- Pronouns
- He/Him
To be more anal, if he were a 9, he'd be a12!
Project Prometheus (Original Setting Superhero Quest)
Kermie
Just A Karate Bugman/Bugwoman/Bugthing
- Location
- Somewhere On The Planet
- Pronouns
- He/She/They
BRAND NEW SENTENCE COUNTER: 7
(DO YOU GUYS UNDERSTAND HOW THIS SOUNDS OUT OF CONTEXT)
ReaperofInterest
Herald of Disaster
I'm looking forward to getting Wolong's help with Synergies. They're going to be so very useful!
So if we end up combining Justice Unlimited and New Dawn down the road, any proposals for the merger name?
New Justice? Justice United? Though that last one seems more like an alternate world where by some miracle we combined Justice Unlimited, New Dawn, and Global Justice.
New Justice? Justice United? Though that last one seems more like an alternate world where by some miracle we combined Justice Unlimited, New Dawn, and Global Justice.
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Hmm Valiant Shade's in honor of the founders and leader of both orgs?
- Pronouns
- He/Him
God, I do not envy what you need to do, but also, if 5 samples and E-B was enough to make most of us drool... I'm going to be swimming in saliva when we see our options, I'll have to change into a swimsuit.
SolarGemX
The Crystalized Sun
- Location
- Somewhere in the Cosmos
- Pronouns
- He/Him
We need Ambrosia and candidates STAT! Gods the number of possibilities.... Im pretty sure a lot of the combos/plans we have are good but if I dont see at least 1 plan being reworked thanks to the new DNA samples, I will be homestly surprised.
Its why I;m voting for Puella next turn. We cant afford R-Train yet since Hero Worhip is too vital to miss and Puella mission line should atleast give us another High T candidate.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I have good news!
I wish we/I could help with generating dna samples, but that seems like it's deeper lore and mechanics stuff than just the candidate submissions.
Back Issue #7: The Hunger of the Night
- Pronouns
- He/Him
There must always be someone on The Frozen Throne.
Gaspard Girardot knew this as surely as he knew his own name. Everyone in the Frozen Throne knew this truth, it was immutable as the pale white sky.
Gaspard found himself shivering and redoubled his efforts—a chill now would be fatal. The area around him—the area everywhere in the Frozen Throne—was composed of buildings constructed from a transparent, blue crystal. It was so cold it burned to touch, even as it wicked away heat, movement, and life.
That was the price the Frozen Throne enacted for trespassing on its person. Once you stepped inside, there was no leaving. A man could walk in the same direction for three days and three nights and end up right where he started. You couldn't trust the size of buildings and alleyways—sometimes they would stretch themselves on forever, the doorway always seeming just within reach. Sometimes they would shrink as you moved, collapsing around your head and squeezing, squeezing, until you were trapped and became one with the landscape.
One could not find food unless the Throne willed it. Safe places to sleep were for the chosen few. Stopping for too long meant the cold would get into your bones, taking everything for the Throne until there was nothing left of you.
And no matter where you went, you could always see it out of the corner of your eye. A frozen body with a crown of ice sitting atop a towering throne the size of mountains.
There must always be someone on The Frozen Throne.
Gaspard had lived here for twelve years, left in this icy wasteland as a boy. It was a favored place to dispose of unwanted things, and his mother must have felt that way about him. She shepherded him here and disappeared forever with her new husband.
Back then, there were old-heads, people who could remember this place when it was called Hyland Park. One day the Frozen Throne appeared and silently declared its sovereignty over the area. According to them, year by year it slowly grew, taking new territory by inches. There used to be more outsiders then, lured by the promise of great treasures if they could brave the environment. Others came to see if they could defeat the Throne and stop its expansion. Others were just curious.
They all become one with the Throne. Outsiders were a rarity now.
Gaspard was blessed not only by the Throne, but by the heavens. An old-head told him he was a "metahuman", a person granted special powers that put them above all others. All Gaspard knew was that he could devour the feelings of others for himself and, from them, grow strong. Strong enough to resist the summons that echoed in his head.
For, occasionally the body sitting atop the snowy mountain would shatter and break, too rotten to be of use anymore. Then the Throne would call upon one its subjects whom it suffered to live to sit on it anew. The summons was compulsory, irresistible, to be a frosted corpse in service to this place.
Gaspard knew that a new Sovereign was due soon. He knew the Throne desired him and grew frustrated with his recalcitrance. He also knew he wasn't strong enough yet to resist—he must feed, become mighty to disobey the orders that echoed in his soul.
And so he hunted, but prey was scarce. The Throne was mocking him, sending him down spiraling corridors into infinity. It was trying to starve him, make him weak. He shivered again and began to feel despair when he heard it.
"Fala, amigão! What's with you guys, being all friendly? Getting a little close, yeah?"
Prey! Gaspard teleported, confusing the Throne and charged towards the voices. He saw several other subjects—no long for this word, they already had icicles in their hair—going after a young, skinny boy with dark skin wearing a jacket that was an eye-searing shade of green and yellow. Gaspard felt little but dull fear from the subjects, and consumed their emotions without a second thought. But they boy, he was brimming with joy and curiosity. Something . . . something Gaspard hadn't tasted in a long time.
Was he an outsider? Did he have news of the world beyond the Throne? Gaspard decided to take the risk and appeared before him.
"Meu deus! Give a little warning, guy! I nearly met my avó too soon!"
"Who . . ." Gaspard croaked, this throat hoarse through disuse, "Who are you?"
"Ah! So glad you asked!" He struck a pose, holding up a camera with a large lens, "I am Marcos Medeiros de Canto! But you may call me, Memoria!"
Gaspard laughed unkindly, "I'll call you a fool. You'll never leave now that you're here."
"I have my ways of coming and going, but thank you for worrying about me!" He fished a thermos out of a backpack and spread a blanket on the ground. "Now, I was about to have lunch. I can't let my savior go hungry! Would you care to join me?"
"You have food?!" Gaspard could feel the hunger clawing at his belly.
"But of course! Hot soup courtesy of minha irmã. Have a cup, why don't you?"
Memoria unscrewed the lid and poured a long draft of a hot liquid whose smell made Gaspard's mouth water. He snatched it as soon as Memoria held it out to him, greedily drinking so fast that he choked on the vegetables floating with him.
"Hey, hey! Slow down! It's not going anywhere! Food should be savored, yeah?"
Gaspard didn't respond, but slowed down all the same.
Memoria looked around. "I'm something of a traveler. I want to see the whole world and capture it with my camera here."
He held it up and pointed it at Gaspard. "Say cheese!"
It went off with a click and blinding flash, and he continued, "I came here because the Frozen Throne has always been in my backyard, but I've never stopped by. And you know what? This place stinks! It's cold and the locals are rude. How do you live here?"
Gaspard let out a mocking shriek of laughter. "Live here? We are trapped here. We live because the Throne has use for us."
"Hmm, so you would leave if you could?"
"I told you once, boy! No one can leave!" There must always be someone on The Frozen Throne.
Memoria hummed but didn't reply. Instead he fished around in his breast pocket until he pulled out a picture.
"This is my sister's bar. She serves food too, but the alcohol is where the money is at." The photo was of a small, dingy building with tables and chairs, as well as a long bar with dozens of colored bottles. It looked so beautiful Gaspard felt tears in his eyes.
"Why would you ever leave there?" he whispered.
"Because I can always go back," Memoria replied, "Which is why I keep this picture next to my heart. Now answer my question: would you leave if you could?"
There must always be someone on The Frozen Throne.
"Yes."
"Then take my hand, meu amigo." Memoria held out his palm. After a second, Gaspard took it.
And the world changed. The picture grew and grew until it filled his vision, the icy wind that had been there for his entire life, gone. The sounds and smells threatened to overwhelm him as he distantly could hear someone shouting.
"Marcos! Porra, tu tá de sacanagem comigo! What have I told you about just appearing here!? And right before opening!"
"Irmã, irmã! I'm a hero! I'm doing a good deed!"
"A good—Que porra é essa? Who is this homeless boy on my floor!?"
The words drifted over Gaspard, but he paid them no mind. He was warm, so warm that a smile came to his face as he slipped into his first peaceful sleep in a decade.
There must always be someone on The Frozen Throne.
But not him.
Gaspard Girardot knew this as surely as he knew his own name. Everyone in the Frozen Throne knew this truth, it was immutable as the pale white sky.
Gaspard found himself shivering and redoubled his efforts—a chill now would be fatal. The area around him—the area everywhere in the Frozen Throne—was composed of buildings constructed from a transparent, blue crystal. It was so cold it burned to touch, even as it wicked away heat, movement, and life.
That was the price the Frozen Throne enacted for trespassing on its person. Once you stepped inside, there was no leaving. A man could walk in the same direction for three days and three nights and end up right where he started. You couldn't trust the size of buildings and alleyways—sometimes they would stretch themselves on forever, the doorway always seeming just within reach. Sometimes they would shrink as you moved, collapsing around your head and squeezing, squeezing, until you were trapped and became one with the landscape.
One could not find food unless the Throne willed it. Safe places to sleep were for the chosen few. Stopping for too long meant the cold would get into your bones, taking everything for the Throne until there was nothing left of you.
And no matter where you went, you could always see it out of the corner of your eye. A frozen body with a crown of ice sitting atop a towering throne the size of mountains.
There must always be someone on The Frozen Throne.
Gaspard had lived here for twelve years, left in this icy wasteland as a boy. It was a favored place to dispose of unwanted things, and his mother must have felt that way about him. She shepherded him here and disappeared forever with her new husband.
Back then, there were old-heads, people who could remember this place when it was called Hyland Park. One day the Frozen Throne appeared and silently declared its sovereignty over the area. According to them, year by year it slowly grew, taking new territory by inches. There used to be more outsiders then, lured by the promise of great treasures if they could brave the environment. Others came to see if they could defeat the Throne and stop its expansion. Others were just curious.
They all become one with the Throne. Outsiders were a rarity now.
Gaspard was blessed not only by the Throne, but by the heavens. An old-head told him he was a "metahuman", a person granted special powers that put them above all others. All Gaspard knew was that he could devour the feelings of others for himself and, from them, grow strong. Strong enough to resist the summons that echoed in his head.
For, occasionally the body sitting atop the snowy mountain would shatter and break, too rotten to be of use anymore. Then the Throne would call upon one its subjects whom it suffered to live to sit on it anew. The summons was compulsory, irresistible, to be a frosted corpse in service to this place.
Gaspard knew that a new Sovereign was due soon. He knew the Throne desired him and grew frustrated with his recalcitrance. He also knew he wasn't strong enough yet to resist—he must feed, become mighty to disobey the orders that echoed in his soul.
And so he hunted, but prey was scarce. The Throne was mocking him, sending him down spiraling corridors into infinity. It was trying to starve him, make him weak. He shivered again and began to feel despair when he heard it.
"Fala, amigão! What's with you guys, being all friendly? Getting a little close, yeah?"
Prey! Gaspard teleported, confusing the Throne and charged towards the voices. He saw several other subjects—no long for this word, they already had icicles in their hair—going after a young, skinny boy with dark skin wearing a jacket that was an eye-searing shade of green and yellow. Gaspard felt little but dull fear from the subjects, and consumed their emotions without a second thought. But they boy, he was brimming with joy and curiosity. Something . . . something Gaspard hadn't tasted in a long time.
Was he an outsider? Did he have news of the world beyond the Throne? Gaspard decided to take the risk and appeared before him.
"Meu deus! Give a little warning, guy! I nearly met my avó too soon!"
"Who . . ." Gaspard croaked, this throat hoarse through disuse, "Who are you?"
"Ah! So glad you asked!" He struck a pose, holding up a camera with a large lens, "I am Marcos Medeiros de Canto! But you may call me, Memoria!"
Gaspard laughed unkindly, "I'll call you a fool. You'll never leave now that you're here."
"I have my ways of coming and going, but thank you for worrying about me!" He fished a thermos out of a backpack and spread a blanket on the ground. "Now, I was about to have lunch. I can't let my savior go hungry! Would you care to join me?"
"You have food?!" Gaspard could feel the hunger clawing at his belly.
"But of course! Hot soup courtesy of minha irmã. Have a cup, why don't you?"
Memoria unscrewed the lid and poured a long draft of a hot liquid whose smell made Gaspard's mouth water. He snatched it as soon as Memoria held it out to him, greedily drinking so fast that he choked on the vegetables floating with him.
"Hey, hey! Slow down! It's not going anywhere! Food should be savored, yeah?"
Gaspard didn't respond, but slowed down all the same.
Memoria looked around. "I'm something of a traveler. I want to see the whole world and capture it with my camera here."
He held it up and pointed it at Gaspard. "Say cheese!"
It went off with a click and blinding flash, and he continued, "I came here because the Frozen Throne has always been in my backyard, but I've never stopped by. And you know what? This place stinks! It's cold and the locals are rude. How do you live here?"
Gaspard let out a mocking shriek of laughter. "Live here? We are trapped here. We live because the Throne has use for us."
"Hmm, so you would leave if you could?"
"I told you once, boy! No one can leave!" There must always be someone on The Frozen Throne.
Memoria hummed but didn't reply. Instead he fished around in his breast pocket until he pulled out a picture.
"This is my sister's bar. She serves food too, but the alcohol is where the money is at." The photo was of a small, dingy building with tables and chairs, as well as a long bar with dozens of colored bottles. It looked so beautiful Gaspard felt tears in his eyes.
"Why would you ever leave there?" he whispered.
"Because I can always go back," Memoria replied, "Which is why I keep this picture next to my heart. Now answer my question: would you leave if you could?"
There must always be someone on The Frozen Throne.
"Yes."
"Then take my hand, meu amigo." Memoria held out his palm. After a second, Gaspard took it.
And the world changed. The picture grew and grew until it filled his vision, the icy wind that had been there for his entire life, gone. The sounds and smells threatened to overwhelm him as he distantly could hear someone shouting.
"Marcos! Porra, tu tá de sacanagem comigo! What have I told you about just appearing here!? And right before opening!"
"Irmã, irmã! I'm a hero! I'm doing a good deed!"
"A good—Que porra é essa? Who is this homeless boy on my floor!?"
The words drifted over Gaspard, but he paid them no mind. He was warm, so warm that a smile came to his face as he slipped into his first peaceful sleep in a decade.
There must always be someone on The Frozen Throne.
But not him.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Dropping this update for no reason in particular. Remember when I could write updates under 2k?
Unfortnately, yeah. By necessity, all of the DNA profiles are people who died and thus have a place in the lore and setting already.
Unfortnately, yeah. By necessity, all of the DNA profiles are people who died and thus have a place in the lore and setting already.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I feel worse and worse for the Defiance Unit's fate with every new fact we learned about them. They weren't saints, but it's clear that they didn't deserve what happened to them.
ReaperofInterest
Herald of Disaster
Well this is interesting. It's also rather scary. Has anyone figured out a way to stop the Frozen Throne, or how it came to be in the first place?
- Location
- San Ramon, CA
Palisade: So, how did it go? Are they open to helping against Monarch? Did we get what we needed?
Wolong: ...The good news is that yes, we'll be getting everything we needed and more. Intel on Monarch, assistance from their "Novalight Jr.", even healing for Arc.
Miss Naught: That's... that's incredible. But what's the bad news?
Gentleman James: We're being bought out, aren't we? Subsumed by our spinoff organization.
Wolong: ...Lives will be saved, and there will be hope for the future of this city. If our independence and pride is the price for it, then it is more than a bargain.
Wolong: ...The good news is that yes, we'll be getting everything we needed and more. Intel on Monarch, assistance from their "Novalight Jr.", even healing for Arc.
Miss Naught: That's... that's incredible. But what's the bad news?
Gentleman James: We're being bought out, aren't we? Subsumed by our spinoff organization.
Wolong: ...Lives will be saved, and there will be hope for the future of this city. If our independence and pride is the price for it, then it is more than a bargain.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Nope and nope. And it's expanding every year, though usually only an inch or two. One year it grew a whole foot and everyone crapped their pants, but then it slowed down again.
They fucked up by going after the idle rich but yeh. Though I wonder what drive memoria to villainy since he just wanted to see the world.
Gaspard I can see being purely due to loyalty.
That said props to Memoria fighting in the QZ despite everythign. May have live as a villain for a time but he died a hero no matter what.
I kinda want to give someone a Nox+Memoria power now. Dont know how good id be though.
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
This is a totally random thought, but did Uiara have to play firefighter whenever the Demon Flamez were involved, given her ability?
- Pronouns
- He/Him
She and Nora met because Nora hired/blackmailed her into taking out the Demon Flamez after they robbed her following her father's death.
let me guess the year gaspard managed to escape?
Kermie
Just A Karate Bugman/Bugwoman/Bugthing
- Location
- Somewhere On The Planet
- Pronouns
- He/She/They
The funniest thing that I got from this chapter was that the one combo with Memoria and Red Huntress in it? "Girl from the Ring as an superhero"? Out of those people used as DNA samples, Red Huntress may have been the less sane metahuman.
SolarGemX
The Crystalized Sun
- Location
- Somewhere in the Cosmos
- Pronouns
- He/Him
World of Warcraft is that you? Huh, ever expanding frozen wasteland and it doesnt even have A Lich King yet... how many eldrich horrors are there in this world? First Leviathan and its Kids and now this. Do we have an abyssal sea somewhere? In before someone says the Bermuda Triangle.
It raises up.... and drags you down. What lies there? Nobody knows....
But it sees you...
...did I just add Cookie Run Kingdom pics as a reference? Yes. CRK lore be crazy... they literaly have an Eldrich sea. A insane gigantess mermaid (with a sad backstory) and the current arc involves 5 acient beings of unfathomable power that nearly brought the end of the world, in which the literal gods of the world put them in a massive time out for all eternity... they arent happy because of that. Seriously one is basically an eldrich Jester that basically has ALL of the worlds knowledge in his head and used it to cause wars...
.......
I ... think I may have lost my point somewhere.....
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SolarGemX
The Crystalized Sun
- Location
- Somewhere in the Cosmos
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Reeeeeallly puts a perspective on things huh?