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Vilhardt last won the day on November 29 2019

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  1. "Agreed. Our path to the top will be secured by attrition, with no doubt in my mind. With all three signatures in place, we can begin the hiring process, which should help to maintain productivity in my absence." With Ilyana's signature in place, Elizabeth removed her right eye. The light screen broke into pixels, taking the agreement with it, and binding the Ventrix sorcery within the oculus. Elizabeth extended the orb as a gift, metaphorically handing Sevryn a set of spare keys to her internal database. Patton had planned to withhold this part of the deal from Ilyana at first, but a personal interest altered her decision. "I admire your support in my educational ideals. With this goal of the future in mind, and that of your own in the present, I offer you a gift. The knowledge at my disposal, at your fingertips." This was a tool which could prove very useful within the uncertain future. Ways in which arcane information could be properly housed, and sourced were developing in modern day. Establishing privatized channels of this information however, seemed to be toward the higher end of such research. By utilizing the bound contract, Liz opened another channel of information that converged with her own; inside the orb. "Firstly, you sign onto the orb. Simply touch the the oculus and draw a circle. Once the glyph lights up, you spell your name, and the device will conjure the channel. From here, you can use a light screen to access my personal ledgers, research, projects, and the like. We can also achieve secure audible interaction, should you speak directly toward the orb and state so. You can also monitor company statistics and even security footage, as well as gain access to authorized facilities." Elizabeth waited patiently for Sevryn to contemplate whether or not to accept the gift. There was no ill will attached, no complex catchings or tangled works. The oculus seemed mundane, just a piece of technology which used magic to bind information between people; as so it was. Perhaps this was a sign of things to come, a literal iteration of Elizabeth's vision for the people, united by their insight. Elizabeth prepared to wrap things up, pressed by other deadlines which were now flattened by the once in a lifetime opportunity that Sevryn had presented. "With the terms of contract, these walls now move as your own. You may come and go as you please. If you wouldn't mind Ilyana, I have research to begin. If something comes up that you think I should see, do let me know. In the meantime, I'll look into your... Situation." E.P put on a business smile and offered a friendly handshake. "It's been a pleasure Ilyana Sevryn. I look forward to our next meeting."
  2. It hadn't been but maybe a few nights before since the outlaw Jack Cheshire had received the calling. The Blue Hill Gang was known for being rowdy, and even moreso, careless; some would say disposable, for the right price. Jackie boy was known for his lack of moral concerns, and his 'No witness left alive' policies, regarded as a general goon with an outstanding record for ruthless efficiency. He was also known as a delusional, one who wasn't exactly right in the head, and there were rumors around and again about some horrific tragedy in his past that had driven him mad. Perhaps this was the reason he had taken up the job from one 'M'yr Boldbarrow', but in retrospect, it wouldn't matter. Jackie was a smoking gun, who had drawn on the wrong stranger; shot down at the peak of dawn the day before. After searching Jack's corpse, the stranger found the request, which hadn't seemed addressed to Jackie, nor anyone particular. The details were vague, and the stranger assumed that Cheshire had been entering some sort of free contract for a small time crime ordeal, which was nothing unusual around the area. The address was at the bottom, and after stealing the dead man's belongings, the two-bit bum from Lunaris decided to take up the job in the outlaws stead. His pants were the color of thick mud by the time he had reached Arcturon, soaked from trudging through the marshland. The imposter rapped on the listed door, greeted by a large man which was apparently integrated with some kind of slug. The swamp folk never failed to surprise him, truly. The man from other worlds was familiar with the dialect of slug people from old, distant realms, and pointed at the request for help as he tried to communicate. "Achuta. Ni chuba ni?" He asked, raising his left brow in curiosity. There was no immediate response, the brute staring at the stranger like he was dumb, or perhaps just staring around like a slug does. Either way, it must have been the wrong spoken tongue. Still, the guard moved aside, granting access to the meeting. The lone stranger proceeded with caution, moving slowly toward the other employees, his right hand lingering on the long iron which was holstered across his left breast; beneath his heavy wino's coat. This act was subtle, non-aggressive, a courteous warning that he was armed. The spurs of his dogs led him toward a window where he perched himself upright, and made sure the air was clear about at least one thing. "First person to get near me with something like that.." He nodded, his hat tipping slightly toward the strange guards, in reference to whatever hugged their faces. "Is gonna catch a bad one." The stranger warned, only this once. He was flashy, as a renowned outlaw might be, spilling his gun fluidly into a single backspin and catching it with the barrel pointed upward. The pistolero fitted his hat with the weapon, pushing the brim, before reversing motion and cocking the large revolver's lever with a strong arm, and holstering. The gentleman hadn't touched the single action's hammer yet, a business courtesy of sorts; but hot damn did he seem ready. The dead man's poncho slid over his torso, concealing his hands. There were other things that the would be Jack couldn't conceal. The others had likely realized by this point that he appeared wounded. It was hard to miss in honesty, with bandages stretching across his left side, and a festered grin along the gum, with cracked teeth exposed. Open flesh, rotting, likely the result of an unkept burn. A certain stench lingered from the man, unpleasantly, to say the least. There was an old saying, that "Misery loves company" and the phrase in mind seemed to stick out as Boldbarrow entered the room. Joshua saw something in the man, akin to himself; or perhaps through him, into a sinister self reflection. It poured unnaturally from him, exuding a demoralizing reality. Loneliness, self disgust, the air of defeat at the hands of an inevitable outcome; despair. The stranger grew pale, distant, and still for a moment, until M'yr got his attention. "Could you move away from the window?" The stranger moved to the side nonchalantly as the waves were held at bay, his poncho dangling abroad. He listened to M'yr finish, and stood crossed beside the window, still unsure what this was all about. He listened to two others introduce themselves, heeding their words respectively before introducing himself. The gunslinger removed his bent prairie hat, holding it in front of his heart as he spoke, his grim visage exposed. Clumps of charred scalp had blistered the left side of his head, growing chopped thickets of white beneath his hat where his hairline had been. His ear appeared to have melted off at some point, fusing toward a neck wound that crept along the jaw. It was perplexing how he could speak so clearly, as if his vocals had mended back together in some inhuman way. "Name's Jack. Jackie Cheshire. Might know me better as 'The smiling kid.'" They probably wouldn't know him by either name, unless they knew enough about the local black hands. "Versed sorcerer, and one of the fastest guns in the Blue Hills. You could say that I'm a bonafide Jack of all trades." Cheshire continued, placing his hat back onto his head. "I'll get you by locks, traps, and anyone unlucky enough to end up down my sights or in my hands. Other'n that, what you see is what you get." The man known as Jackie offered, lifting a cigarette from beneath his poncho. He pulled it to the well side of his mouth, and lifted his left hand to its tip; which was coated in something. A dirty dressing bound the arm, spiraling along each finger beneath banded leather which held in place metal tips that lined the nail, engraved with glyphs. Shalana, or any others accustomed with the dark arts might recognize this as an old frontier trick for alchemists; in which they passed the metal tips along another to create reactions. Doing so did just that, allowing him to light the cigarette and take a few drags after snapping his fingers together. The acclaimed outlaw leaned back against the wall, letting someone else cut into the conversation as he blew smoke rudely.
  3. In short, my character is a merc from Lunaris who lives a double life, frequenting as a black hand under various aliases to withhold his identity. He's not a lawman, more of a vigilante from the early days of the empire (before law had become routinely prevalent). He would operate independently of the law, and rather double cross the cult at his own disclosure. It is likely that the giant and my merc might know of each other, but not defined. Would it be alright if he just kind of piled in with everyone else?
  4. Vilhardt

    Joshua Rymer

    Monikers: Official name: Joshua Rymer Titles: A Hero of Lunaris - Obtained by fighting alongside Titus Demetrius and the other Heroes of Lunaris during the Worldrift Incident of WTA 595 against an enormous, otherworldly Hydra. Extended names: James Haywood, Joey Cheshire, Jonathan Hemmit, among other fake names. Frequents the Surname Grandin. Physicality: Descendance: Grandian/Other dimensional Relatives: Elizabeth Patton (sister by adoption) Physiology: Humanoid, with unusual muscular attributes that seem to utilize arcane energy-efficient reactions to the world around it. Lesser physical build than commonplace in the world, being weaker physically, but boasting an accelerated conceptual application of the mind, and spirit. Grandian humans are thought to possess the ability to carry out layered complexities of thought processes and arcane calculations simultaneously, preternaturally. Although outright strength is not within Grandian nature, longevity is built into their cellular structure through a process theorized to be an adaptation to their home world, in which they focus their mental process, and spiritual foundation toward the body in an elongated state of regeneration. Determined Age: Late twenties Body type: Lanky build, with broad shoulders and long, muscular arms. Height: 6'1 ish Weight: Lean 180 - 230 Pounds Facial structure: Chiseled Ovular (Pointing, and squaring toward the chin) Hairline: Full, grown comfortably above the brow and swept backward, tucking in tufts behind the upper ears, and aligning thinly along the sideburns until reaching the cheekbones. His white hair grows into close, choppy layers in the back which jut upward in bristles, and grow outward above the neck, aligning the brow line; twisting inward on themselves like the horns of a ram. Brow line: Rotund, naturally stern, with brittle white eyebrows that generally remain linear. Eye line: Deep socketed, running squarely below the brow, and inward from the cheekbones. Thick eyelids. His pale eyes, while rather large, are often held into a callous stare. Nose: Concave along the brow, curving outward slowly until the tip, which rounds at the nostril in a slight upward tilt. Cheeks: High, thin bones which accentuate the eyes from below, and stretch tightly with the masculine jawline. Lips: Pale, with a thin upper lip and a full lower lip. Jawline: Distinguished, running deep and growing thicker near the neck. Reference picture: Demeanor: Attitude: Generally laid back and carefree, even though he always seems to be troubled by something. He's been known to be cocky, and hard headed. In tense situations he puts his guard up immediately, growing stern and becoming a man of focus. He's riled up pretty easily, being coaxed on by others, and has been known to haphazardly put his life in danger to protect people; even complete strangers. While under employment, he's generally shady, untrusting, alert, and usually straightforward with people; whether there be a conflict of interest or not. Even while engaged in personal contract, he isn't afraid to double cross his employer if things get out of line, which is one of the many reasons he has to conceal his true identity. Still, his eagerness to step up to the plate and tackle most situations with a hands on, nothing held back approach, have earned him certain a reputation as a black hand. Likes: Cigarettes, His gun, Animals, His Grandian coat and boots. He enjoys spellcraft, and often longs to learn new crafts, or pit his own against another's. He is also very fond of magitech machining, and construct creation; and a huge fan of robotics. Dislikes: Cowardice, Injustice, empty threats and promises, threats to public safety. Generally annoying stuff. Joshua grows irate easily, but usually only holds severe distaste against things that are radically wicked. Persona: Role: Martial Sorcerer/Gunner Applied Trades: Machining, Inscription (Including tome creation, and enchanting), Alchemy, Construct conjuration, Archaic restoration (Awakening forgotten, or dormant energies), Archaic translation (Understanding foreign text, speaking universal language), Sigil warding and embellishment (Forming complex layers of spiritual projection, aligning energy channels), Elemental manipulation (Metallurgy, current conductivity, structure construction, dynamics.) Withholds knowledge of the Dark arts, and unnatural. Profession: Hired Hand History: Joshua Rymer was born from the remnants of the dying world Grandis, consumed by a place in which reality and eternity are no longer confluent; and conscious energies flow freely without the constraints of physicality or purpose. Within this consciousness grew remorse, self disgust, pity, rage, confusion, and animosity. Then followed hopeless realization, and a desire to serve. Through a paradoxical connection, this place, this desire for purpose, entwined with another world during the events of the Worldrift Incident of WTA 595 and spilled forth the remnants of Grandis, a great mage who fought impossible odds, and a chunk of space rock that had carried him through realms. In a state of disarray, he felt unreasonably compelled to assist the Mork'Outh, sacrificing a part of his newfound physicality to conjure a grand storm and the mighty "Black bolt" and pass into legend alongside the other strangers there, and their combined wills on that day. His sorcery assisted in the costly defense of Lunaris, and after falling unconscious his life was saved by Titus Demetrius, and Chieftain Tavias. The Mork'Outh infused him with Wild light magic, nursing him back to health, and promised him and the other Heroes anything the land offered, and as time passed Joshua had never asked them for a thing. He had received life from some source, given a home among the Mork'Outh, becoming a part of their world; and it was he who was in debt to the people, a conscious with a purpose. It was around the time that the mountains spilled from the sky that he had departed Taen, finding work among roughnecks in the Fracturing Continent. He sought to expand his craft, learning of the ways of the conflicted nation during an increase in mercantile utilization throughout the land. He developed in trade, thriving on the road in between jobs and becoming flexible, more aware of the predominant forces around that began arising within the turn of the approaching century. The mercenary learned the five crafts of engineering, sigil formation, cantrip sorcery, spiritual manipulation, and alchemy; and honed them through the use of nine forces. The mad mage hasn't been seen around his homeland, but maybe, a handful of times within passing years. The old Mork'Outh, the survivors, and some successful refugees still tell tall tales, claiming that he could be anywhere among them these days, sacrificing limb for land; or perhaps returning home to suffer through the mortal wounds of his own benevolent fury. Character debut: U wan sum Snek? Extended canon: In progress Associates: None official Allegiances: None official Enemies: None official Aptitudes: Energy Perception: This is a trait which is inherent to the people of Grandis. One can perceive the flow of sources of energy around them as another sense. Sensory adaption within the body has caused modulation to gauge the flow of vital residual elements around the mage to regulate the flow of the arcane. Joshua describes the feeling as complex, stemming rather just off of the skin, a constant vibrance of possibility which pulsates routinely to monitor spiritual neutrality. As energy manifests, possibility takes the shape of reality, and loses neutrality; creating ripples that are perceived by their intent. That is, that they align sensations of willpower to the energy, which are perceived in sensation according to the will of the monitor itself. This allows for enhanced function processing, allowing for more focused spellcraft, and accelerated reflexes on a basis that reacts to a positive or negative response from this extra sense. Ergokinetic/Martial Combat Prowess: In compensating for a lack in physical strength, the Grandian military had developed both Martial and Mystic arts hand in hand, long before their worlds end. They designed techniques that allowed for extensive use of momentum, weight, and speed, angular trajectory, placement of balance, and the discipline of the mind to regulate the flow of spiritual energy throughout, and around them. Through the use of vocal Cantrip, Symbolism, Commandment of the Elements, and Reactive force Alchemy, many Martial Sorcery schools opened. These became commonplace defense arts throughout the world, spawning vast techniques to implement effective incantations, and disciplines of effective arcane setup through the use of martial arts. While technology advanced, as did Martial Sorcery, applying to the trades of blades, and eventually projectile dispersion weapons. In the greatest age of Grandis, Sorcery and Technology found comfort in development side by side, and Martial Sorcery became less popular; even within the military. Most elaborate processes could be programmed into a blade or bandoleer somehow, sigils of focus found inside a barrel or along a hilt. Most forms of the old applications had become science, no longer crafts themselves. Joshua learned the lost crafts of Martial Sorcery as a youth, an orphan among the poorest of circles within Grandis; filled with warlocks, cybernetic thugs, and the last of some dying elder races. He was taught that through enduring great trauma, one drew out their dormant willpower, and that mental anguish, and the repeated breaking of ones physical limits were the path to Vibrational Alignment, a state in which spiritual energy is transfered seamlessly through the body, stimulated by the senses which focus into the mind, and stirring emotion fueled passion and purpose that give rise to the spirit in a cycle that repeats itself until the will is made manifest; flowing through the body and becoming a product of reality, Sorcery. It is with these same realizations, and beliefs, that he was disciplined in Martial Arts, acting without hesitation, positioning naturally, and striking with cause; in cycles of palm and fore blocks, fluid claw strikes, powerful kicks, calculated joint locks, and precise blows to vital points of vulnerability. This blend of combat excels in close quarters defense, while allowing simultaneous access to crafts of Cantrips, Elemental affinities, and the concentration of spiritual energy through body symbolism and signing; which imprint residual energies for sigil formation. Exoteric Cantrips: Also known as the ability to draw power from an Eldritch language. Strangely, Joshua can still cast Sorceries via words of power relevant to the dead world Grandis, except, his lips always fail his memory. Instead he speaks in circles, conjuring the desired spells from a gibberish twist of the tongue which affixes half of a relevant word relating to it's intent and alters it's outcome. "Xygyx Flamalf" - Invocation of the strange heat of a dying world, calling forth a rune of translucent fire that holds distinct shape and can be moved through willpower, somehow burning hotter as it dies out, becoming like a liquid magma. "Xygyx Gaiag" - Invocation of the strange minerals of a dying world, summoning a spinning obsidian slab which flakes into dust that appears as shadow that can be moved through willpower. This shadow crystalizes into solid shards from it's source, the rune, to it's peak as the Cantrip fades, shattering thereafter. "Xygyx Aquqa" - Invocation of the strange tides of a dying world, whirling uncontrollably away from a central rune that slams waves outward which flow like the wind, sharply, relentlessly. As the rune begins to die off, these waves wash back, striking again from behind and slamming into the central point, forming a bubble that squeezes, and bursts, spilling everything out at once. "Xygyx Etrte" - Invocation of the strange currents of a dying world, tethering a structured electric field to a wild rune that accesses the field through willpower, arcing pale lightning out of the ground and into the air. As the storm subsides, and the rune fades, lighting strikes it's targets a second time; arcing between the simultaneous strikes. Physical Symbolism Sorcery: By utilizing Martial Sorcery techniques, Joshua can cast useful Sorcery by realigning channels of spiritual energy with his body as the medium. These techniques are often hand in hand with close quarters combat, and through CQC, can sometimes be used to transfer or cut off energies to the target. Spell Sigil Formation: The ability to craft spell sigils, which house energy that is activated when the sigil is complete or subject to alchemic reaction, forming Sorcery. Elemental Sigils: These are formed easily enough by channeling through the hands, tracing illuminated patterns that take the form of lesser spells, or outlining and imprinting them in more complex, and powerful applications of larger influence. Hex rings: These are formed as ominous dark energies, manifesting into cursed circles that draw ill will when traced, and must be initiated through contact of the caster and target. Inflicts ailments like fatigue, poison, paralysis, madness, or the like. Stellar tracing: While not having the astrological knowledge required to do so, Josh claims that he could learn to draw upon the stars for power if he knew enough about them. Element Conjuration: The ability to manifest the Elements by drawing residual energies together using willpower. Generally enhanced through the use of crafts, and their complexity. Firearm Proficiency: Joshua has learned to operate firearms, including magitech variations and the like. Through extensive use, and driven by his love for machining, he has done allot of his own maintenance, and even customized his personal sidearm to act as a spiritual emitter. Blood magic: Josh's Eldritch blood is volatile to spiritual energy, being usable as a source of twisted fuel for arcana at the cost of his flesh. Strangely enough, his body can also draw energy into wounds, helping survive mortal blows, and mending flesh back together over time. This mending appears to be significantly increased as the other dimensional man gets closer to his home. Grandian Waltz (Exoteric traversal): Josh longs for Grandis, flowing sorrow and loneliness through him, which pulls his spirit toward the dead world from any direction, painfully unraveling him into an Eldritch cloud of traveling smoke that resembles definite shape. He cannot influence the world around him while in this state, but can travel like the breeze for a short duration before resuming physicality. Overuse of this ability begins to drive him mad, stirring fear and confusion, and may cause him to speak jumbled words, lose memories, or black out. Possessions: Grandian coat and boots: A long burgundy coat, and his trusty spurred dogs. Nothing special to note, he's just fond of them. L.A.S.E.R Grand Cannon: The lever action spell emissions revolver, Grand Cannon, gathers energy inside the chamber of this long gun as the lever along the grip is cocked, passing kinetic symbols around a cylindrical focus that gather percussive force. These energies spring to life as the hammer is brought back, projecting a sight beam which aligns a sigil, and eject as non-elemental piercing Sorcery out of the barrel toward their target. This gun is single action, although fired as fast as one can crank and shoot, which can be done quickly in succession. After six shots, the chamber goes dormant, requiring that it be spun along the cylinder freely to channel another clip, and the glyphs on the chamber glow dimly when they house ammunition. @NUMBER N1N3 was the original account used to post this character, and has been tagged to verify my usage of such.
  5. So what's the goal in mind here with Jason? Do we aim to capture him, perhaps try to free him from the Enrele so that he can serve as a bigger plot device? If this is a preferred outcome, I've an idea that seems rather convenient. It seems to add further accreditation to lore that we might be able to submerge him into water and use his holy aura to play against the Enrele, and drive it out of him. Elizabeth needs frequent sanitary treatment to prevent illness over extended periods, and it wouldn't be without sense to think she might have an aquatic stasis pod housed in the estate; as her weakened immune system might struggle with Dougton's pathogens.
  6. My pa is dyslexic, so I've got no problems in trying to help you make sense of the text. I'm at work right now for another 4 hours. I'll make a short recap for you when I get home.
  7. I'd be interested in joining as a double agent of sorts. A mercenary who would willingly betray the Acolytes, but wouldn't pass up the chance to try and dig up information about Saungai. A Spy vs. Spy ordeal, if that sounds interesting.
  8. Very much still interested. I was just giving it time for the green light, as I know this has been a busy season for most walks of life. I'll get a sheet together and start rolling out plot ideas. Something like a siren song, calling those who travel near the isles to them via their dreams, urging them to look towards the stars for guidance. What they'd find is a small society led by said messiah, who promises the people that he can give them purpose if they worship him. This purpose would be the balancing of the natural and unnatural's through unified faith in him, which would pave the way for the immaculate conception of a new, para-natural mankind. Got some big ideas, hopefully the community takes to them.
  9. Another hour had passed in complete silence, every moment within thought. As the hour closed, however, Elizabeth had lost her thoughts. She grew weary, worn down by the world, and disconnected from the past. It was all very strange to the outsider, as if the weight of the worldly events around her was growing suddenly, grounding her foreign mind in reality. An influence of confusing emotion swept through the scientist, demanding insecurity, combating her authoritative conscious; drawing doubt in the success of her tasks. The doubt became anger, and then passion, bringing words from her mouth in response. Such acts seemed no longer within her control, but at the mercy of... A maker. "I will not fail the people again!" Elizabeth's teeth clenched, her nostrils flaring as she toppled the table before her, spilling books of taboo musing about. Her concern shined through her eyes, this time without any lights or display. It was written on her face in accost to her humanity. She felt compelled to move, heading for the door before hearing something breeze through the house. She had just missed Emile, so fast and instinctive that he had hardly seemed there at all to her. Liz headed downstairs, hearing gunshots ring out on the way down. The scientist batted an assistant to the side with her cane rudely on her way outside. The sun hadn't ever felt so good on her skin, bringing a natural smile to her face as she greeted Argi and Cardinal. She showed a strange change in character, waving her hand at them as she approached. "Hey guys!.. What's going on?!" She sounded carefree, friendly, youthful, and almost sheepish. "Kkkkrrrrrrrr...... Hkrrr.. Phthew." Cardinal cleared his stale throat and turned his head, spitting some mucus onto the dried up soil of the winding road which split through the rotten vineyard below. Dead leaves blistered the rows of festering crops along each side, spilling across the pathway as they blew upon each bank; into serene auburn piles. The vegetation sprawled throughout was unkept, spreading gnarled roots that withered along the steep uneven approach. They grew in decrepit stench along the estate perimeter, forming hedge that wove into a large fence which stretched oddly down the drive; as if the land there had suffered through an abscess of sorts. It was doubtful to the old man that they'd make it all the way up the trail, expecting them to probably fly into a ditch and get attacked by some deadly possessed scarecrows that would emerge from the leaves, or something cool like that; hopefully, but maybe not. His mind wondered as he munched on more corn nuts, staring in a forgetful fashion at Arnold, or was it Gerald. Cardinal was more focused on the horizon, only waving Liz over with his hand in response before Argi headed towards the cart, the old coot pointed toward a long line of thick soot circling the estate and explained why it was there. "It's almost sundown. You don't want to be out there at sundown. You want to be in the circle. The vineyard comes to life and commands the undead to spill human blood like wine, enriching it's soil...." He spit up crumbs as he rambled on. "At sundown... Or something like that. I don't know, I mean, it's called the spectral district for a reason right?" The man known as Cardinal kept going as Emile laid down more fire, stuffing his face as he went on. It was getting to be passed his bedtime, and he didn't seem worried about the situation. He wouldn't be of assistance unless he had to, and was generally oblivious to the severity of the situation due to his elderly nature. In truth, he was just lazy.
  10. I've got a half baked draft right now, mostly filler. I'll work out some more of it, and try to have it posted within another day or two.
  11. The covenant had been formed, spilling the blood of the dead worlds from a planar body, an endosymbiotic alignment of eldritch and sublunary mana which reacted to the will of an eidolon given shape by such union. It was with a short delay that a throbbing dystrophy formed beneath the surface, creeping repulsively below the victims skin; crawling into darkening veins which swelled outward from Joshua's forearms in an attempt to become animate. Pressure tensed the nerves of the cheeks, stinging along his neck, and forcing his teeth to clench. His being fought to consume itself, to trade life and limb for a lusting power, an accursed exchange of asset; the cost of which he was well familiar. The hands which had fed his Frankenstein, however, were not his own. The desperado hadn't lost his will to the flesh, but rather, lost his flesh to itself; stiffening in response to a sudden flame. Sofia had doused him in a gout of fire, causing a grim reaction of sorts. Embers bore into his back, fuming as they dug beneath the epidermis. The pilot pulled his hand away from the light which assaulted his eyes, foregoing sight and sense as he blacked out in pain. His left side steamed in an ephemeral moment, combusting spontaneously thereafter. Ectoplasmic heat rose from the mages charred skin, melding into translucent flames which cast a morbid shadow behind him. Any would find that within this darkness, the flames spread like wildfire, casting deeper pockets that extended it's clutches. Dread Fire, growing from the darkness, burning hotter in the presence of fear and despair. The arcane reaction had ignited Josh's blood, no longer strictly a thing of magic; but a product of the covenant. The very same which covered Sofia was no different, with little distinction of friend or foe, igniting without the same confines of mortal limitation which she had freed the pilot from. It would attempt to feed off of her own mana, burning uncontrollably if successful. After all, what did it matter now, if they burned into ash in a blaze of glory. Even unconscious, Joshua was prepared to slay his enemies, his body crisping from the Dread Flame which overtook his chest and crept across his face; accentuating his dull eyes. A maddened smile crept beneath his nose as he spread shadows forth, paying no mind to anything other than combating the immense light. More flame wreathed across his body, spreading pain which swelled his strength further as his wounds began to fester, focusing pressure towards his palms as he prepared to snuff out the only other person in the room; the elder sister.
  12. Post going up tomorrow. Got a good draft rn, but sleep has fiendishly tickled my fancy.
  13. @SweetCyanide Run the jewels girl! I'll work on some sheets until then.
  14. Kudos on the post. You managed to play off of Josh's strengths and weaknesses flawlessly, even without having access to a profile (at least I think so, as I believe it was wiped from the database during clean-up.) If @Zashiii doesn't mind, can I post earlier this round?
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