Supernatural Academy (An Advanced RP) discussion
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[deleted user]
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Sep 08, 2013 09:19AM
"What's wrong Sabine? I thought I was a fine piece of ass." He smirked at his friend, his tone teasing. He liked Sabine, although he wasn't sure if she liked him. He found her comical, which Skyra severely lacked in the worst of times. But you weren't hugging her awhile ago like some pervert. He almost laughed at loud at his own thought, but instead held a steady grin, his pen scribbling furiously over the page.
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Hearing Skyra say that she also found Sebastian attractive did in fact make Sabine a little better. She was just about to stand up when the demon suddenly commented on his ass. She peeked threw her fingers, saw that this fact was true, and went into depressive mode once more. He's sexy and he knows it, she thought, sorrowfully.
He kept an eye on her, but continued writing. No way was he letting her get her hands on his new baby. Not since last time.
He was currently rewriting his passage on his own species. It would take up at least thirty pages, but it was always his first entry. At the moment he could care less if she saw what he was writing; it was just the ranking system of his kind. For a moment he longed to be with some other demons. They were a rather frank species, and always got to the point. No emotions involved, or if they were, they wouldn't address them. Seb was a bit different from most, he knew that. But he wasn't a rare sort. He just preferred not to stab friends in the back. A nice quality trait, he thought.
He was currently rewriting his passage on his own species. It would take up at least thirty pages, but it was always his first entry. At the moment he could care less if she saw what he was writing; it was just the ranking system of his kind. For a moment he longed to be with some other demons. They were a rather frank species, and always got to the point. No emotions involved, or if they were, they wouldn't address them. Seb was a bit different from most, he knew that. But he wasn't a rare sort. He just preferred not to stab friends in the back. A nice quality trait, he thought.
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((Nah, do I have to? This is a quite Sebra moment. And, apparently, Sebra moments might be numbered. -_- ))
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Finally Fredrick rose, the deer meat completely prepared for a long travel and bundled up in a bag made of the deer's skin. "You and you," he told Sebastian and Sabine, setting the pack of pemmican off to the side.
"You are woefully unprepared for battle. Choose a weapon that I will instruct you in and I will train you in the basics before we go forward."
((Just to be clear, he will be sending them against each other so that he doesn't accidentally kill them.))
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At this, Sabine perked right up. She rose to her feet once more, and turned to Fredrick with her hands clasped. She knew exactly what weapon she’d want. “Can I have one of those canes with a sword inside?” she said, her eyes widening. “It’s classy, practical, and easy to carry around. It’s the perfect weapon for me. And, as a added bonus, I’ll look awesome.”
"How long do you want it?" Fredrick had twelve, and began pulling them out of a mini-abyss. One was more a dagger than a sword, one was bigger than Sabine, the rest were somewhere in between, and because this is a magical world, one was the perfect size. The rest were somewhere around that range. He left them for her to make a selection and began laying out choices for Sebastian, throwing down his jacket (loaded with knives and a half-dozen tomahawks) and letting him see the weapons inside along with his bow and arrows. The weapons he kept on him were Blacksblade (buckled at his waist on the left) and a single skinning knife of no apparent significance, buckled on the right. No one touched either of those but him.
Sebastian was all ears at this news. He exited the tent, notebook tucked under his arm. Although he never required sustenance to survive, his mouth still watered at the faint smell of food.
"It'd be cool to be a sniper during the battle." He mused, knowing it wouldn't be an acceptable response. It would have to be a raw type of protections. Something dirty and crude. It would have to decapitate something and get the job done quickly.
"Since we're against Angels, I could probably get my hands on a few of their blades and melt them into bullets. Then use them as ammo for the battle, or just make it into a different weapon."
Sebastian liked the idea of being a sniper, still. It was probably because of that damn show Sabine had him watch. He recalled the sniper that worked for Moriarty in the finale had been named Sebastian. Awesome.
"It'd be cool to be a sniper during the battle." He mused, knowing it wouldn't be an acceptable response. It would have to be a raw type of protections. Something dirty and crude. It would have to decapitate something and get the job done quickly.
"Since we're against Angels, I could probably get my hands on a few of their blades and melt them into bullets. Then use them as ammo for the battle, or just make it into a different weapon."
Sebastian liked the idea of being a sniper, still. It was probably because of that damn show Sabine had him watch. He recalled the sniper that worked for Moriarty in the finale had been named Sebastian. Awesome.
"Angel weapons are terrible against those with positive energy, like, say, angels. However, I don't recall being told we were going up against them." His tone of voice implied that he was out against the demons. Any allies of the demons who got in the way... well, that was unfortunate for them. "A pistol is better for concealment, and concealment is what we'll be going for when we invade the Abyss." Again.
"Would you like a pistol loaded with hellfire bullets? Those work against any creature."
Finally, Sabine pulled a cane from the pile. It was light, it the colour of darkness, it was sleek, and it only came to her waist. It was perfect. She twisted the silver snake-headed top and unsheathed the dagger like sword. Her face reflected off the cold metal. Sabine was a banshee in love. “I chose this one,” she declared loudly, putting the blade back in the cane.
"Yeah, that'd be cool." He shrugged, compromising. "I'd also like another sort of concealed weapon, y'know, in case someone takes away my gun." Sebastian added, envisioning himself fighting someone. It was weird, no doubt.
He did however raise his eyebrows at Fredrick at the one sentence. "Of course we're fighting Angels. I've talked to one." He realized he probably shouldn't have mentioned Samael, but whatever.
He did however raise his eyebrows at Fredrick at the one sentence. "Of course we're fighting Angels. I've talked to one." He realized he probably shouldn't have mentioned Samael, but whatever.
Fredrick murmured something in Lakota that could not possibly have been a compliment and pulled a pistol from a mini-abyss, tossing the weapon to Sebastian. He gestured to the pile of 50 knives, most of which were designed for throwing or close-up combat, inviting the Lesser to take his pick.
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Hearing her friend’s voice, Sabine unsheathed the sword within her cane and did a fancy pose with it, arcing the blade above her head, point in the direction of Skyra, holding the other piece of the cane like it was her shield. “How cool do I look?” she asked.
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Well, when Sabine was contemplating being slain, she didn’t know it was going to be by her closest friend. With dirt now coating her face, she shrugged away from her own cane, saying, “I’m only learning, miss warrior princess. Wait until I’m properly trained – I’ll look cool and I’ll be able to whoop your ass.” Even though her voice was serious, her eyes twinkled with mischief.
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((Back.))Taking the two pieces back, she slide them together again. She twirled it in her fingers, marveling at it's lightness. She was truly amazed by the weapon - but also feared what the weapon represented. That this was seriously happening; that she was preparing for battle. For war. People like her weren't heros. People like her were the ones who kept the attitudes light at home. But here she was, dauntingly getting ready to fight against hunter and angels.
Sucking it up, she turned to Fredrick. "Alright," she said. "Come on. Show me what to do."
Fredrick turned back towards her and selected a cane/sword for himself. "The element of surprise is your second-to-best bet," he informed her before he hobbled on the cane, heavily leaning on it, instantly looking weaker despite how he was in full-body armor. His lowered eyebrows, hunched spine, tightened lips, and a pain in his eyes seemed to make him look completely pathetic and utterly dependent on the cane. This transformation happened in a second and ended as suddenly as it had begun as a dangerous air once again as the Nephilim straightened, tossed the cane aside, and readopted his impassive expression.
"Now you try."
Sabine frowned. She wasn’t exactly threatening in her human form, so she decided she might not need such a performance. Instead, she gave off she had a bad limp with her right leg, heavily using the snake-headed cane. Her face was a slight grimace as if she was in pain. She walked towards Fredrick a little, then stood straight once more and backed away normally.
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Nodding, Sabine shifted. In a few breaths, she was in her banshee form, long face looking fiercer, skin paler, and hair whiter. Her now extremely long limbs were like sticks, and her hands now were like claws. She had no idea how this was going to help without some sort of shawl, but went a long with it anyway. Once again, she walked with a limp, but kept her back arched, trying to look non-threatening.
((And kept her back arched.))"Good work. Do that whenever you are around potential enemies. Look as inconspicuous as possible and never let them know that you're secretly somewhat dangerous." Coming from him, somewhat was quite kind. Well, compared to gutting-her-as-persuasion-for-Skyra-to-talk, as far as relative niceness went.
Sebastian eyed the collection. Although it had variety, he wasn't very impressed.
Eventually his eyes landed on a blade of sorts that caught his eye. The hilt was made of something similar to bone (or maybe it was a bone), with a shiny blue blade. It was slightly battered and dirty, showing it's usage. The blade itself was shaped similar to a kitchen knife, though the tip was curved outwards, similar to a less dramatic sythe. The weapon itself was roughly a foot and a half in length; six inches for the grip, and a foot for the blade. It had white circular designs closer down towards the grip, along with two feathers wrapped around the hilt as well.
Sebastian liked it.
His fingers wrapped around it gingerly.
"I like this baby. She's gonna need some TLC, but I'll fix her up." He commented, more to himself than Fredrick. He brushed some of the dust off of it, frowning at the blade. It would definitely need sharpening.
The knife, Sebastian assumed, could be easily wielded as a tomahawk as well. It had the curved figure- easy for throwing. But general stabbing as well would suit it. Or hacking. You never really know.
Eventually his eyes landed on a blade of sorts that caught his eye. The hilt was made of something similar to bone (or maybe it was a bone), with a shiny blue blade. It was slightly battered and dirty, showing it's usage. The blade itself was shaped similar to a kitchen knife, though the tip was curved outwards, similar to a less dramatic sythe. The weapon itself was roughly a foot and a half in length; six inches for the grip, and a foot for the blade. It had white circular designs closer down towards the grip, along with two feathers wrapped around the hilt as well.
Sebastian liked it.
His fingers wrapped around it gingerly.
"I like this baby. She's gonna need some TLC, but I'll fix her up." He commented, more to himself than Fredrick. He brushed some of the dust off of it, frowning at the blade. It would definitely need sharpening.
The knife, Sebastian assumed, could be easily wielded as a tomahawk as well. It had the curved figure- easy for throwing. But general stabbing as well would suit it. Or hacking. You never really know.
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Fredrick had forgotten all about that old knife, so he collected the weapons he had left and dropped the ones he didn't carry at all times (the cane swords) down a mini-abyss to be sent to his base. He slung the jacket back over himself, keeping the arrows and bow outside of it for his own reasons. He had Seb and Sab line up, about six meters apart, and gave them their objectives.
"Possessor, you have to aim the handgun perfectly at the banshee for a full second and we shall assume she is dead. Banshee, pin the Possessor and put your blade where it could kill him if you wanted. You can only use your own weapons"
He positioned them, Seb with his pistol drawn and Sab with her sword at the ready, and stood behind the Possessor.
In an instant he drew and fired an arrow, hitting the back of Seb's pistol and sending it flying so that it was at Sab's feet.
"Go."
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Then she snapped out of it, her heart slamming against her ribs it felt like. Just one more reminder of her past, of what she was. She wasn't just some supernatural. Skyra had duties, a people she had to save, even through war. She shouldn't think her friends fighting was entertainment!
((If it makes her feel any better, I plan to be entertained, too.))
Sabine’s mouth hung open almost comically. She straightened her back, pulling herself to her full height, and her sword dipped to the ground. Her eyes went to Sebastian for only a moment before boring into Fredrick, a mixture of utter shock and hate. “Are you crazy?!” she shrieked, her accent thicker than ever. “This isn't the friggin' Hunger Games, mate. I’m not fighting my friend!”
"This is training. If I pit you against Skyra or myself, we may actually harm you. So I'm sending you both against someone who's around your same level. Don't kill each other, fight dirty, don't be afraid to maim, magic is not allowed. Now beat him down. I'll be giving you both advice via mental message." Fredrick remained standing, unimpressed with Sabine's noble little speech.
During the time Sabine was talking, Sebastian had bent down and picked the gun up, blinking slowly. He bent his knees a bit, getting into an attack position of sorts. Ready to flee or fight.
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((Did NO ONE read anything besides "fight" in that post? They're about twenty feet apart, Tea, and he couldn't have done that unnoticed. And TARA, THIS IS TRAINING AND HE ONLY HAS TO POINT THE GUN AT HER FOR A SECOND. Oy.
Tea, it would be a physical impossibility to walk twenty feet to right in front of Sabine and pick up the gun that's right in front of her without being noticed. And even if he could, that post was too short, methinks.))
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((Why would he kill someone, a friend, for no reason? You continually insist that Skyra is a strategist and a planner, yet you also consistently disprove that through her actions.))
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((If her ability to strategize and plan is impeded upon by, so far, EVERY SITUATION POSSIBLE, then she has no ability to strategize and plan.))
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((Well, let me give you an example from another living weapon, thrown into situations where he watched everyone he knew die, was forced to battle against the only parent he had, and was generally in a way worse situation than Skyra's in.I'll give you a hint. We're talking about Fredrick. He didn't fall apart. He found a goal and did everything he could to make it happen. His goal being to find and slaughter his mother's killer. He has now accomplished this, and all of that, yes, it helped to be a living weapon capable of magical feats and near-superhuman abilities, but his greatest weapon was strategy. As a strategist, he noticed this and was mostly dependent on it for his entire life, which, by the way, has been much longer than Skyra's. And how did he feel? Well, this is Fredrick, SOMETHING had to harden him.
Oh, and he didn't up and decide that someone would kill their friend for no reason because someone told them to train against each other.))
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So I suggest Maniac to stop suggesting certain things in such a manner. If I suddenly change her character now, it will mess up many plans and surprises I planned for this group. I'm trying to keep this thing alive and having a cliche heroine is not going to help whatsoever. I respect you and your characters much, I enjoy seeing them in action and I say psychos as a complement cause I can never make that type of character. But please, can you stop and just wait. Remember the little note I sent with another dragon, and then i mention the Plats (a different type of dragon), Hint, Hint. I know everyone is going to enjoy this surprise but if you keep doing this, I'm really going to get frustrated with this group))
((That may be a problem...Hey, want some of Fredrick's backstory? Here you go.
Belial, Lucifer's pet, The Devil's Right Hand, paced back and forth. He had been found out. His secret had reached his master's ear. The boy was in danger. He couldn't let it happen- he had to let it happen!
It had been an accident, the boy. After Explosion had defeated him, his consciousness had been trapped in his Dimensional Anchor, somewhere around North America, his power so taxed and spent that he thought he might never be able to gather enough magic to reform a body.
Then she'd found him. Eliza Black. A Native American Medicine Woman. Very rare, and very bad luck, Belial had thought at the time, for she could see right through his flimsy disguise as an amulet and saw his demon soul, a void of hate with any remaining light buried deep under denial and anger. Belial was certain that she would destroy the amulet, killing him for certain.
But she didn't.
She'd brought him back to her home in Oklahoma and fed him tiny bits of Native American magic over the span of a few weeks. He'd tried to gorge himself on it, but it came in such small amounts that he almost felt weaker at the end of each. But he had known it was actually just his own discontentment. As his power increased, he'd managed to establish a mental connection with her, sending her mental messages, to which she responded verbally.
Why didn't you kill me? had been his first question. She'd given him the benefit of the doubt, she responded.
Why are you helping me? that had been his second. Same answer.
Over time, she managed to pry from him just who he was. He was Belial, lord over all demons other than Lucifer, the Great Scourge and the Dread Wolf. She was Eliza, only child and an advocate for the return of the Black Hills to her people. She was a Lakota Sioux, she'd moved off of a small reservation that was controlled by her uncle to give her people a voice in the white man's country. Once she knew who he was, she still didn't kill him, and continued to nurse him back to health, feeding him magic so that he grew stronger. He didn't know how it had happened, but he'd ended up revealing everything to her. His perfect life up in heaven, the moment when Lucifer had cast doubt into his mind, the jealousy for the human race that all demons harbored, for they had worked for 13.8 billion years and the humans had only pleased themselves, yet The Almighty would have, in the end, made the humans lords and masters over the angels. He told her how he would have changed it had he gotten the chance, his discontentment with being what he was, how wreaking havoc and spreading evil managed to distract him from the overwhelming sense of loss that seemed imbued in his soul (for a time, at least). He didn't know why he was telling her everything, unless he had a deathwish. But she never killed him, even though everything he shared with her should have proven that he deserved it. It really shone a mirror on him, then, seeing such a stark contrast between a decent person and himself. And... it turned out that Eliza had a terminal illness. A cancer of some sort. He... he tried to heal it. It worked, stimulating her cells to purge away the cancerous cells, but the healing spell also began a life process in her reproductive system, due to how unfamiliar Belial was with healing.
It wasn't long after he'd managed to reconstruct his form (though he still wasn't able to travel between dimensions, so he was stuck there with Eliza) that he figured out that he had stimulated the growth of a half-demon, half-human baby in Eliza. He should have killed her, he knew he should have. But he didn't. Nine months passed and the baby was born. A Nephilim, Lucifer's very first attempt at breaking one of The Almighty's prophecies, a creature that Belial had feared for as long as he could remember, for they were too unpredictable, too dangerous. And his nightmare, the weapon that turned against its wielder... was a baby. Was innocent. Blameless. His son. And... he couldn't kill it. He cradled it in his arms, he cried. General Belial, Demon Lord, cried.
For the innocent baby had reminded him of his own innocent days, his 13.8 billion years of being Nimas. Of working for the Almighty, the work he loved. And now, he didn't know exactly who he wanted to be. Lucifer had found out about the boy when he was only one year old, and now he wanted Belial to make him as a demon, to force the Nephilim to adopt their ways.
But he kept wondering to himself, as he had now been forced to confront what a monster he truly was,
Why would anyone want more of that? ))
