor. Single because of work. His only vice is work. He'll do any job for you as long as you pay him with a cold Coke and a fried egg sandwich with lots of homemade mayonnaise.
>Favorite thing (min. 1 thing)
An indestructible shovel he inherited from his hard-working great-grandfather.
>Name
Federico Madrazo aka "The Dried Gut"
>Female or Male
Worker
>History
Supreme hard worker. He's from Chiapas and worked as a construction worker since he was a kid. He moved to Monterrey as a migrant worker and worked the same job there. Now he's gone to chase the American dream working the same job. He has no days off, he spends his time working and working. He does everything, not just construction, he's had many jobs but his love is for hard labor. Single because of work. His only vice is work. He'll do any job for you as long as you pay him with a cold Coke and a fried egg sandwich with lots of homemade mayonnaise.
>Favorite thing (min. 1 thing)
An indestructible shovel he inherited from his hard-working great-grandfather.
Meta for Chainsaw Man roleplay sheets. Explain doubt, the combat system, and other things you have to say.
There are 3 types of sheets, each with its respective drawback or advantage: human, possessed, and devils.
<Humans
>Name
>Age
>Previous occupation (Any)
>Nationality
>Gender
>Why did you decide to join? (You can save the backstory for development throughout the roleplay)
>Devil with whom you have a contract
Name
>History or origin before being brought to SN
>What devil are you?
>Gender
>Demonic abilities
<Devils
>What devil are you?
>Demonic abilities
>Where were you captured
>What do you think of humans?
The sheets have numbers and are first come, first servedI would love to receive them all but OP has a life so there are a total of 7 slots: 1 Devil, 3 humans, and 3 possessed.
In case any anon loldies, another will be able to take their place with their respective character, unless the plot is too advanced. The combat system will be explained within the meta, as well as the devils with whom humans can make pacts, mainly to avoid making a bible as a meta presentation.
There are 3 types of sheets, each with its respective drawback or advantage: human, possessed, and devils.
<Humans
>Name
>Age
>Previous occupation (Any)
>Nationality
>Gender
>Why did you decide to join? (You can save the backstory for development throughout the roleplay)
>Devil with whom you have a contract
Name
>History or origin before being brought to SN
>What devil are you?
>Gender
>Demonic abilities
<Devils
>What devil are you?
>Demonic abilities
>Where were you captured
>What do you think of humans?
The sheets have numbers and are first come, first served
In case any anon loldies, another will be able to take their place with their respective character, unless the plot is too advanced. The combat system will be explained within the meta, as well as the devils with whom humans can make pacts, mainly to avoid making a bible as a meta presentation.
>>6198 →
>Name
Carmelita H. Mbappé
>Age
24
>Previous occupation (Whatever it is)
Immigrant/Psychologist
>Nationality
African - Cape Verde
>Gender
Titty
>Why did you decide to join?
It was this or prostitution.
>Demon with whom you have a contract
Demon of women
>Name
Carmelita H. Mbappé
>Age
24
>Previous occupation (Whatever it is)
Immigrant/Psychologist
>Nationality
African - Cape Verde
>Gender
Titty
>Why did you decide to join?
It was this or prostitution.
>Demon with whom you have a contract
Demon of women
https://youtu.be/BWY_eSrtXX0?si=gT6BnsKcJRMgmMa6
▶Y who would have imagined. The third one arrived. They say the third is the one to be defeated. They say... But here, we don't stop until we're number one.
A lot of crap happened last time. Tough guys, crazy powers, and some trauma.
This path to the top can be cool, or it can totally stink. Who knows... we'll have to find out. So go ahead, open your notepad, write your turn, and accompany your character in this desperate fight
▶Y who would have imagined. The third one arrived. They say the third is the one to be defeated. They say... But here, we don't stop until we're number one.A lot of crap happened last time. Tough guys, crazy powers, and some trauma.
This path to the top can be cool, or it can totally stink. Who knows... we'll have to find out. So go ahead, open your notepad, write your turn, and accompany your character in this desperate fight
Turnos mañana
>>6641 →
Your insults and provocations were lost in the air like dust. Paolo entered the room with a changed chip. Now he was going to speak with a blade, and not of paper, but of sharp neon. kek
The knife wavered before you, marking the line drawn by your opponent. He challenged you to cross it, and you, already accustomed to crossing any line, lowered your body. The force of your muscles preparing for the lunge opened holes beneath your feet, which joined into a small crater once you launched yourself forward.
The wind spread like your wings, everything not tied to the ground shot out behind you.
You were a bullet devouring distance in the blink of an eye. An anti-tank. But though the earth trembled with your advance, not a hair on Paolo's head moved.
You made a swift exchange, yielding the lead to your jacket in a blinding throw. The thug reacted as if by reflex, his hand descended in a diagonal so swift and perfect it seemed magnetized. The neon imprinted its advance with its celestial light, which illuminated the fabric before spreading throughout it in less than a second, incinerating it like paper in the sun.
But it was a feint. Your shoe relieved your jacket, and it was all that was reflected in the enemy's glasses before the impact that combined all the movement into an omnidirectional blizzard—which did move a hair—
But the collision was strange. Not as solid as a face, not as weak as a neck. You felt pressure increase around your foot, as if the shoe were shrinking in real-time. Your foot trembled in the struggle, you could neither advance nor retract it.
Looking closer, it was firmly locked between the thug's fingers, who raised his off-hand just an instant before the impact. And then, he twisted it.
Quick, for him, like turning a doorknob abruptly, for you, it was as if two knives entered both your ankles at once. Your bones cracked like a branch as your foot turned completely, now facing the same direction as your back.
<Ryu 90%
Paolo gave your foot a shove to push you away. You detached from the ground half a meter, but didn't lose your balance. You planted both feet back on the ground, though they faced opposite directions which doesn't hurt because No More Heroes and you destroyed the half meter by suddenly launching your arm straight at your enemy.
Paolo reacted. He raised the knife, but by the way he held it, it only grazed you with the handle. The blow was enough to leave a bruise and slightly deflect the trajectory, but not to cause a parry or truly injure you.
Your hands grab the thug's hair, and you yank him off the ground like a carrot. Through the light showing through his glasses, you can see his eyes roll up for a moment as you close your hand, compressing the wind between your fingers with a burst.
>Paolo
"Again with this...?" – he muttered to himself, in that tone we use when analyzing situations–
<Alright, now.
They locked eyes.
<Stay still.
"..."
He shrugged. And your knuckles invaded his face. The crack echoed through the entire room, the chandelier fell, the walls cracked.
<Paolo 90%
You pulled back your fist, then threw it forward again—your punch buried into his face with increased force, as if the last one had been mere practice. The thunderous impact shattered every window in the house, in the entire block.
<Paolo: 85%
Another. One more. Your fist struck again with a titanic collision. Like a personal train running over a suicide victim, you felt Paolo’s facial flesh mold around your hand, yielding to let your fist pass through. Muscles softening, flesh crushing—and that sweet sensation when the vibrations—turned sound by contact—of that CRACK tell you that you’ve broken something, compensating for the exponential increase in strength.
<Paolo 80%
But the impact came afterward. The energy transferred to the criminal, and he went flying. A strand of hair remained in your hand, as the shockwave of wind wreaked havoc. The room collapsed completely, walls falling away, replaced by dust, and outside, car alarms blared across the street from the sheer force of your punch.
Yet there was no moment to rest. Dust is usually used for dramatic effect, but the smart ones exploit it. The lights from the knife, still floating in the air, slightly blurred by the thick cloud of dust blocking your view of the yard—where you were practically already standing—suddenly reactivated.
You heard something like a whistle—the kind an airplane makes—close to your ear. You managed to track it with your vision. It was the neon blade being launched.
It grazed your face, matching the haircut, making you lose a chunk of hair on the side Ryu degradé kek before it buried into the ground and vanished.
Then, Paolo returned. Walking through the dust, nose crooked and bleeding, brandishing the knife.
"You fight like a woman... not that I care..."
Behind him, countless lights flashed through the haze, as if he had turned on the stadium lights of a baseball field. Blue dots identical to the one that had just missed you by mere centimeters. Floating blades.
"...they all end the same..."
The criminal tapped the base of his knife’s hilt, and every neon light shot toward you—a rain of stabbing blades leaving glowing trails.
Paolo: 1d100 = 94
Your insults and provocations were lost in the air like dust. Paolo entered the room with a changed chip. Now he was going to speak with a blade, and not of paper, but of sharp neon. kek
The knife wavered before you, marking the line drawn by your opponent. He challenged you to cross it, and you, already accustomed to crossing any line, lowered your body. The force of your muscles preparing for the lunge opened holes beneath your feet, which joined into a small crater once you launched yourself forward.
The wind spread like your wings, everything not tied to the ground shot out behind you.
You were a bullet devouring distance in the blink of an eye. An anti-tank. But though the earth trembled with your advance, not a hair on Paolo's head moved.
You made a swift exchange, yielding the lead to your jacket in a blinding throw. The thug reacted as if by reflex, his hand descended in a diagonal so swift and perfect it seemed magnetized. The neon imprinted its advance with its celestial light, which illuminated the fabric before spreading throughout it in less than a second, incinerating it like paper in the sun.
But it was a feint. Your shoe relieved your jacket, and it was all that was reflected in the enemy's glasses before the impact that combined all the movement into an omnidirectional blizzard—which did move a hair—
But the collision was strange. Not as solid as a face, not as weak as a neck. You felt pressure increase around your foot, as if the shoe were shrinking in real-time. Your foot trembled in the struggle, you could neither advance nor retract it.
Looking closer, it was firmly locked between the thug's fingers, who raised his off-hand just an instant before the impact. And then, he twisted it.
Quick, for him, like turning a doorknob abruptly, for you, it was as if two knives entered both your ankles at once. Your bones cracked like a branch as your foot turned completely, now facing the same direction as your back.
<Ryu 90%
Paolo gave your foot a shove to push you away. You detached from the ground half a meter, but didn't lose your balance. You planted both feet back on the ground, though they faced opposite directions which doesn't hurt because No More Heroes and you destroyed the half meter by suddenly launching your arm straight at your enemy.
Paolo reacted. He raised the knife, but by the way he held it, it only grazed you with the handle. The blow was enough to leave a bruise and slightly deflect the trajectory, but not to cause a parry or truly injure you.
Your hands grab the thug's hair, and you yank him off the ground like a carrot. Through the light showing through his glasses, you can see his eyes roll up for a moment as you close your hand, compressing the wind between your fingers with a burst.
>Paolo
"Again with this...?" – he muttered to himself, in that tone we use when analyzing situations–
<Alright, now.
They locked eyes.
<Stay still.
"..."
He shrugged. And your knuckles invaded his face. The crack echoed through the entire room, the chandelier fell, the walls cracked.
<Paolo 90%
You pulled back your fist, then threw it forward again—your punch buried into his face with increased force, as if the last one had been mere practice. The thunderous impact shattered every window in the house, in the entire block.
<Paolo: 85%
Another. One more. Your fist struck again with a titanic collision. Like a personal train running over a suicide victim, you felt Paolo’s facial flesh mold around your hand, yielding to let your fist pass through. Muscles softening, flesh crushing—and that sweet sensation when the vibrations—turned sound by contact—of that CRACK tell you that you’ve broken something, compensating for the exponential increase in strength.
<Paolo 80%
But the impact came afterward. The energy transferred to the criminal, and he went flying. A strand of hair remained in your hand, as the shockwave of wind wreaked havoc. The room collapsed completely, walls falling away, replaced by dust, and outside, car alarms blared across the street from the sheer force of your punch.
Yet there was no moment to rest. Dust is usually used for dramatic effect, but the smart ones exploit it. The lights from the knife, still floating in the air, slightly blurred by the thick cloud of dust blocking your view of the yard—where you were practically already standing—suddenly reactivated.
You heard something like a whistle—the kind an airplane makes—close to your ear. You managed to track it with your vision. It was the neon blade being launched.
It grazed your face, matching the haircut, making you lose a chunk of hair on the side Ryu degradé kek before it buried into the ground and vanished.
Then, Paolo returned. Walking through the dust, nose crooked and bleeding, brandishing the knife.
"You fight like a woman... not that I care..."
Behind him, countless lights flashed through the haze, as if he had turned on the stadium lights of a baseball field. Blue dots identical to the one that had just missed you by mere centimeters. Floating blades.
"...they all end the same..."
The criminal tapped the base of his knife’s hilt, and every neon light shot toward you—a rain of stabbing blades leaving glowing trails.
Paolo: 1d100 = 94
>>6701 →
As it concerns us
This was the last battle to win the war. Dimitri looked at you with the disdain deserved by all those not protected under the equality of the red flag... but you ignored him, like you ignore all politics in this country, and walked past him.
Dimitri let out a few small laughs, and turned with some interest to watch you make the bartender tremble.
>Bartender
"A-ah, Dimitri, he's coming this way..."
As you approached, he stepped back, hands raised in fear and the desire to create more distance. But by the time you reached the bar, his back had already hit the wall. Your hand landed on the wood and the fat man lost his composure and balance with a scream.
"AAH!"
You jumped over the bar. Your feet touched the ground at the same time as the fat man's ass, who now saw you from below. You also ignored his pathetic display and went straight for the alcohol, which lined the walls in its transparent form, your rage manifesting in the atmosphere. The vodka in the bottles bubbled for an instant it just works before you exploded.
<RAHHHHHH!
"Aahh!" - he raised his arms to defend his head -
You turned your fists into a rain, and your fists turned the bottles into another rain. The alcohol and glass exploded in unison from the rapid movement, like a single balloon filled with vodka and crystal splashing in all directions.
For you, it was like watching in slow motion, the liquid growing in the air like a puddle under a dripping faucet. You hit even faster, the shards of glass turned to dust, and the small bodies of alcohol, barely drops.
The glass stuck to your fingers, usually harder than granite. Because you hit too fast and too hard, or something. From these cuts, you managed to get the alcohol and poison of 29 into your system.
This is because... you hit so hard that... when your knuckles collided with the alcohol, they filtered into the small space between the shards and the cut they left, thus entering your blood and leaving you tipsy.
"Th-the drinks!"
Having decimated the vodka population, taking only one hostage. You raised the bottle, previously uncorked, and drank it down, like those fat guys who chug water, finishing the bottle. The attentive eye could see a swirl for the thousandth of a thousandth of a second it took you to drink it.
>Dimitri
"Hmph. I see you liked the vodka."
30. You were now officially drunk. It would make the fight more fun. You were going to ring the bell for the first round.
You smashed the bottle against the wall, the glass spray made the bartender flinch. You then gave a sharp turn, releasing the sharp remnants of the bottle in a movement so strong that it shot out a burst of the glass you had in your hand. Accompanied, of course, by their respective trails of blood.
The crystal fleet turned red like blown glass. Your blood evaporated like a memory, but the Soviet was unimpressed. You raised your hand and thumb in a shooting combo. The wrench broke the sound and intercepted the bottles in an instant. A chime. Sharp as only glass can be. And the mouth of the bottle exploded, increasing the ammunition by splitting it, and causing a deflection in the wrench.
A takeoff. The upward diagonal went straight towards the Soviet's gigantic shoulder like a heat-seeking missile. The metal was about to pierce his flesh when he moved a hand like Casillas in 2010 and caught your weapon between his index and thumb.
"You call this a wrench?" he asked, bringing it before his eyes. "It looks like it's for opening a little girl's diary."
The first attempt failed, but there was no time to waste. You shot another wrench, faster, stronger, at that very instant. The same one flew. It bounced off another piece of glass that was still halfway there, and jumped like a magnet straight towards the other wrench.
The jagged tips of the wrenches crossed in an instant. Sparks flew violently right before Dimitri's eyes - he didn't even blink - and ignited a fire that turned the wrench into a perfect thousand-degree knife.
Next instant. The sound of impaled flesh echoed. A clean, brutal cut straight to the neck. Not even Dimitri could remain indifferent. His eyes lowered to see his blood dripping from his prominent Adam's apple.
"..."
<Dimitri 90%
"..."
He looked up again and finally frowned.
<I came for your life.
"So be it..."
Dimitri copied your move. He shot your wrench from his thumb, and it, in an instant, collided with a hundred pieces of crystal that were about to hit him, making them explode into more harmless fragments before embedding itself in the floor.
"But everything you do... we can do better."
Dimitri reached into his huge pockets, and without much searching, pulled out, in one hand, a sickle... and in the other, a hammer.
"DIE, CAPITALIST PIG!"
The Soviet threw the sickle from his left hand horizontally, it spun as if looking to decapitate you, while the giant came behind with the hammer over his shoulder. He spun it between his fingers with the mastery that years give, and threw it at you with the combined power of effort and European steroids. The air vibrated, as the hammer entered a violent curve that sought to hit you in the ribs.
1d100 = 96
As it concerns us
This was the last battle to win the war. Dimitri looked at you with the disdain deserved by all those not protected under the equality of the red flag... but you ignored him, like you ignore all politics in this country, and walked past him.
Dimitri let out a few small laughs, and turned with some interest to watch you make the bartender tremble.
>Bartender
"A-ah, Dimitri, he's coming this way..."
As you approached, he stepped back, hands raised in fear and the desire to create more distance. But by the time you reached the bar, his back had already hit the wall. Your hand landed on the wood and the fat man lost his composure and balance with a scream.
"AAH!"
You jumped over the bar. Your feet touched the ground at the same time as the fat man's ass, who now saw you from below. You also ignored his pathetic display and went straight for the alcohol, which lined the walls in its transparent form, your rage manifesting in the atmosphere. The vodka in the bottles bubbled for an instant it just works before you exploded.
<RAHHHHHH!
"Aahh!" - he raised his arms to defend his head -
You turned your fists into a rain, and your fists turned the bottles into another rain. The alcohol and glass exploded in unison from the rapid movement, like a single balloon filled with vodka and crystal splashing in all directions.
For you, it was like watching in slow motion, the liquid growing in the air like a puddle under a dripping faucet. You hit even faster, the shards of glass turned to dust, and the small bodies of alcohol, barely drops.
The glass stuck to your fingers, usually harder than granite. Because you hit too fast and too hard, or something. From these cuts, you managed to get the alcohol and poison of 29 into your system.
This is because... you hit so hard that... when your knuckles collided with the alcohol, they filtered into the small space between the shards and the cut they left, thus entering your blood and leaving you tipsy.
"Th-the drinks!"
Having decimated the vodka population, taking only one hostage. You raised the bottle, previously uncorked, and drank it down, like those fat guys who chug water, finishing the bottle. The attentive eye could see a swirl for the thousandth of a thousandth of a second it took you to drink it.
>Dimitri
"Hmph. I see you liked the vodka."
30. You were now officially drunk. It would make the fight more fun. You were going to ring the bell for the first round.
You smashed the bottle against the wall, the glass spray made the bartender flinch. You then gave a sharp turn, releasing the sharp remnants of the bottle in a movement so strong that it shot out a burst of the glass you had in your hand. Accompanied, of course, by their respective trails of blood.
The crystal fleet turned red like blown glass. Your blood evaporated like a memory, but the Soviet was unimpressed. You raised your hand and thumb in a shooting combo. The wrench broke the sound and intercepted the bottles in an instant. A chime. Sharp as only glass can be. And the mouth of the bottle exploded, increasing the ammunition by splitting it, and causing a deflection in the wrench.
A takeoff. The upward diagonal went straight towards the Soviet's gigantic shoulder like a heat-seeking missile. The metal was about to pierce his flesh when he moved a hand like Casillas in 2010 and caught your weapon between his index and thumb.
"You call this a wrench?" he asked, bringing it before his eyes. "It looks like it's for opening a little girl's diary."
The first attempt failed, but there was no time to waste. You shot another wrench, faster, stronger, at that very instant. The same one flew. It bounced off another piece of glass that was still halfway there, and jumped like a magnet straight towards the other wrench.
The jagged tips of the wrenches crossed in an instant. Sparks flew violently right before Dimitri's eyes - he didn't even blink - and ignited a fire that turned the wrench into a perfect thousand-degree knife.
Next instant. The sound of impaled flesh echoed. A clean, brutal cut straight to the neck. Not even Dimitri could remain indifferent. His eyes lowered to see his blood dripping from his prominent Adam's apple.
"..."
<Dimitri 90%
"..."
He looked up again and finally frowned.
<I came for your life.
"So be it..."
Dimitri copied your move. He shot your wrench from his thumb, and it, in an instant, collided with a hundred pieces of crystal that were about to hit him, making them explode into more harmless fragments before embedding itself in the floor.
"But everything you do... we can do better."
Dimitri reached into his huge pockets, and without much searching, pulled out, in one hand, a sickle... and in the other, a hammer.
"DIE, CAPITALIST PIG!"
The Soviet threw the sickle from his left hand horizontally, it spun as if looking to decapitate you, while the giant came behind with the hammer over his shoulder. He spun it between his fingers with the mastery that years give, and threw it at you with the combined power of effort and European steroids. The air vibrated, as the hammer entered a violent curve that sought to hit you in the ribs.
1d100 = 96
Meta thread for the Jujutsu Kaisen roleplay sheets I'll open in the coming days. Like tomorrow or the day after. Ask your questions, I'll nerf yours. General discussion of what's coming once I fill the slots.
Here's the sheet:
>Name
Your name
>Age
Well, everyone starts at 15
>Nationality
Doesn't matter, but somehow everyone speaks Japanese kek
>Gender
You know, male, female
>History?
If you want to detail it. The roleplay will already start at the sorcery school, so it would just be about how you discovered your powers, or if instead you don't have cursed energy and just have a lot of strength like Toji
>Cursed Technique
Your special ability, it can be a totally original one or one inherited from the series (as long as it's not infinity kek)
Obviously you can't have Toji's heavenly restriction and a cursed technique, so you have to choose.
There will be no stats. We're going to play with pure d100 rolls, which I always found the most fun.
Here's the sheet:
>Name
Your name
>Age
Well, everyone starts at 15
>Nationality
Doesn't matter, but somehow everyone speaks Japanese kek
>Gender
You know, male, female
>History?
If you want to detail it. The roleplay will already start at the sorcery school, so it would just be about how you discovered your powers, or if instead you don't have cursed energy and just have a lot of strength like Toji
>Cursed Technique
Your special ability, it can be a totally original one or one inherited from the series (as long as it's not infinity kek)
Obviously you can't have Toji's heavenly restriction and a cursed technique, so you have to choose.
There will be no stats. We're going to play with pure d100 rolls, which I always found the most fun.
>>7302 →
>watch it in one roleplay sitting, you son of a bitch
"Waoh, I guess I gotta do it now"
>>7304 →
Should we do it? I have no problem, just respond to Kyoto's last turn (the general) and we'll pretend you were always there.
Better to have all the assets together. Too bad the experiment failed, I liked the idea of the festival.
>>7306 →
Keksito. Perfect then. I won't wait for you. We're similar anyway. Best of luck with whatever you have to do, little black boy, come back whenever you want and can.
>What do you say about Kyoto?
He accepted his superiority.
>>7307 →
>how the hell do you not finish a 9-episode series?
Well, it disappointed me and I dropped it, kek
>If it's just going to be adventures where the circus background and characters don't matter much
That was my idea, yes. Keksito.
>watching 3 episodes is more than enough for you
I dropped it at episode 4, I think. The last one I saw was the baseball one. Then I didn't have the motivation to continue.
>then by all means you have to watch at least up to 8 along with several theory videos
I was planning to finish the series someday... someday...
I guess I'm not the right person to handle that role, it wasn't my idea to make it lore-shit!
>When you see
These days. I'll respond when Dante takes his turn so there are at least 3 of us, kek
>>10324 →
Okay, I'll wait for you.
>watch it in one roleplay sitting, you son of a bitch
"Waoh, I guess I gotta do it now"
>>7304 →
Should we do it? I have no problem, just respond to Kyoto's last turn (the general) and we'll pretend you were always there.
Better to have all the assets together. Too bad the experiment failed, I liked the idea of the festival.
>>7306 →
Keksito. Perfect then. I won't wait for you. We're similar anyway. Best of luck with whatever you have to do, little black boy, come back whenever you want and can.
>What do you say about Kyoto?
He accepted his superiority.
>>7307 →
>how the hell do you not finish a 9-episode series?
Well, it disappointed me and I dropped it, kek
>If it's just going to be adventures where the circus background and characters don't matter much
That was my idea, yes. Keksito.
>watching 3 episodes is more than enough for you
I dropped it at episode 4, I think. The last one I saw was the baseball one. Then I didn't have the motivation to continue.
>then by all means you have to watch at least up to 8 along with several theory videos
I was planning to finish the series someday... someday...
I guess I'm not the right person to handle that role, it wasn't my idea to make it lore-shit!
>When you see
These days. I'll respond when Dante takes his turn so there are at least 3 of us, kek
>>10324 →
Okay, I'll wait for you.
>>10325 →
>it disappointed me and I left her
It deflated as it went on, so I don't blame you either
>It wasn't my idea to do lore shit!
Putting lore in would imply there's a goal to reach and that kind of ending stuff doesn't go well with hisrol... Episode style would be best, although the concept of a "caricature episodic" roleplay works with practically anything, even a supermarket. Imagine something like a regular show where you go to get fish to restock and end up fighting Poseidon for some kek reasons
>so that we can be 3
With Kumiko and Amara it would already be 3, although well Amara didn't respond to what you said so... yep I said nothing
>it disappointed me and I left her
It deflated as it went on, so I don't blame you either
>It wasn't my idea to do lore shit!
Putting lore in would imply there's a goal to reach and that kind of ending stuff doesn't go well with hisrol... Episode style would be best, although the concept of a "caricature episodic" roleplay works with practically anything, even a supermarket. Imagine something like a regular show where you go to get fish to restock and end up fighting Poseidon for some kek reasons
>so that we can be 3
With Kumiko and Amara it would already be 3, although well Amara didn't respond to what you said so... yep I said nothing
(The chapter says "Cece")
Once upon a time... there was a little girl who wore a beautifulcape/head of hair of red color. Wherever she went, that color followed, so they nicknamed her Little Red Riding Hood RED.
Little Red Riding Hood Red was a good and affectionate somewhat mischievous girl who lived without family in a beautiful (foster) home in the middle of the forest.
One day, her mother [SHE DIDN'T LOVE HER ANYMORE?!]
And so, her days passed... without a family.
(...)
(The chapter says "Little Red Riding Hood")
Once upon a time... A world plunged into darkness by an indescribable evil.
A world where hope was extinguished.
Until from the darkness... A heroine appeared, and together with her three friends and the three stones of the goddesses, she completely banished evil... Thus saving the universe and all realities before disappearing forever.
...unlike the evil, which could be just around the corner.
(But luckily... We have a legendary girl on our side!)
Little Red Riding Hood, who was supposed to beware of the wolf, is now a viking. Very strong and all. Her axe an instrument of justice, although sometimes it seems more propitious for...
What matters is that she wants to save us! Now it's up to her to find the 3 companions who can help her. Or does she no longer need to search?
Whatever the case, the temple. Today, that is the place... that the human team must overcome.
turnos enka minoh
Once upon a time... there was a little girl who wore a beautiful
One day, her mother [SHE DIDN'T LOVE HER ANYMORE?!]
And so, her days passed... without a family.
(...)
(The chapter says "Little Red Riding Hood")
Once upon a time... A world plunged into darkness by an indescribable evil.
A world where hope was extinguished.
Until from the darkness... A heroine appeared, and together with her three friends and the three stones of the goddesses, she completely banished evil... Thus saving the universe and all realities before disappearing forever.
...unlike the evil, which could be just around the corner.
(But luckily... We have a legendary girl on our side!)
Little Red Riding Hood, who was supposed to beware of the wolf, is now a viking. Very strong and all. Her axe an instrument of justice, although sometimes it seems more propitious for...
What matters is that she wants to save us! Now it's up to her to find the 3 companions who can help her. Or does she no longer need to search?
Whatever the case, the temple. Today, that is the place... that the human team must overcome.
turnos enka minoh
Cece's turn tomorrow. I got inspired kek
>>1838 →
>Looks like a Gerudo, or do all Gerudo look like Din?
Secondly, we have to remember that Din shares a name with the primordial goddess from Zelda. So it comes from there. Same with Nayru and Farore.
Din gave the Gerudo their darkness.
>It's because in that game the star is Midna
I know, and it's understandable, but at the same time it's, in part, a pity. I'm not saying it about the Zelda in that game, who we only see being solemn and such, but more aboutshort-haired Alicia Ilia, she had so much potential. What a shame how they left her completely aside. She had the advantage of being a childhood friend and all little keks with that ending, she was totally devoted! But Link got bewitched by the damn dark world and abandoned her.
>A question capable of starting a war between two realms: Which do you prefer? Imp Midna or True Form Midna?
Is there anyone who prefers the big form?
>Imp Midna full force, kek. Nintendo created a genre with her.
I agree. It's impossible not to love her when you talk to her and she says "awgsgehw piiii"
Kek that "piii" she said at the end with her sweet voice full of echo always liked me. And then the moan she made when you accelerated in wolf form. They knew what they were doing.
>Your impressions are making me want to play it again. But I can't, the backlog! The backlog!
Little keks. It's crazy, the backlog just grows, and grows. It seems impossible to defeat! I almost give up.
>It's recommended to bump into her
I did it, just to see her a couple of times. But it wasn't very useful to me honestly. Now I don't remember well if she dropped a potion once or if I'm imagining it, but that would be the only interesting thing. Well, and that after bumping into her a lot she started flying in a vacuum cleaner kek
>also hers, so you can steal from her, kek
I always did it, Argensimio mode of Buenos Hambres, I didn't leave her a single cent. The worst part is that I didn't need it kek, I don't know how but most of the game I went with the rupees at max.
>Surely many kids liked her attitude, they grew up, started drawing her, and that's when her fame solidified.
She has that something that sparks a cute childish crush. I felt something similar when I was little towards some mean girls in cartoons; Maple wasn't mean-mean, but she was grumpy and haughty. That attracts too, kek. I get it, I get it.
>You'll have to wait for the Oracles to get remade so that, maybe, you can get some more interaction with her.
Better make A Link To The Past more fun for me.
>Noooooo, you ruined one of my favorite races, I hate you!
Little kek
>As a counter, I'll let you know that surely Saria turned into an ugly and short Kolog.
Yeah, I had that in mind, little kek.
If you recall, the Kokiri already become those since Wind Waker, although if I remember right they were still called Kokiri there. In fact, there's a theory that says they actually always looked like that, like leafs, but hid their appearance so Link would feel comfortable. To me it doesn't seem like that makes much sense because when you meet Mido as an adult and he doesn't recognize you he looked the same kek. But it's there, whoever wants to believe it is free.
What I will debate with you is the ugly part. My beautiful Saria would be a BEAUTIFUL Kolog.
>Do you know which Zeldas I have pending? The DS ones. I feel like downloading an emulator and giving them a try.
Well go ahead, but know that, as far as I remember, they are those games that make the most of the DS. You'll have to assign a blow button, and I think it's played purely with the touch screen (but I'm speaking from hearing half-baked things a long time ago, things I don't remember well so take it with a grain of salt).
Luckily for you, emulation of those games is already perfect. It's not that they are heavy, it's that I understand there were silly things where you couldn't progress without doing certain physical actions, like closing the console at a certain point. That can already be emulated like nothing.
>>1838 →
>Looks like a Gerudo, or do all Gerudo look like Din?
Secondly, we have to remember that Din shares a name with the primordial goddess from Zelda. So it comes from there. Same with Nayru and Farore.
Din gave the Gerudo their darkness.
>It's because in that game the star is Midna
I know, and it's understandable, but at the same time it's, in part, a pity. I'm not saying it about the Zelda in that game, who we only see being solemn and such, but more about
>A question capable of starting a war between two realms: Which do you prefer? Imp Midna or True Form Midna?
Is there anyone who prefers the big form?
>Imp Midna full force, kek. Nintendo created a genre with her.
I agree. It's impossible not to love her when you talk to her and she says "awgsgehw piiii"
Kek that "piii" she said at the end with her sweet voice full of echo always liked me. And then the moan she made when you accelerated in wolf form. They knew what they were doing.
>Your impressions are making me want to play it again. But I can't, the backlog! The backlog!
Little keks. It's crazy, the backlog just grows, and grows. It seems impossible to defeat! I almost give up.
>It's recommended to bump into her
I did it, just to see her a couple of times. But it wasn't very useful to me honestly. Now I don't remember well if she dropped a potion once or if I'm imagining it, but that would be the only interesting thing. Well, and that after bumping into her a lot she started flying in a vacuum cleaner kek
>also hers, so you can steal from her, kek
I always did it, Argensimio mode of Buenos Hambres, I didn't leave her a single cent. The worst part is that I didn't need it kek, I don't know how but most of the game I went with the rupees at max.
>Surely many kids liked her attitude, they grew up, started drawing her, and that's when her fame solidified.
She has that something that sparks a cute childish crush. I felt something similar when I was little towards some mean girls in cartoons; Maple wasn't mean-mean, but she was grumpy and haughty. That attracts too, kek. I get it, I get it.
>You'll have to wait for the Oracles to get remade so that, maybe, you can get some more interaction with her.
Better make A Link To The Past more fun for me.
>Noooooo, you ruined one of my favorite races, I hate you!
Little kek
>As a counter, I'll let you know that surely Saria turned into an ugly and short Kolog.
Yeah, I had that in mind, little kek.
If you recall, the Kokiri already become those since Wind Waker, although if I remember right they were still called Kokiri there. In fact, there's a theory that says they actually always looked like that, like leafs, but hid their appearance so Link would feel comfortable. To me it doesn't seem like that makes much sense because when you meet Mido as an adult and he doesn't recognize you he looked the same kek. But it's there, whoever wants to believe it is free.
What I will debate with you is the ugly part. My beautiful Saria would be a BEAUTIFUL Kolog.
>Do you know which Zeldas I have pending? The DS ones. I feel like downloading an emulator and giving them a try.
Well go ahead, but know that, as far as I remember, they are those games that make the most of the DS. You'll have to assign a blow button, and I think it's played purely with the touch screen (but I'm speaking from hearing half-baked things a long time ago, things I don't remember well so take it with a grain of salt).
Luckily for you, emulation of those games is already perfect. It's not that they are heavy, it's that I understand there were silly things where you couldn't progress without doing certain physical actions, like closing the console at a certain point. That can already be emulated like nothing.
>>1836 →
>>1837 →
The high ceiling, with golden engravings, sheltered you from the night in its luminous womb. Or rather, in the uterus, where art was gestated. Where the pieces that watched you were born, and which were once a fragment within a head.
Bodies surrounded you. Trapped on canvases, or constructed from plastic in the eternal silence of objectification. You respected, and imitated the quiet nature of those around you, and took those steps with the care that thieves would wish to have.
Naturally, you made no noise. The wings surrounding your ankle silenced your feet. It was like a killer pillow. Even if you wore heels, you would make no sound, your feet were gagged like the screams of the suffocated.
But that didn't remove the habit. The wings were new, the habits were old. Even if you didn't have the former, you would have the certainty that your cautious steps would have been lost among the notes of that piano struck with frenzy.
But perhaps, those of the others too. You looked back. Several times. And always the mannequin returned your gaze. Without eyes. Lifeless. Soulless. Still in its place as since it was brought.
Perhaps it was once used to try on certain clothes. Other times, to simulate a pose. It was manufactured to be, and never stop being. It couldn't follow you, perhaps that was the reason for your distrust? Things going against their nature are unsettling. There was, however—according to the various sporadic glances you gave it—nothing to indicate that this object was going to defy its reality. There were more real things to worry about.
Alice was one of them. Lost in the darkness. The darkness that fell in the painting could not help but remind you of her. You caressed the oil paint, your fingers felt the almost imperceptible wrinkles of the paint as you compared Alices.
The last thing you remembered of her was that golden hair. So yellow it was noticeable in the dense night, disappearing among the trees and the mist of the cursed forest. Her goodbye was laughter and her whereabouts became uncertain. Lost in the darkness... was she who you saw on the canvas. With yours, you could only imagine.
Hopefully, she didn't end up in the jaws of that monster that watched you in the darkness. That rotten beast, falling apart like a forbidden temple where no one should be. Those eyes pierced you with a coldness that the flat face of a mannequin could never achieve. For half a second, it paralyzed you in the way only the greatest of predators can.
You tried to take refuge in the distance of a step, and the wall behind you held you back as if it wanted you to face your fear with unusual malice... but that was enough for you to see that it was just a painting.
A stupid painting.
You breathed to recover. Your chest, racing, seemed to pump sweat instead of blood. Your forehead had enough icy drops to indicate cutting on the dotted line. It took an instant that you didn't waste in dedicating. You rebelled against your emotions and put one foot in front of the other to face the painting, which was as large as the head of the real beast. The one that could have dissolved you in acid with a single bite, reducing you to a memory that would soon be forgotten.
And you rebelled against its image. Before the newly nicknamed forbidden temple, you dared to step. Your silent sole crushed the canvas. Its surface sank slightly, flexible, but the paint itself cracked under your feet like glass does, and the brushstrokes began to crackle everywhere. Pieces of paint separated and fell, revealing the white canvas underneath. Like lines of light born from the blackness surrounding the animal, and tearing it as well as if it were harming it.
Once you stepped off the plant, the ripping sound of tearing paper chased your foot as a hole the size of your shoe opened in the canvas. You saw your reinterpretation of the work, it was now as if your footsteps left a great spiderweb, as the canvas had cracked completely, not to mention there was now a large hole in the wolf's head.
The last column of that forbidden temple has collapsed.
With it, the last thing distracting you from the desperate melody also fell. You followed the trail of music like snakes that writhe, enchanted by certain notes from a certain instrument. You found the culprit, eager to kill the piano with every violent keystroke. His fingers crashed against the keys and the sound exploded from the instrument like a shriek. A translation of the pain that reflected his face, but which was otherwise mute.
Confidence has led many to the grave, but suspicion drove you. A motor of careful movements, which you used to advance with the utmost stealth that haste allows until you found yourself on the other side.
The glass under the light, otherwise transparent, reflected you minimally. Your eyes soon ignored your translucent, perplexed face to allow you to admire the product of your desire. Standing upside down on a diagonal, supported by an acrylic stand resembling a Greek iota.
You let out a bit of life in a half-breath, but your hands rushed to prevent its escape. But not the fright that accompanied it. You turned quickly, and found that the music that didn't stop behind you hadn't lied. Cosimo was still at the piano, with that desperation that proved almost contagious.
You ran the couple of meters separating you from the display case, crushing your counselor, stealthy suspicion, on the way to cling to that stand like insects that died in the yard by sticking to the lamps. Your fingers, feeling the glass to know it in an emotional blindness, felt the cold of distance in every centimeter of its surface.
It was real, being close made it more obvious. It was Napoleon, and between you and him was a solid barrier that reminded you of his existence, leaving the imprints of your sweaty hands for a brief second after each touch.
It seemed firm, and although you also saw a small lock on the right in the middle of the glass, you ignored it, for reasons you perhaps couldn't even recognize at that moment, and started shaking the display case.
https://youtu.be/8fcy2X06VH4?t=78
▶
Your hands accompanied the pianist's in a desperate rhythm. You moved your hands as you would with a vending machine that gives you nothing. But it didn't budge an inch. One would quickly understand that the display case was fixed to the floor, and was perhaps as hard as it. Your chest quickened, and you signaled your lungs like an orchestra conductor to join in the desperation. You let out gasps that you were just starting to hide in droves, your gaze abruptly left the glass, and your scan of the place was like that of a headbanging musician.
You looked here, canvas. You looked there. Wall. You looked. Mannequins. You looked. You looked. You looked. Nothing. You looked...
There. A fragile-looking vase diagonally to your right, right in front of something covered by a tablecloth. You snatched the urn from the floor, heard a small sound inside, but ignored it. You lifted it over your head, and threw the container with all your body's strength.
The impact wasn't long in coming. The characteristic crash of hollow porcelain shattering filled the room... as the urn broke into pieces, and fell without even marking the display case.
https://youtu.be/HQj78oXGrhw
▶
It happened at the same time. At the moment of impact, a discordant note. Or several at once, burst in, and broke Cosimo's song with their formless screech.
If hearing is the first thing that alerts us to danger, at that moment, that blow so... badly struck amidst perfection... followed by the silence of the culprits, could have alerted us.
And it would have been right.
At that instant. Cosimo turned towards you, and although that angry frown already showed obvious fury, you could somehow feel, in those eyes, the purest desire to harm you've ever felt.
1/2
>>1837 →
The high ceiling, with golden engravings, sheltered you from the night in its luminous womb. Or rather, in the uterus, where art was gestated. Where the pieces that watched you were born, and which were once a fragment within a head.
Bodies surrounded you. Trapped on canvases, or constructed from plastic in the eternal silence of objectification. You respected, and imitated the quiet nature of those around you, and took those steps with the care that thieves would wish to have.
Naturally, you made no noise. The wings surrounding your ankle silenced your feet. It was like a killer pillow. Even if you wore heels, you would make no sound, your feet were gagged like the screams of the suffocated.
But that didn't remove the habit. The wings were new, the habits were old. Even if you didn't have the former, you would have the certainty that your cautious steps would have been lost among the notes of that piano struck with frenzy.
But perhaps, those of the others too. You looked back. Several times. And always the mannequin returned your gaze. Without eyes. Lifeless. Soulless. Still in its place as since it was brought.
Perhaps it was once used to try on certain clothes. Other times, to simulate a pose. It was manufactured to be, and never stop being. It couldn't follow you, perhaps that was the reason for your distrust? Things going against their nature are unsettling. There was, however—according to the various sporadic glances you gave it—nothing to indicate that this object was going to defy its reality. There were more real things to worry about.
Alice was one of them. Lost in the darkness. The darkness that fell in the painting could not help but remind you of her. You caressed the oil paint, your fingers felt the almost imperceptible wrinkles of the paint as you compared Alices.
The last thing you remembered of her was that golden hair. So yellow it was noticeable in the dense night, disappearing among the trees and the mist of the cursed forest. Her goodbye was laughter and her whereabouts became uncertain. Lost in the darkness... was she who you saw on the canvas. With yours, you could only imagine.
Hopefully, she didn't end up in the jaws of that monster that watched you in the darkness. That rotten beast, falling apart like a forbidden temple where no one should be. Those eyes pierced you with a coldness that the flat face of a mannequin could never achieve. For half a second, it paralyzed you in the way only the greatest of predators can.
You tried to take refuge in the distance of a step, and the wall behind you held you back as if it wanted you to face your fear with unusual malice... but that was enough for you to see that it was just a painting.
A stupid painting.
You breathed to recover. Your chest, racing, seemed to pump sweat instead of blood. Your forehead had enough icy drops to indicate cutting on the dotted line. It took an instant that you didn't waste in dedicating. You rebelled against your emotions and put one foot in front of the other to face the painting, which was as large as the head of the real beast. The one that could have dissolved you in acid with a single bite, reducing you to a memory that would soon be forgotten.
And you rebelled against its image. Before the newly nicknamed forbidden temple, you dared to step. Your silent sole crushed the canvas. Its surface sank slightly, flexible, but the paint itself cracked under your feet like glass does, and the brushstrokes began to crackle everywhere. Pieces of paint separated and fell, revealing the white canvas underneath. Like lines of light born from the blackness surrounding the animal, and tearing it as well as if it were harming it.
Once you stepped off the plant, the ripping sound of tearing paper chased your foot as a hole the size of your shoe opened in the canvas. You saw your reinterpretation of the work, it was now as if your footsteps left a great spiderweb, as the canvas had cracked completely, not to mention there was now a large hole in the wolf's head.
The last column of that forbidden temple has collapsed.
With it, the last thing distracting you from the desperate melody also fell. You followed the trail of music like snakes that writhe, enchanted by certain notes from a certain instrument. You found the culprit, eager to kill the piano with every violent keystroke. His fingers crashed against the keys and the sound exploded from the instrument like a shriek. A translation of the pain that reflected his face, but which was otherwise mute.
Confidence has led many to the grave, but suspicion drove you. A motor of careful movements, which you used to advance with the utmost stealth that haste allows until you found yourself on the other side.
The glass under the light, otherwise transparent, reflected you minimally. Your eyes soon ignored your translucent, perplexed face to allow you to admire the product of your desire. Standing upside down on a diagonal, supported by an acrylic stand resembling a Greek iota.
You let out a bit of life in a half-breath, but your hands rushed to prevent its escape. But not the fright that accompanied it. You turned quickly, and found that the music that didn't stop behind you hadn't lied. Cosimo was still at the piano, with that desperation that proved almost contagious.
You ran the couple of meters separating you from the display case, crushing your counselor, stealthy suspicion, on the way to cling to that stand like insects that died in the yard by sticking to the lamps. Your fingers, feeling the glass to know it in an emotional blindness, felt the cold of distance in every centimeter of its surface.
It was real, being close made it more obvious. It was Napoleon, and between you and him was a solid barrier that reminded you of his existence, leaving the imprints of your sweaty hands for a brief second after each touch.
It seemed firm, and although you also saw a small lock on the right in the middle of the glass, you ignored it, for reasons you perhaps couldn't even recognize at that moment, and started shaking the display case.
https://youtu.be/8fcy2X06VH4?t=78
▶Your hands accompanied the pianist's in a desperate rhythm. You moved your hands as you would with a vending machine that gives you nothing. But it didn't budge an inch. One would quickly understand that the display case was fixed to the floor, and was perhaps as hard as it. Your chest quickened, and you signaled your lungs like an orchestra conductor to join in the desperation. You let out gasps that you were just starting to hide in droves, your gaze abruptly left the glass, and your scan of the place was like that of a headbanging musician.
You looked here, canvas. You looked there. Wall. You looked. Mannequins. You looked. You looked. You looked. Nothing. You looked...
There. A fragile-looking vase diagonally to your right, right in front of something covered by a tablecloth. You snatched the urn from the floor, heard a small sound inside, but ignored it. You lifted it over your head, and threw the container with all your body's strength.
The impact wasn't long in coming. The characteristic crash of hollow porcelain shattering filled the room... as the urn broke into pieces, and fell without even marking the display case.
https://youtu.be/HQj78oXGrhw
▶It happened at the same time. At the moment of impact, a discordant note. Or several at once, burst in, and broke Cosimo's song with their formless screech.
If hearing is the first thing that alerts us to danger, at that moment, that blow so... badly struck amidst perfection... followed by the silence of the culprits, could have alerted us.
And it would have been right.
At that instant. Cosimo turned towards you, and although that angry frown already showed obvious fury, you could somehow feel, in those eyes, the purest desire to harm you've ever felt.
1/2
>>1837 →
...and at the next moment it changed.
The eyes in which you were trapped expanded, and your silhouette in the irises was consumed by the black pit of the widened pupils, which were now touching the white of the sclera, revealed up to the limit to which only the greatest surprise can lead us.
He held that gaze for the miserable second that the silence lasted. After that, his eyebrows descended to the level of the calm already shared with the rest of his face. The corners of his lips curved upward in a nearly imperceptible way. A smile as fine as the legs of a spider, with which he deigned to stand up.
>Cosimo
"Ahh..." -he adjusted his tie, then let his hands drop to his sides, taking a small moment of silence more to look at you better with slight satisfaction transmitted in his drooping eyelids and that weak grace in his lips-
He extended his hands in front of his abdomen, with his fingers open and pointing towards you, following his habits of a good presenter.
"Welcome... princess."
The left hand went up to cover his heart, the other was extended to the side.
"My name is Cosimo..."
He inclined the upper body without breaking eye contact, and confirmed you in his reverence:
"I am at your service."
Cosimo straightened up and took a few steps closer. The soles of his shoes made an echo that occasionally replaced the total silence that filled the room.
"I notice something..."
His eyes dropped for an instant, leaving the sensation of the looks on your chest, which inflated and retracted to the rhythm of your gasps. Then he regained eye contact.
"...nervous."
He stopped his walk once the distance was optimal for conversation. And although he didn't seek to intimidate, he made you feel small with his one meter eighty and good posture. But with the relaxation well-placed in that look of fullness in times of calm, he bowed again. He extended his hand, giving you the bridge from which he would share his parsimony.
"Could you suggest sitting down and resting a bit before telling me what I can do for you?"
He assumed something had brought you to his space. And a bit further back there was a good place to sit. Perhaps you needed it.
Meanwhile, at your feet, something shone among the tiny fragments of destroyed urn.
Very small, none are tier swords btw. Get used to it because they're just the typical item container of a game kek
2/2
...and at the next moment it changed.
The eyes in which you were trapped expanded, and your silhouette in the irises was consumed by the black pit of the widened pupils, which were now touching the white of the sclera, revealed up to the limit to which only the greatest surprise can lead us.
He held that gaze for the miserable second that the silence lasted. After that, his eyebrows descended to the level of the calm already shared with the rest of his face. The corners of his lips curved upward in a nearly imperceptible way. A smile as fine as the legs of a spider, with which he deigned to stand up.
>Cosimo
"Ahh..." -he adjusted his tie, then let his hands drop to his sides, taking a small moment of silence more to look at you better with slight satisfaction transmitted in his drooping eyelids and that weak grace in his lips-
He extended his hands in front of his abdomen, with his fingers open and pointing towards you, following his habits of a good presenter.
"Welcome... princess."
The left hand went up to cover his heart, the other was extended to the side.
"My name is Cosimo..."
He inclined the upper body without breaking eye contact, and confirmed you in his reverence:
"I am at your service."
Cosimo straightened up and took a few steps closer. The soles of his shoes made an echo that occasionally replaced the total silence that filled the room.
"I notice something..."
His eyes dropped for an instant, leaving the sensation of the looks on your chest, which inflated and retracted to the rhythm of your gasps. Then he regained eye contact.
"...nervous."
He stopped his walk once the distance was optimal for conversation. And although he didn't seek to intimidate, he made you feel small with his one meter eighty and good posture. But with the relaxation well-placed in that look of fullness in times of calm, he bowed again. He extended his hand, giving you the bridge from which he would share his parsimony.
"Could you suggest sitting down and resting a bit before telling me what I can do for you?"
He assumed something had brought you to his space. And a bit further back there was a good place to sit. Perhaps you needed it.
Meanwhile, at your feet, something shone among the tiny fragments of destroyed urn.
Very small, none are tier swords btw. Get used to it because they're just the typical item container of a game kek
2/2
Draulilfa used to be a great and prosperous continent where three dominant races coexisted, the Elves, the Dwarves, the Dragonkin and the Na'k. For centuries these races lived in peace, sharing the resources that the land had to offer. But over time, the seed of ambition began to grow slowly among the Na'k. Soon these began their campaign of expansion across the continent, marking the beginning of the Rupture Wars. For centuries the war between the four civilizations continued without any of the factions ever defeating the other. Until finally, a catastrophic event brought an end to the conflict, extinguishing a large number of species in the process and splitting the great continent into three, Belia, Valia and Winla.
The Na'k became extinct, the Dragonkin escaped to some unknown place, the Elves and Dwarves remained in the micro continents, scattered in populations that barely reached the hundreds. These had to adapt to the altered environments caused by the magic used during the war. They also witnessed how new conscious races evolved thanks to the magic-laden environments, beginning to interact with these in order to form bonds and to monitor them to prevent an event like that of the Na'k from happening again. So the centuries passed and all the races allied, living in harmony. In every village, city or settlement, in every place you can see members of any race living peacefully together. This has brought both good and bad things. Soon various criminal groups, cults and others began to form. Also, various creatures created as tools and weapons for the war began to evolve, from slimes, chimeras, giant insects and a long list of other things.
At this moment various stories will begin, maybe you have something to do with that story. Maybe you are just a passerby in this, or you take a central role. All you know is that these lands have a lot to offer and you maybe have what it takes to get it.
Name:
Race:
Gender:
Age: 12 minimum 25 maximum
Class: Below I will make a list of the available classes
Background: That to which you were dedicated before becoming an adventurer or that you still dedicate yourself to. Below I will leave a list of the available backgrounds and the bonuses they provide.
Initial Equipment: A weapon of your choice, if it is a magical weapon explain in the biography why you possess it, armor of your choice, a bag of objects with 3 healing potions and provisions for a journey, a personal talisman, 50 gold coins.
Biography: Tell us about yourself.
Statistics:
Constitution: Represents your endurance.
Strength: Represents your physical power.
Dexterity: Represents your agility and flexibility.
Intelligence: Represents your memory and ability to reason.
Wisdom: Represents your perceptiveness and intuition.
Charisma: Represents how strong and attractive your personality is.
All characters start with 5 base points in all statistics and 10 points to distribute. The classes provide a major bonus and two minor bonuses to certain stats, these will be along with the class.
Finally they have to choose an anthology that they will protagonize within the world:
1: Your first job was to escort a young noble from the city of Ithassu to the small village of Etesh, will you limit yourself to doing your job? Or will you end up forming a bond?
2: By the twists of fate you ended up as a member of a band of criminals dedicated to highway robberies. Despite it being a relatively simple and enjoyable life, you and the other members feel they can become something more.
3: A noble tasked with recovering a valuable and dangerous relic that your family was entrusted with protecting for centuries. You have to be willing to do whatever it takes to get that object back into your hands.
The Na'k became extinct, the Dragonkin escaped to some unknown place, the Elves and Dwarves remained in the micro continents, scattered in populations that barely reached the hundreds. These had to adapt to the altered environments caused by the magic used during the war. They also witnessed how new conscious races evolved thanks to the magic-laden environments, beginning to interact with these in order to form bonds and to monitor them to prevent an event like that of the Na'k from happening again. So the centuries passed and all the races allied, living in harmony. In every village, city or settlement, in every place you can see members of any race living peacefully together. This has brought both good and bad things. Soon various criminal groups, cults and others began to form. Also, various creatures created as tools and weapons for the war began to evolve, from slimes, chimeras, giant insects and a long list of other things.
At this moment various stories will begin, maybe you have something to do with that story. Maybe you are just a passerby in this, or you take a central role. All you know is that these lands have a lot to offer and you maybe have what it takes to get it.
Name:
Race:
Gender:
Age: 12 minimum 25 maximum
Class: Below I will make a list of the available classes
Background: That to which you were dedicated before becoming an adventurer or that you still dedicate yourself to. Below I will leave a list of the available backgrounds and the bonuses they provide.
Initial Equipment: A weapon of your choice, if it is a magical weapon explain in the biography why you possess it, armor of your choice, a bag of objects with 3 healing potions and provisions for a journey, a personal talisman, 50 gold coins.
Biography: Tell us about yourself.
Statistics:
Constitution: Represents your endurance.
Strength: Represents your physical power.
Dexterity: Represents your agility and flexibility.
Intelligence: Represents your memory and ability to reason.
Wisdom: Represents your perceptiveness and intuition.
Charisma: Represents how strong and attractive your personality is.
All characters start with 5 base points in all statistics and 10 points to distribute. The classes provide a major bonus and two minor bonuses to certain stats, these will be along with the class.
Finally they have to choose an anthology that they will protagonize within the world:
1: Your first job was to escort a young noble from the city of Ithassu to the small village of Etesh, will you limit yourself to doing your job? Or will you end up forming a bond?
2: By the twists of fate you ended up as a member of a band of criminals dedicated to highway robberies. Despite it being a relatively simple and enjoyable life, you and the other members feel they can become something more.
3: A noble tasked with recovering a valuable and dangerous relic that your family was entrusted with protecting for centuries. You have to be willing to do whatever it takes to get that object back into your hands.
>>4157 →
>While searching for firewood alongside Kilt, you also kept an eye out for plants, berries, anything that could be of use in the near future, managing to gather a quite fruitful harvest.
>You soon strike up a conversation with Kilt, in which she tells you how she got her muscles. As soon as you learned she knew blacksmithing, you asked Kilt to teach you the trade.
Kilt: It's not that I'm very skilled at this, Victoria. For me, blacksmithing basically boils down to heating metal and shaping it with blows. However, I kept my father's notes. If you'd like, I can lend them to you and also teach you how to use the tools, if we ever get access to some.
>With Kilt's response about a possible future blacksmithing tutelage being positive, you proceed to inspect the woman's muscles, admiring her body toned by work, a physical power that many mages secretly admire and envy.
>Soon Kilt would end the interaction, leaving a flirty proposal hanging in the air as she returned to work. Both of you then got down to business, looking for firewood.
>Kilt used her axe to break fallen logs, which she then put in a bag, accumulating a good amount of firewood. For your part, you remained focused on collecting easy-to-carry branches, as well as gathering anything that could be used as an ingredient in the future.
Kilt: This is enough. Let's head back and hope that Vak and Mao have already started preparing dinner.
>With that said, Kilt and you head back to the camp, once again alert to any strange sounds and trying to avoid contact with the local fauna. After all, a snake bite was still dangerous.
>Upon arriving at the camp, the first thing you noticed was Vak's naked body standing in front of the campfire. Several skewers were cooking around it. Mao was preparing skewers in front of the campfire while chatting with Vak.
Vak: Look who's finally back. We were already thinking of going to look for you.
>The goblin had a cheerful tone in her voice, you could tell she was much more relaxed, her small green body was completely exposed, her nipples were quite pronounced with large areolas, there was a lot of hair in her crotch, the goblin didn't show the slightest bit of shame.
Kilt: Have some decency, dwarf, and put something on! What kind of impression are you going to give Victoria?.
>Kilt seemed somewhat annoyed by Vak's carefree attitude, who didn't pay much attention to her comrade's words, sitting down in front of the fire while taking a skewer.
Mao: Vak has always been like this, Kilt, don't expect her to start acting differently just because Victoria is with us.
>Mao then took two skewers from the campfire and stood up, approaching you with a calm smile on her face.
Mao: We still have a long way to go, so for now let's focus on resting.
>Mao then handed you the skewers and returned to the fire, Kilt and you approached, leaving the firewood a safe distance from the campfire.
>You noticed Kilt taking off her leather armor with a sigh, Mao, on the other hand, wasn't wearing the hood that covered her face, revealing shiny brown hair and tanned skin.
Kilt: Pass me some malt, Mao, I feel like drinking something.
>The zumin nodded before tossing a canteen to the dwarf, which she caught with ease and proceeded to take a deep drink from.
Kilt: Delicious! Alright, I'm going to sleep a bit, remember, someone always has to be awake watching the fire.
>Kilt then quickly ate her skewer and took another swig from the malt canteen before tossing it to you and proceeding to lie down on one of the blankets spread on the sand.
>Vak then gestured for you to come closer, a smile on her face as she took a bite of one of the skewers.
Vak: Come closer Victoria, let's drink some of that malt and enjoy the food, Mao, give me some bread please.
>Mao then took a piece of bread from her bag and approached Vak to hand it to her, then she approached you, handing you a piece as well.
>While searching for firewood alongside Kilt, you also kept an eye out for plants, berries, anything that could be of use in the near future, managing to gather a quite fruitful harvest.
>You soon strike up a conversation with Kilt, in which she tells you how she got her muscles. As soon as you learned she knew blacksmithing, you asked Kilt to teach you the trade.
Kilt: It's not that I'm very skilled at this, Victoria. For me, blacksmithing basically boils down to heating metal and shaping it with blows. However, I kept my father's notes. If you'd like, I can lend them to you and also teach you how to use the tools, if we ever get access to some.
>With Kilt's response about a possible future blacksmithing tutelage being positive, you proceed to inspect the woman's muscles, admiring her body toned by work, a physical power that many mages secretly admire and envy.
>Soon Kilt would end the interaction, leaving a flirty proposal hanging in the air as she returned to work. Both of you then got down to business, looking for firewood.
>Kilt used her axe to break fallen logs, which she then put in a bag, accumulating a good amount of firewood. For your part, you remained focused on collecting easy-to-carry branches, as well as gathering anything that could be used as an ingredient in the future.
Kilt: This is enough. Let's head back and hope that Vak and Mao have already started preparing dinner.
>With that said, Kilt and you head back to the camp, once again alert to any strange sounds and trying to avoid contact with the local fauna. After all, a snake bite was still dangerous.
>Upon arriving at the camp, the first thing you noticed was Vak's naked body standing in front of the campfire. Several skewers were cooking around it. Mao was preparing skewers in front of the campfire while chatting with Vak.
Vak: Look who's finally back. We were already thinking of going to look for you.
>The goblin had a cheerful tone in her voice, you could tell she was much more relaxed, her small green body was completely exposed, her nipples were quite pronounced with large areolas, there was a lot of hair in her crotch, the goblin didn't show the slightest bit of shame.
Kilt: Have some decency, dwarf, and put something on! What kind of impression are you going to give Victoria?.
>Kilt seemed somewhat annoyed by Vak's carefree attitude, who didn't pay much attention to her comrade's words, sitting down in front of the fire while taking a skewer.
Mao: Vak has always been like this, Kilt, don't expect her to start acting differently just because Victoria is with us.
>Mao then took two skewers from the campfire and stood up, approaching you with a calm smile on her face.
Mao: We still have a long way to go, so for now let's focus on resting.
>Mao then handed you the skewers and returned to the fire, Kilt and you approached, leaving the firewood a safe distance from the campfire.
>You noticed Kilt taking off her leather armor with a sigh, Mao, on the other hand, wasn't wearing the hood that covered her face, revealing shiny brown hair and tanned skin.
Kilt: Pass me some malt, Mao, I feel like drinking something.
>The zumin nodded before tossing a canteen to the dwarf, which she caught with ease and proceeded to take a deep drink from.
Kilt: Delicious! Alright, I'm going to sleep a bit, remember, someone always has to be awake watching the fire.
>Kilt then quickly ate her skewer and took another swig from the malt canteen before tossing it to you and proceeding to lie down on one of the blankets spread on the sand.
>Vak then gestured for you to come closer, a smile on her face as she took a bite of one of the skewers.
Vak: Come closer Victoria, let's drink some of that malt and enjoy the food, Mao, give me some bread please.
>Mao then took a piece of bread from her bag and approached Vak to hand it to her, then she approached you, handing you a piece as well.
>>4065 →
Are there any available spots?
Are there any available spots?
Here is posted everything related to the Hexcraft Heptagram roleplay meta
Infovideos:
https://youtube.com/shorts/cXD0241_sT8
▶https://youtube.com/shorts/TUl6YM1TLi8
▶https://youtube.com/shorts/UQi0mMpSZNI
▶
Memevideos
https://youtube.com/shorts/56zP-AvknKQ
▶
Official roleplay page:
https://pokipokibagre.github.io/Hexcraft-Heptagram/
Many slots!
Infovideos:
https://youtube.com/shorts/cXD0241_sT8
▶https://youtube.com/shorts/TUl6YM1TLi8▶https://youtube.com/shorts/UQi0mMpSZNI▶Memevideos
https://youtube.com/shorts/56zP-AvknKQ
▶Official roleplay page:
https://pokipokibagre.github.io/Hexcraft-Heptagram/
Many slots!
Is it still useful to report?
>>6938 →
For now there is no role to back the reports. But when I find an idea and restore the system, the Hex will remain the main currency. I felt like a crypto seller saying this
What do you think of a BNH with a skill tree?
I've wanted to do a time travel roleplay with a deep plot for a long time, I had it planned for when my main roleplay ended. But I've had ideas about a more "commercial" one, with powers and an invisible connection to tarot. Should I develop it?
pic to get attention
For now there is no role to back the reports. But when I find an idea and restore the system, the Hex will remain the main currency. I felt like a crypto seller saying this
What do you think of a BNH with a skill tree?
I've wanted to do a time travel roleplay with a deep plot for a long time, I had it planned for when my main roleplay ended. But I've had ideas about a more "commercial" one, with powers and an invisible connection to tarot. Should I develop it?
pic to get attention
>>6939 →
>What do you think of a BNH with a skill tree?
Do you know Dispatch? The game's gameplay seems very easy to adapt to a Hexcraft-style role. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5cZNTai1NR8
▶
You would have to create missions where depending on how high your stats are, you have more or less chances of completing them. For example, a mission that requires +8 strength and another that asks for +8 resistance. If you don't reach those points, you can take it with another player and combine your stats, that way you promote doing missions in groups. You could also include a mechanic where if you double the stats the mission requires, you gain more experience.
Speaking of experience, instead of Hexcraft's big map, I'd say it would be better to make a simple one like pic's. You choose your base power on your character sheet and as you buy things in the skill tree, you can either increase your stats or gain greater mastery in your powers to achieve more things. For example, the power of the pickaxe is pyromancy, when you reach the third branch you gain the ability to buy the power to propel yourself with your fire to fly, while in the fourth branch you have the ability to cause large explosions or absorb heat from a target.
Another thing about the skill tree would be that once you decide to go down a branch, you can't go back unless you spend the necessary points to do so. For example, I buy +2 strength and flight, if I want to go back and buy the +2 resistance below, I would have to spend that amount again to get back to that point on the map. That way you avoid a player accumulating exp too quickly.
>What do you think of a BNH with a skill tree?
Do you know Dispatch? The game's gameplay seems very easy to adapt to a Hexcraft-style role. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5cZNTai1NR8
▶You would have to create missions where depending on how high your stats are, you have more or less chances of completing them. For example, a mission that requires +8 strength and another that asks for +8 resistance. If you don't reach those points, you can take it with another player and combine your stats, that way you promote doing missions in groups. You could also include a mechanic where if you double the stats the mission requires, you gain more experience.
Speaking of experience, instead of Hexcraft's big map, I'd say it would be better to make a simple one like pic's. You choose your base power on your character sheet and as you buy things in the skill tree, you can either increase your stats or gain greater mastery in your powers to achieve more things. For example, the power of the pickaxe is pyromancy, when you reach the third branch you gain the ability to buy the power to propel yourself with your fire to fly, while in the fourth branch you have the ability to cause large explosions or absorb heat from a target.
Another thing about the skill tree would be that once you decide to go down a branch, you can't go back unless you spend the necessary points to do so. For example, I buy +2 strength and flight, if I want to go back and buy the +2 resistance below, I would have to spend that amount again to get back to that point on the map. That way you avoid a player accumulating exp too quickly.
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