Crouching Bacon

 

And it looks like I've assembled my four horsemen of apocalypse here *__*

Finally getting to RP with Ita, DR and Naifu again?

Coincidentally, I was going to choose a scythe... but then Monk's Spade sounded more interesting.

Goddamn you Fayfay.

Wait is Bacon Paper? I'm so confused

Wasn't sure how far was too far with the power, so I just assumed even the slightest bit of playing with it would trigger some kind of pain.

 

I kind of imagined it like trying to use muscles you never even knew you had before, or something to that effect. Hell, I don't know. I just assumed pain was involved, and took that idea and ran with it. If that's not quite how this sort of thing should be affecting Lance, then I'll edit or change stuff as needed

Hell, this is is what I felt after running for the first time in a long, long, long, long, long time.

If pain means you're using muscles you've never known you had, then I probably didn't even know I have legs.

FAYFAY NO

though thank goodness you didn't use tissue paper...

Lol ha ha Faybo is Asian continentally? Cool

He is Asian outside, Black inside, White when he gets tipsy

After Yami rewarded Rosca’s clear question with a muddy answer, Rosca decided to stay quiet for a while. Wasting her breath on half-baked crazies who just might kill her in a fit of illogical rage—there were cooler ways of leaving the mortal coil. She shook her head at Lance, who seemed just as unhappy with the situation and hung behind the group, riding her bike slowly from a distance far enough to block Yami out of her view, while being close enough to hear everyone speak. Well, mostly to hear Tailor whine. He seemed to have a thing for hotdogs.

“Is that why he asked us to go to that sausage stall? I guess anything can be a portal to hell these days.”

She took in the world’s scenery, initially awed by how wrong and out of place everything felt, then amazed at the realization that even glass roads and bomb zones looked normal after spending enough time surrounded by strangeness. Rosca’s nose wrinkled at the scent of burnt wires, burnt garbage, burnt everything.

“Yep, won’t be surprised if a forked tail shoots out of Yami’s ass.”

Eventually the pack of misfits began to peel away from the confines of the urban area, led by Yami into Bumfuck, Nowhere. Then again, Rosca decided this was much better than the shadowy confines of a dying city. They went inside the house.

What Rosca found inside was rather soothing; an entire menagerie of small animals, clinging onto plastic leaves or hiding behind dead-wood branches. It was rather soothing, compared to what they had to walk through only a few minutes before. She parked her bike close by the door and waited to see just who Myriad was.

"Watch your step. I stood on a spider once and we fought for like... two days," said Yami.

“We?”

Unsurprisingly, a disembodied voice answered Yami. The voice belonged to yet another weirdo, though her strangeness mitigated by the puppy she held to her conspicuously tattoed boob. It was a cool tattoo. Eventually Tailor joined in on the conversation, complete with many angry feels. It was a long conversation, complete with enough information to make Rosca’s head ache… literally. She wasn’t too sure, but there was one point where Ms. Boob Tat invaded her mind. Rosca sorely wished her mind could grow a foot so she could kick the invader’s ass.

Of course, things all went to shit again. A disappeared roof, a spreading darkness, and now, a search for someone called Quail-Man.

“So… powers, huh.”

Rosca threw a dirty sock into the hamper, smiling as the thing fell in dead center. Around her were various articles of other dirty clothing that she had yet to clean; her room was beginning to resemble a landfill. This was in stark contrast to the garage, which was immaculately organized and with nary a grease stain in sight.

The door to her room opened with a bang; Rosca’s mother took one look at the potential biohazards her daughter seemed to be harbouring and was about to open her mouth to deliver one hell of a sermon.

Then Rosca got a bright idea. Maybe if she tried hard enough—she locked eyes with her mom and tried to plant thoughts of forgiveness and distraction, but all she got in return was a very angry glare. Rosca’s never stared down a charging bull before; she imagined this came pretty damn close.

Once again, the Myriad Maniacs – because what else could they be, taking Yami’s invitation – gathered in an abandoned warehouse. Joey and Dahlia decided to get smart and ask for some useful information. Though the fact that this information was going to be coming from Yami was less than ideal.

“So you’re saying normal people have what we have, since Thomas drained them of it… but we have more? So what’s stopping normal people from getting more of what we have?”

Rosca stared at the puppy, idly wondering whether animals had powers too. So she asked it. This seemed to be turning into a habit, and only time would tell whether it was a good one or a foolishly dangerous thing to do.

“I’d call that dog Cerberus just in case… because I sure as shit wouldn’t be surprised if that thing turns into something dangerous. Do animals have powers too?”

Ohh, nice one Vaf.

Probs gonna specialize in Raid (because Rosca likes sticking her nose where it don't belong) then have Ruin as a secondary skill (mad BMX skills?).

Should post within the week.

That Scooby Doo couldn't solve

Devon winced as Graves wrapped his burly arms around him. The man was sturdier than he looked, and he already looked sturdy. Graves’ answer was to be expected among mercenaries, so Devon did not begrudge him his secrets. A faint wistfulness almost made him look back at Sessilé, but he tempered it with the thought of Lord Graves choking the life out of him before he even started his adventure.

As the seasoned veteran spoke of the fearsome creatures outside the cursed tower, Devon thought of how they could defeat the evil brood of beasts that threatened the peace of the land. They were not without intelligence. What more of the creatures that lay in wait for them within the tower?

The thought gave him pause. This was certainly a battle he did not want to fight on his own.

The conversation with Graves duly interrupted by the bard’s arrival, Devon looked around the room once more, taking note of a powerful-looking archer squabbling with a wizened priest. The two of them, alongside him, and the great tiger-beast he saw earlier could make a decent scouting party.

Graves goaded the bard on with some applause. It was not an unwelcome interruption; this could just be the last merry evening they will all have in a long while once they begin their journey. He joined the applause. After all, if the entertainment truly was from the Imperial Court, people usually paid good money to listen to them perform. Tonight was a free show, and weren’t the best things in life for free?

"The pleasure is mine. Your reputation proceeds you, Mr. Blanc."

The grin on Devon’s face only grew wider; any more and his face might just split. He had a reputation of his own now? Not his father’s prestige or his sister’s fame, no, the honor was his. This was most auspicious, and the adventure tomorrow would only bring fortune with a welcome such as this.

He raised his glass in acknowledgment, waiting to see how the bard would respond to the applause.

"Everyone, it would be my pleasure to celebrate our meeting with a song."

Stirring music began to play and Devon could feel the spirits in the room begin to rise—then again, it could just be the euphoric buzz of liquor mingling with the blood in his veins. Then the bard’s apparitions, as if lured in by the song, made their appearance. They moved about in a primal dance, beautiful and fearsome at the same time. As he polished off yet another mug of fine beer, Devon wondered whether the apparitions could kill just as gracefully as they danced. Something in their eyes—or was it the emptiness in their eyes—told him that it must be so. He turned to Graves.

“The creatures in the tower… are they anything like that? Somehow the bard’s managed to control them and he hasn’t even raised his voice! Think he could charm the monsters long enough for us to chop them down? Interesting crowd you’ve gathered here, Lord Graves.”

A sudden thought occurred to him.

“By the way, you never told me… Did you go into that tower alone? To be frank, that flies in the face of all military tactics, except the most drastic of measures. And even then, it’s usually a suicide mission. Something pretty damn important must have made you go in there.” He smiled. “That’s all right, you don’t have to tell me what it is. Everyone has something they’re willing to die for. As an officer it’s part of my job, finding out what my soldiers care most about, then using it to convince people to go to their deaths, if that is what the greater good requires. The best of officers can convince their men to lay their lives down for them, no questions asked. In essence, you would probably make a great general if you wanted to become one, sir. But we are mercenaries now. I suppose it is most accurate to say that we die for ourselves.”

Devon laughed.

“Not that I plan on dying at all. My sister would kill me if that happened.”

Just came back and BAM.

Mega-update.

*puts on reading glasses*

@Bacon: That's the funniest thing I've read all morning. XD

Thank you, thank you.

Don't forget to tip the barmaid

On a semi-related note, now I wish someone made a jester character. Imagine his/her/its final skill: an awful joke that makes the beings that hear it die of frustration. If Devon dies, I'm taking dibs on this character.

When I read Markhala's bio, I thought she'd be this badass emotionless blood queen, but the way DR writes her makes her feel like the star of her action shoujo manga. Not that that's a bad thing.

Am I the only one who wants to see what the ox of her dreams looks like? (holy shit, what if she falls in love with one of the monsters in the tower!!)

Devon turned from Lord Graves and his lady for a moment, the noble’s roving eyes flitting over the ever-growing crowd. He saw a large creature; to be fair, there were plenty of well-built adventurers around, but this tiger took the cake. He (or she, the creature wasn’t human, after all) would make a good ally in the worst of fights, it seemed. Close to the formidable tiger, a yellow-haired man passed by too quickly for Devon to pay him any heed. He narrowed his eyes and took another mouthful of liquor.

Just then, another adventurer came in. This one, unlike the others, introduced himself to everyone--and with quite a flourish.

"Greetings heroes, it is pleasure to meet you all. I am Hiori Ichiya, esteemed poet, musician, and official soothsayer from the Imperial Court. Do not worry if you have not heard of me, as I am of little consequence. Just know that your story will be in good hands, as I hope to travel with you all and recording your grand and epic deeds."

“A bard? And from the Imperial Court no less. Well, well, this is a party after all.”

Then, his curiosity satisfied, Devon waited for Lord Graves to tell his story.

Posted!

As everyone eventually coagulated into some kind of group, Rosca took note of their names, hanging back to observe them, and at the same time, give them a head start on distance. She didn’t particularly feel like pushing her bike all the way to wherever it was that they were headed to, so she rode a few paces behind the group—close enough to hear what they were all talking about, but far enough to actually ride the bike as slowly as possible, which was quite frustrating for Rosca. She decided to concentrate on the back of Tailor’s head. And the smell of bacon and eggs in the morning.

Then all of a sudden, Yami veered off by herself to the edge of the bridge, doing Yami-things. It was Rosca’s new word for the unusual things the woman did, which was probably 99% of her daily activities. Not that she minded; it was refreshing to be around a bunch of nutjobs for a change... and they were supposed to be older than her.

Rosca let her foot come down, bringing her bike to a halt. Then, like Thomas, she noticed the lack of people in the previously jam-packed area. A conspicuous woman replaced them all-

“That’s some serious air her skirt’s getting. And that hair--are we in a fucking shampoo commercial?”

Now, Yami wasn’t just doing Yami-things. She was doing things that weren’t supposed to even be possible. Rosca decided to expand the meaning of Yami-things. Just then, another girl flew in to join the party. Literally. The way Tailor face-palmed told her that this was probably not the best situation to be in. Or maybe he just didn’t like party-crashers? Thomas was very confused but he handled it in a very uncool manner, which placed him as a definite weenie in Rosca’s books… until she remembered his abilities. Not that there was any way to escape it; the bridge was broken now, and she had a sneaking suspicion that they weren’t anywhere, if that made sense.

Then the party-crasher started running her mouth and giving them all directions. Rosca glanced at Lance to see what Mr. Congeniality would do. Her eyes widened as the man took a stand and sided with Tailor. Things quickly went to shit after that; Thomas fell to the ground, his powers awakened, but then he was quickly put to sleep by Yami’s touch. Tailor lost his shit soon after that.

It was all very bizarre; wasn’t Tailor supposed to be in control? He was Myriad’s contact after all. Why does Yami seem to know more about Myriad than he does?

She thought hard. Awake or asleep? Thomas seemed like he was still breathing. Rosca poked Joey, whispering quickly.

“Dude. If shit happens, you better make sure my bike makes it in one piece.”

Then she raised her voice, deliberately ignoring the sword dangling at Yami's hip.

“Hey Yami. If you made him quiet just like that, doesn’t that mean you’re like him too?”