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Welcome to World of Remnant. We are an AU, no-wordcount RWBY roleplay beginning at the conclusion of Volume 3. The Fall Maiden is dead, her powers in the hands of the enemy. Beacon Academy has fallen, and Vale is soon to fall itself. The Vytal Festival is a disaster; thousands dead, many more injured. Grimm populations are at an ever-present surplus. What dire circumstances has Remnant fallen prey to?

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03.10.17: Due to a lack of their usage, we've removed the update boxes, and we will be returning to old style updates for the time being! We've also removed our Twitter button and our Facebook button as our Twitter and Facebook pages are rarely used.

02.10.17: STAFF SEARCH has been added! We're looking for up to 3 new staff members to prepare for the influx coming into Volume 5, so be prepared for that! We need all hands on deck to get a few systems going before the volume starts, as we'll be making some changes to combat abilities and combat apps, so stay tuned!

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 Aria's Annexes, Endless library of DUMB SHIT
Aria
 Posted: Oct 12 2017, 02:13 AM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


Cornelius Wintersong
Birthplace: Menagerie

Age: 20

Sex & Gender: Male

Race: Faunus

Affiliation: Beacon, First year.

Physical Details:

Cornelius is a bit of a short man, with dark grey long hair with a few brighter highlights, generally in a loose ponytail. His faunus trait happens to be a pair of odd-looking bird eyes. His race is no secret, but since they're easy enough features to conceal, avoiding the occasional remark about being an animal is worth the trouble of wearing a pair of sunglasses.
Personality:

Cornelius does not seem go out much. He is often outside, but always alone. Anyone would think him to be shy and antisocial at a glance, but a glance isn't enough to realize he's just terrible at breaking the ice, coming off as impolite and too straightforwards often times. The fact that he hates bothering to go out of his way to greet someone really doesn't help alleviate the image, either. Anyone who actually manages to strike up a conversation with the man would soon realize the only reason he's quiet is because he hasn't been given a simple hello. Generally in a good mood, an extremely hard to upset, Cornelius is a rather good fellow to rely upon, for combat, advice, or just help regarding anything in his scope of abilities.

History:

Born in Menagerie, within a family of hunters(Game hunters, not to be confused with Huntsmen,), Cornelius learned to hunt. Proficient in archery, he learned to hunt with a bow. Showing impressive accuracy and concentration at a young age, he was mentored by many wanting to see him excel an see where his potential would lead him. Soon enough, he was shadowing big game hunters and learning from them. Eventually, he grew a particular interest in overkill, and once his time came for a very special gift, he already knew what he wanted. Now with an unnecessarily large killing machine and the skills to accurately fire spears at extreme ranges, it was obviously time to learn from the best of the best: Huntsmen. Passing the theory exams with flying colors, but barely scraping by melee combat grades, he was finally ready to go through the trials of a hunter, to one day become the legend he was told was within his grasp. Only time will tell if they were right or wrong, but this was a path he could no longer abandon, and only death would stop him from finding it's destination. Though no mentor had trained him for the burning path ahead.
Player Details
OOC: Aria

Contact: Aria!#7193

Other Characters: [SOON]

Notes: I'd love to be assigned, please!

Sample Post:

Cornelius had searched high and low for a machining tool. There were none, Beacon's was always occupied, and not a single workshop in Vale seemed to have the common sense to provide even something so simple as a workbench. Having what was essentially a mobile artillery platform was fun and all, but he'd never have thought ammunition would be such a pain to obtain. Especially with how easy it is to simply throw away...
template by saska for use only on world of remnant. do not reuse without permission.
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Aria
 Posted: Oct 12 2017, 02:27 AM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


Cornelius Wintersong
Affiliation: Beacon, Second Year.

Character Page: Here

Weapon:

Ataraxia: An impractically massive, two meter tall longbow, anchored onto the ground by a large spike. It must be fired stationary, in an extremely wide stance, with proper support, and preferably anchored onto the ground. The tradeoff for sacrificing so much speed, mobility and practicality is the wonderful ability to outmatch just about any caliber of handheld firearm with nothing short of small javelins, which can also conveniently be used as melee weapons, for lack of a better one. The bow is equipped with an impressive instrument cluster, along with a reservoir on it's handle for dust-based arrow coatings, turning them into much more than "Just projectiles" if needed. Though it's operator tends not to be terribly fond of making them explode, as they're a bit of a pain to replace. To fire Ataraxia, one must first anchor it, any patch of ground will do, provided the wielder is strong enough to drive the spike into it. Then, a proper stance: One foot on the anchor's pedal for stability and the other firmly planted on the ground. The weapon now stable, it can be fired. A solid archer's glove will help alleviate some of the strain on the fingers holding what resembles more a cable than a string. For a proficient user, assuming a proper firing stance can be shaved down to a few seconds, cutting a lot of the problems setting up to fire, but none of the ones that persist whilst doing so. The weapon can be fired on the move, but is far more unwieldy, rapidly exhausting it's user from the strength required to fire the weapon unanchored. Thankfully, the bow does not have to be strung every use, and is instead folded and attached to the quiver.

Semblance:

Ignorance: The ability to ignore. Be it any of the senses, Cornelius can tune out anything to a point where it is no longer noticeable. It is a very simple ability, but the ability to achieve complete, serene focus on something, shutting out distractions as if they never existed, is not to be underestimated. As useful as it is, the things ignored still exist, and the tradeoff to peace of mind is exhaustion. "Ignoring" for long enough period of time, or doing so with enough distractions, become increasingly tiring, in a marathon sense. Recovering from the strains of focus requires more of a proper rest than a small meal and a pat on the back. Circumventing the semblance is also rather straightforwards. Should one's voice be ignored, he can simply wave his hand, should his hand be ignored, a pat on the back, et cetera.
template by saska for use only on world of remnant. do not reuse without permission.

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Aria
 Posted: Oct 12 2017, 04:11 AM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


Lilium
Birthplace: Vacuo

Age: 21

Sex & Gender: Female

Race: Human

Affiliation: Second Year, Shade.

Physical Details:

Lilium is tall, constantly frowning, an perpetually dirty looking. Even out of a shower, she'll look unkept.

Her short, messy auburn hair fails to hide the few, weak scars on her face, nor a piercing glare.

Personality:

Lilium is either smiling, or yelling, or both! Only one thing is absolute, she likely isn't calm. Calm isn't something she likes to be, and thanks to her semblance, it's also an extremely difficult state of mind to attain.

Emotions aside, Lilium is a loudmouthed, abrasive, angry and real rough aroun the edges, and that makes making good friends a bit harder than your average person, but that also makes the girl value the little she has more than anything in the world, but that's not what she'd lead anyone to believe, at least, not through words.

Being an adamant follower of the idea of an action being worth far more than a word, she finds people who flaunt themselves and their achievements to be a waste of space until they follow up on that. The same goes for any promise, or statement. Nobody should be asserting something they can't live up to.

History:

Lilium had a bit of a rough start. She was born in a middle class family in Vacuo, but nothing seemed right. As the years piled up, she was growing into more and more of a troublemaker, and slowly, it became clear she wasn't the most welcome in her own home.

At the age of sixteen, Lilium had become a true street kid. She would live for herself, scrounging up money, stealing food, getting in street fights over petty nonsense, getting arrested... Times were rough, but the girl held on.

Saving up turned out good, she managed to find an old bass guitar she could afford, and after much practice, and more savings, she'd be making money off music on the streets. At that point, a man, a huntsman, had found her. Her incredible resilience facing every odd against her, and his will to save people, led him to take her under his wing.

Years later, after much training, and much, much more time spent being straightened out... At least enough to function in society. Her adoptive father decided she was ready. They went out, built a weapon, and off she went to Shade.

The girl was in the coliseum enjoying combat... Probably a bit too enthusiastically when shit hit the fan, and if life taught her anything, is that she'll pull through.

Player Details
OOC: Aria

Contact: Discord etc

Other Characters:Cornelius Wintersong

Notes: Her semblance involves literally overflowing with emotion, specifically anger, but anything else can trigger it, provided it's intense enough. It's a passive semblance, so whenever it does happen, it'll show distinctly in narration. For example "A doorbell rang" versus "The doorbell ringing seemed more bothersome than it should be." Anyone may choose to act upon this as they wish.

Oh, also, random pairings.

Sample Post:

"My favorite song? Well... There's a bunch. But there's one I'll tell you about. See, this was back in the day I was really getting good with my old guitar, and I had the amp and all, things were going good! [laugh] Well, all's relative, isn't it...

Anyway! I'm standing in a nice shopping street, buskin', getting lien for a nice fuckin' bowl of soup, right. Then this other kid shows up, he just pulls out a harmonica, no words, not even a hello, he just stood there, and started playing with me, so I changed it up and we started playing together, it was fun, the kid looked pretty into it, too!

So, we're here, we're making a decent amount of coin and all, and then here comes kid number three, with a run down lookin' guitar, him, he sits there too, no words. Just plugs in the amp and off he goes. That's when it started gettin' real fuckin' magic, we're just three kids, never seen eachother, jammin' on the street, but then, two more kids come, one's there with a few buckets an a pair of drumsticks, he sits down, an' starts playing those, and that's when I really started finding this cool.

Now the last kid, man... So she looks at us like she's about to say something, and we're all playing a bit disjointed an' shit, right, but she kinda looks at us so we stop playing, but doesn't actually say anything. She just looks at us one by one, like a conductor, the drum kid went first, seems he knew what was going on, and we kinda all followed in his bucket noises... And then the girl started singin'.

She had the most beautiful voice, and not like... Pretty sounding or anything, it was all rough, just like everyone else, right, but it was so... Genuine. She started singin' 'bout us. 'Bout the street kids who never asked for none of it, just want to have a fuckin' bed, and people who care, y'know! She sang... And fuck, we made a ton of Lien!

When it was done, everyone was cryin'. We were all in tears, huggin' eachother, without any words. Then we just all packed up snifflin' like a bunch of toddlers, walked over to the noodle shop, and blew everything we had just made on noodles.

Never met those kids again... But that was my best song, never gonna forget that." .

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Aria
 Posted: Oct 12 2017, 05:08 AM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


Character Name
Affiliation: Beacon 2nd year

Character Page: Here

Weapon:

Distortion:

A heavily modified bass guitar, turned into a weapon. The neck, bridge and body's edges have all been heavily reinforced, melding wood and steel into a symbolic maul. The body also seems to be equipped with a hidden trigger mechanism, and a specialized magazine well.

The guitar's neck seems to have been fully rebuilt to survive as a handle, with only the battered fretboard still being made out of wood. This is in part due to the reason that the neck also happens to have the ability to open up slightly in order to complete the barrell of a caseless-ammunition mass accelerator(Which Lilium constantly calls a railgun "Because it sounds cooler!")

Somehow, after such heavy modifications, the instrument still functions as an instrument and manages to sound decent. It is carried in a regular, soft instrument case(With plenty of spare strings and an aux cord... Just in case.)

Semblance:

Feedback:

Lilium's semblance functions passively, and needn't be activated. Whenever she gets angry, or frustrated, or is filled with any other sort of negative emotion, the emotion "overflows" and starts influencing everyone around her, people involved in her grief feeling it to a much greater extent.

This is especially useful in combat, as she can induce recklessness and ignorance onto her enemies, while her combat style revolves around those very concepts.

Lilium's friends, on the other hand, may want to be especially weary of her battle high. Either fighting alongside, or providing support for her will mitigate her semblance's effects enough for them to be minor enough to simply calm down a bit and ignore them.

Of course, Feedback being always on, anything else can "Overflow". Joy, Sadness, jealousy... Anger just so happens to be the easiest to build up, and the state of mind she is most commonly in an intense enough state to trigger it.

template by saska for use only on world of remnant. do not reuse without permission.
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Aria
 Posted: Oct 19 2017, 02:55 PM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


[Something] Grayhound
Birthplace: Atlas

Age: 38

Sex & Gender: Male/Male

Race: Human

Affiliation: Atlas, Combt Teacher.

Physical Details:

Standing at six feet six, and as large as a freight train, saying he's intimidating is a bit of an understatement. With an army buzz-cut, a head full of scars an a pair cybernetic eyes, there isn't much to question his strength an endurence. The man is very often found roaming around the school wearing one of many jackets and longcoats, along with heavy combat boots, army pants, and a plain shirt.
Personality:

[NAME] Looks like he's been through hell and back several times over, and it becomes clear he's gone through a lot. He always looks composed, rumors say no student has ever angered him, and that the many who've tried got scared and chickened out early in.

Though he looks intimidating, he also seems content, and is always eager to help in any way he can. His many years of experience serves as a wealth of knowledge, having answers for any questions they can come up with, if it's in his realm of studies. As much as students ask, though, any question about himself gets answered with a sigh, a stare at the horizon, and a vague remark about the past.

History:

Born in Atlas, into a family of army folk, [NAME] was destined to end up a soldier, and that fate suited him well. He gladly went through his father's rough training as soon as he could, on his twelfth birthday. As the years went by, he obviously enrolled into Helios, taking it terribly seriously. Any shame brought to him would be shame brought to his name, and many, many push-ups would be had. Hardship of training wasn't so bad, in the end, though. [NAME] enjoyed it, striving to become an elite. An elite he would soon become. The years went by and the grades only went up. By his graduation from Atlas, every division would be trying to get him into their ranks. Obviously, having become more than a simple soldier, he became a heavy weapons specialist, bringing his gun along, and gaining a few more along the way, but that's when he realized there was more to the front lines he so deeply desired than fun and games.

Being so large, unstoppable, and, well, successful, [NAME] was assigned the more dangerous missions, initially, he'd protest that he was essentially going on suicide missions. Him and his ever-changing team of replaced members became known as the Dead Man's team, being sent there would mean going to the places nobody was willing to go, and giving up a great many things in the process.

[NAME] would last ten years leading the team, going through all kinds of hell: Losing people, losing objectives, losing both eyes... He somehow would that long without either signing into another division or losing his life. Alas, he was getting old, and that was no good in a special ops team. Once his intent to take a break was clear, there were no voice protesting. The Dead Man Walking had earned a good night's sleep and a change of pace.

After a year of getting used to living within society again, learning to stop looking so intimidating, to stop scaring old ladies and young kids, he'd apply to teach the next generations of kids how not to end up like many of his old friends, and once again, talking to a few old contacts and pulling a few strings, he'd end up right in Atlas, with his own curriculum.

His peace of mind unfortunately hadn't lasted as long as he had hoped: Disaster would strike as he was watching the vytal tournament, and almost immediately, the man had gone up and found ways to help, most notably getting a group together to calm down the ensuing chaos. Once the chaos over, his fight wouldn't end, as he would ready himself for a next move, should one happen. Later that year, though, his guard lowered, there was no sign of another threat looming, and there was a festival to celebrate, a festival that had earned him a glass of whiskey, happily watching the parties thrown on every block. Perhaps he'd find his students within them.

Player Details
OOC: This is your OOC (out-of-character) Aria

Contact: [Discord username]

Other Characters: Lilium Cerulean

Notes: Nothing

template by saska for use only on world of remnant. do not reuse without permission.
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Aria
 Posted: Oct 21 2017, 03:27 PM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


Alright fuck the template.

NAME: Urist McDressesWell

AFFILIATION: Probably Vale

SCHOOL: Probably Beacon, probably 3rd-4th year

AGE: Doesn't matter yet, 19-21 in between that

WEAPON: A really big, shotgun-shell handgun, and a large, regular shot handgun. He rarely if ever uses both at the same time, and just switches them out depending on engagement range.

SEMBLANCE: doesn't mater
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Aria
 Posted: Nov 5 2017, 02:28 AM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


Templates for drafts are a PAIN IN THE ASS SO FUCK EM

NAME: Silica Skyline
BIRTHPLACE: Mantle
AGE: 26
SEX&GENDER: hot girl

RACE: also hot girl

AFFILIATION: Independent

Physical Details: She is a bit taller for a lady, standing at 5'11'', with a slender shape to match. She always seems to look alert, with an air of caution and curiosity, a highly expressive face constantly showing surprise and intrigue behind those glasses.

Her outside wear will usually involve her slightly oversized old pilot's jacket she got from her father, jeans and a t-shirt underneath. Should the occasion be more formal, she tends to make up a coordinate for it, being rather fond of dressing nice, but is never seen in a dress, or even a skirt.



Personality: Silica is a mischievous, easygoing lass, letting the winds take her where they will. She enjoys sticking her nose in others' buisness to a dangerous extent, having gotten in trouble far more than once over it, but she also loves to feign ignorance and play dumb, toying with many folk. She is also well aware of her looks, and isn't afraid to use them to further her goals in messing with other people's things, or simply with other people, maybe sometimes get her way through it.

She may seem drenched in sin knowing her on a surface level, but Silica holds friends close, and family closest. Should they get hurt, anything would be less important than them. She is also her father's girl, and despite maintaining her appearance and being able to go just about anywhere else, she followed the family's footsteps.


History: Born in Mantle, Silica's early days were a rather simple time. Her household wasn't very high class, but they scraped by, and managed to make enough to feed the family and send the kids to school. The girl's father was a freight ship pilot for Schnee, and often left the household for many days. Consequently, Silica, being the elder of three kids, studied extra hard so she could help raise her brothers and work a good job. Sometimes, times would get rough, scarcely any food on the table, or heating problems... Many bumps got in the way, but the Skylines always managed to keep a smile.

Silica wasn't the most popular of students, looking scruffy and poor, she'd spend most of her childhood alone, but still studying hard and pulling through. She graduated to learn all this time, her father was saving up for greater education. Sacrificing so much of their day-to-day comfort for a brighter future. Unfortunately, university plans were cut short, her father was growing ill, and he'd be out of work in a matter of a few years.

Tired of working dead end, small time jobs and already having been wanting to be just like her dad in the first place, Silica put her foot down and decided she'd learn to pilot, and go work in freight. It was a quicker curriculum and would assure work, which was all that mattered, to the dismay of everyone else. "That's no woman work, you'll get yourself in danger!" among many other protests and arguments were had, but her resolve was set, and so she set out, thinking she'd be perpetuating the family's finances but at least saving her younger brothers from a terrible future. At nineteen, she embarked for pilot school.

Through her father's advice, and proper classes, Silica excelled in every course, quickly graduating into express delivery services, and soon enough working for Schnee. A 21 year old girl working with jaded old guys with a dead future being intimidating was definitely an understatement. She kept to herself mostly, started to carry weapons just in case things went bad, but as time went on, and she proved herself not to be some rich kid, some of them warmed up, and introduced her to the wonderful world of gambling...

It took three years of working so much she barely showed up to see the family and saving up the winning from the poker games she had gotten frighteningly good at to finally have quite the sum lying before her. With it, she docked an airship in Mantle, finishing a shipping job, and walked off, walked back home, never to go back to the dust company. With her savings, she went back home for a bit of a well earned vacation, and went out airship-shopping.

Now she was 25, owned an old, restored and upgraded little freight ship, and ran the Skyline Express shipping service mostly by herself, with her dad filing paperwork and managing finances back home. Her family was finally living comfortably with her help and all went well. What her family aren't aware of, however, is that Skyline Express' reputation runs along the lines of shipping just about anything for the right price. Under her smiling figure, and under her time in the Schnee dust company, she had learned about just how profitable smuggling could be, and she had also learned all the little tricks to not getting caught...

Her company ran well, and into a few scuffles with the authorities, but nothing a simple "Look, the manifest says it's legal goods!" and a jingle of Lien couldn't fix. That was until Beacon fell. That was a bit of a hit for buisness, she was allowed back in Mantle and spent some time off work with the family, with her younger brothers under a proper school, one of them in Helios, even. After the tragedy settled down, though, a festival was in the works, and for some reason, that truly did wonders for buisness...


COMBAT APP

SEMBLANCE: NONE

WEAPON: A SHITTY SIDEARM IN THE GLOVEBOX.

SHIP:
The STS Silvergun

An old, refurbished ship, retrofitted with a powerful modern engine. The ship is built extremely solid by modern standards, with scarce electronics aboard to help it. It's not as simple to fly as other ship, since there's a lot less automation, but it absolutely lives up to it's company's "Express" service, flying at well above average speeds for a cargo ship.

Hardly large enough to be called a Freighter, it can carry one or two shipping containers' worth of cargo, with weight to consider. The freight compartment of the ship is a simple, large, open space, with maintenance hatches and compartments scattered throughout. Connected to the cargo area through a sliding steel door is the pilot's cabin, divided in two floors. The main floor being the actual pilot's cabin, and above it, climbing through a hatch and a small ladder, is an attic-like living space large enough for one, maybe two people(If they're okay with being intimately cramped...). The "Living space" is a simple room with a storage compartment for basic survival gear(A bedroll, portable stove and pot, heated blanket, spare water and rations, etc...).

The ship, from the outside, has some clear wear and repaired damage, but most of it is hidden by fresh coat of blue and white, cloudy horizon paint scheme, with a vibrant "Skyline Express" across one side, and "Peregrine" across the other.
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Aria
 Posted: Nov 12 2017, 03:12 PM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


The First Archival

"Bold is a first line, as it is a title"
Who knew a simple centered line could be so easy to use? who knew such a thoughtless anagram would lead to so little of a ligfe, who knew? i don't knew, i simply observe, see, ea, tase, notice the many tiny little fractions of movement among the many libraries and archives deep within my soul, such as it is that when it disturbs, the very core of the abyss within shakes, and from it, fear.

+ tagname
+ notesit started from nothing
BY MITZI


GONNA COMPILE THESE
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Aria
 Posted: Nov 12 2017, 03:51 PM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


The Second Archival

1234
Out from within the infinite, a single steppe, with a single man. A single man with no past, or no future, no thoughts, no fears, no hunting. He notices the others, the many animals, the ones with pasts, but with doubtful tomorrows. He sees he lands wih an unending timeline, out-aging any who dare challenge it by simple virtue of unknowing. The man looks up to the sky, the clouds that come and go on a whim, delivering the very life and blood of the skies in their death and rebirth. The man then looks at his hands, and all he sees is entropy, and the undoing of all he sees.
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Aria
 Posted: Nov 12 2017, 03:53 PM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


THE THIRD
ARCHIVAL
The many men were hungry. They lusted for many things: Women, Knowledge, Wealth, Power. Many names to move aside, many coins to push around, many worlds to paint to their colors, many things to burn. Such was the life of the high up, such was the world a large primordial serpent would do, go to these lengths, go to gather these forces, go to destroy what is not in their image. As the gods weep seeing their creations fade away, the serpents laugh stepping on the bodies, and eating the remnants. Little did the serpents know, wit can outgrow power, desperation can outlift strength, and the darker a room becomes, the more light a simple spark will bring, and under the many corpses, under the many graves, under the very gods and under their very undoing, the small libraries, the land of the ones who still see, who still read, who let the world live it's course, wait for it to become naught but dust and one day return to it to rebuild until back under they must go. They are no heroes, they are not villains, they are the only ones who remain with eyes, with books, with knowledge. They are the librarians, endlessly assimilating and annexing the many timelines they are cursed to live and see.
@tagged || notes
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Aria
 Posted: Nov 12 2017, 04:24 PM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


user posted image
There are many ones.
The Fourth One.
There was once a lorem here, but he fell. There are many who do so, who fall, who give up, who walk away, who die trying. There are many who never try, most never try. Most look at the spire before them, the monolith staring down and telling them how arduous of a task is at hand. The many wish not to see for themselves, for there are happy down in the pits, they are content never seeing the clouds from up close, aspiring to perhaps one day go, but never truly doing it. Some are crazy, and they go, and the smartest, they know not to climb, even should they be capable. You see, once the monolith defeated, once above all, once enlightened with the wisdom of the spire, there is naught left but to jump down, and land on the very base, having everything before you defeated and pointless.

Spire is Sin.

notes

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Aria
 Posted: Nov 15 2017, 02:42 AM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


CHARACTER CONCEPT HANG ON TO YOUR SEATS THIS ONE IS BADASS:

Alright, so big bad tall guy, had an older brother that was super older than him, died by grimm on a mission in an academy or something fuck if i know. Anyway, gets compared to the family member that whole trope.

Now get this, so his brother was this big 'ol agility-type badass who'd teleport around and whatnot, and so this kid, being big and slow, and way more of a strength-kinda guy, decides fuck it, he'll brute force his way to surpassing his brother's legacy.

NOW THIS IS THE COOL PART RIGHT: So he trains like a madman, becomes some arnold schwarzenegger motherfucker, and decides to enroll in an academy with his old family hierloom: A CANNON. LIKE A WHOLE, PORTABLE CANNON. And not some howitzer modern thing, like, an old CANNON from the great war. He mods it so it fires modern ammunition, but he manages to use the damn thing in a fight, using it as the most badassest blunt weapon ever on top of having A FUCKING CANNON.

His semblance, since he has to wield this ENTIRE fucking CANNON, involves making aura-based ropes to link parts of himself together kinda like a suspension bridge. With the proper arrangements, he can also manage to do it to things he's holding. That way, he doesn't break his fingers making the suspension bridge links to the cannon, and so he can shoot it more than once without both arms going limp.

So yeah this guy is fucking enormous, like six foot six and six feet wide kinda enormous. And he just kind of thinks any problem is like a door. You don't need the keys if you can punch hard enough. Brute force is like the be all end all, and he gets dangerously obsessed when he has a goal. That's a dangerous combination, fun times all around.

Though it's not all bad, he gets results, kicks a lot of ass, and knows his limits, so at least there's that, aye.
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Aria
 Posted: Nov 15 2017, 02:45 AM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


just a weapon concept also: A really large shotgun with a big bladed hook at the end, so it's kind of like both a shotgun and a war pick but also a war pick with a blade on the pick. Could be pretty super cool.
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^
Aria
 Posted: Dec 21 2017, 03:06 PM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


NAME:
BIRTHPLACE: Mistral
AGE: Sophmore/Senior year age
OCCUPATION: Student, 3-4th year
SEX: MALE
AFFILIATION: The school

PHYSICAL DETAILS: [Name] treats his body like a temple, putting in far more effort than an average man taking care of his physical form. His skin is smooth and spotless, his face is without fault, his body is one of an athlete but it doesn't carry any brutish, excess musculature. At a glace, he would definitely seem above average, but it would take a more keen eye to realize he has been resolute in his training, following a strict regime without a moment's respite in what could easily be years.

His athletic build is hidden by expensive, colorful and decorated outfits. [Name]'s wardrobe ranges from baggy pants and open shirts to elaborate robes, gowns and kimono. Every piece of clothing the boy owns is likely worth a small fortune, most of which are clearly handcrafted by extremely skilled tailors (Who are all, conveniently, members of the family). His usual outfits are often paired with a sash, and always paired with excessive amounts of jewelry: bangles, pendants, rings, bracelets, anklets, earrings... You name it. To complete an already flashy choice of attire, the man has a large makeup box, pairing his visage's cosmetics with the day's coordinate.

Demeanor: He may be dangerously eccentric, and may look devastatingly judgmental, but he is not an egoist, merely an elitist. Despite the many masks and facades [name] puts up, inside resides a beating heart like any other, pushing him to do what it deems to be the right thing, be that saving a life, or providing advice to someone in need of it.

The image he spent so long becoming has melded with his inner self, becoming a perfectly natural facade hiding in plain sight. Every movement, word and gaze is intentional, measured to be as graceful as can be. Everything has to be perfect, or as close to perfect as can be. The pursuit of mastery is the path laid before him, after all.

Naturally, trying so hard to be so much brings with it some unpleasant behavior. [Name] loves to compare himself to others around him, quietly or not. He is also a terrible, terrible loser despite being so competitive. His heritage also brings with it the attitude of a noble, having been taught looking down upon inferiors is simply a natural behavior.

Story: Born into a large. aristocratic, heavily isolated family sitting on a small fortune built from the arts they spend their lives obsessing over, [guy] was raised from a very young age to value beauty and perfection, to hold himself to the highest of standards. He was taught the ways of a higher class citizen. How to carry himself, how to speak with wisdom, how to treat the common folk... Everything a "blue-blood" would need to put up good impressions in the rare event they would receive visitors, or in the even less common instances in which they were not the hosts.

The [FAMILY NAME] house tends to isolate itself from the rest of the populace, finding little time and worth in meeting others for formality's sake. The rare times the heads of the house would find themselves speaking to outsiders without going through a servant is with the most important of clients and business ventures. Anything else is taken care of by the housemaids.

This monastic lifestyle is driven by the family's obsession with perfecting their arts. Every member of the family chooses an art to master, and lives to perfect it, along with training a few more to proficiency instead. Perfection of beauty is what they all strive to achieve in their individual ways. Be it through the arts of a tailor, of a painter, of a dancer, of a musician, of anything deemed "Beautiful".

[NAME] would thus spend his first twelve years learning about the world around him, accompanying the housemaids into the city, learning the basics the family had to teach. Unfortunately for everyone involved, the boy was an adventurous child, and often escaped his keepers' sight in escapades around the city. Through these adventures, he would one day learn of combat, and he would learn to grow very fond of it. Despite repeatedly told it is barbaric to draw blood, [KID] found that it's crudeness was merely due to barbaric disregard of beauty, ignoring the magnificence behind the morbid dance of death.

On his thirteenth birthday, [kid] had not been convinced to quit this pursuit. He would demand they give him a chance to show them what the art of combat could truly become. His father, understanding the ideal of the household involving self expression and the hunt for beauty, reluctantly gave him a chance. He would train in the household until his time to journey would come. Once his journey over, he would show the household what it is he learned. If they deemed it crude and unsightly, he would be forced to either be disowned, or to quit his madness and learn a true craft.

The boy would then spend the hours under the sun training his body and mind. In the studio and out. He would go to town and learn of techniques and training regimes from the warriors who would accept giving the child advice. Then, his evenings were spent either meditating, or training one of his "lesser" arts to rest. This would go on every day for the next four years, physical training only refrained from if his body would refuse to move.

At seventeen, [kid] would enroll into Mistral's academy, knowing he could spend his time there under far more useful training, his every fault being exposed for him to fix. over his first two years, it became apparent the things he had been there to learn all along were far more than handling a weapon. He would learn about the world around him, things he was never told or shown for they were found to be "Unsightly" and thus not worth his gaze. He would learn about the many groups of individuals around him, and what they've been through to bring him here. Most importantly, he would learn of people, of teamwork, of social skills. Everyone had the potential to be beautiful, you just have to find it within them.

By the end of the second year, the tragedy of Beacon happened and that was the moment [KID] lost all of his new teachings. The idea of friends being so important, the idea of trusting people out of goodwill. Everything truly unrelated to his pursuit of perfection dwindled away looking at people killing people. People so gruesomely shedding blood for naught but petty hatred of one another. Coping with the loss of a good friend, and perhaps what could have been a lover, he went back home, training alone until the next semester.

By the end of his third year, [name] had become a fearsome fighter, but was severely lacking in teamwork and social ability. Something that wouldn't be helped by experiencing the Vytal festival's loud, binge-fueled festivities. Entering his fourth year, the teachings that still escaped him would all involve people. It was something he would have to pickup now more than anytime.
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^
Aria
 Posted: Dec 23 2017, 02:20 PM
Quote
Aria Member
ARIA
50
BP
Weapon
ONE NINE ONE ONE CALL AWAY FROM JAIL, KIDDO.
Semblance
MY CELLPHONE ALWAYS HAS NETWORK. I AM A WALKING TALKING CELLULAR TOWER. [i]I CAN ALWAYS CALL THE POLICE[/i]
Male
Aria!


Jade Mòshuǐ
Birthplace: Mistral

Age: 20

Sex & Gender: Male/Male

Race: Human

Affiliation: Haven, fourth year.

Physical Details:

Jade treats his body like a temple, putting in far more effort than an average man taking care of his physical form. His skin is smooth and spotless, his face is without fault, his body is one of an athlete but it doesn't carry any brutish, excess musculature. At a glace, he would definitely seem above average, but it would take a more keen eye to realize he has been resolute in his training, following a strict regime without a moment's respite in what could easily be years.

His athletic build is hidden by expensive, colorful and decorated outfits. Jade's wardrobe ranges from baggy pants and open shirts to elaborate robes, gowns and kimono. Every piece of clothing the boy owns is likely worth a small fortune, most of which are clearly handcrafted by extremely skilled tailors (Who are all, conveniently, members of the family). His usual outfits are often paired with a sash, and always paired with excessive amounts of jewelry: bangles, pendants, rings, bracelets, anklets, earrings... You name it. To complete an already flashy choice of attire, the man has a large makeup box, pairing his visage's cosmetics with the day's coordinate.

Personality:

He may be dangerously eccentric, and may look devastatingly judgmental, but he is not an egoist, merely an elitist. Despite the many masks and facades Jade puts up, inside resides a beating heart like any other, pushing him to do what it deems to be the right thing, be that saving a life, or providing advice to someone in need of it.

The image he spent so long becoming has melded with his inner self, becoming a perfectly natural facade hiding in plain sight. Every movement, word and gaze is intentional, measured to be as graceful as can be. Everything has to be perfect, or as close to perfect as can be. The pursuit of mastery is the path laid before him, after all.

Naturally, trying so hard to be so much brings with it some unpleasant behavior. Jade loves to compare himself to others around him, quietly or not. He is also a terrible, terrible loser despite being so competitive. His heritage also brings with it the attitude of a noble, having been taught looking down upon inferiors is simply a natural behavior.

History:

Born into a large. aristocratic, heavily isolated family sitting on a small fortune built from the arts they spend their lives obsessing over, Jade was raised from a very young age to value beauty and perfection, to hold himself to the highest of standards. He was taught the ways of a higher class citizen. How to carry himself, how to speak with wisdom, how to treat the common folk... Everything a "blue-blood" would need to put up good impressions in the rare event they would receive visitors, or in the even less common instances in which they were not the hosts.

The Mòshuǐ house tends to isolate itself from the rest of the populace, finding little time and worth in meeting others for formality's sake. The rare times the heads of the house would find themselves speaking to outsiders without going through a servant is with the most important of clients and business ventures. Anything else is taken care of by the housemaids. This monastic lifestyle is driven by the family's obsession with perfecting their arts. Every member of the family chooses an art to master, and lives to perfect it, along with training a few more to proficiency instead. Perfection of beauty is what they all strive to achieve in their individual ways. Be it through the arts of a tailor, of a painter, of a dancer, of a musician, of anything deemed "Beautiful".

Jade would thus spend his first twelve years learning about the world around him, accompanying the housemaids into the city, learning the basics the family had to teach. Unfortunately for everyone involved, the boy was an adventurous child, and often escaped his keepers' sight in escapades around the city. Through these adventures, he would one day learn of combat, and he would learn to grow very fond of it. Despite repeatedly told it is barbaric to draw blood, the child found that it's crudeness was merely due to barbaric disregard of beauty, ignoring the magnificence behind the morbid dance of death.

On his thirteenth birthday, Jade had not been convinced to quit this pursuit. He would demand they give him a chance to show them what the art of combat could truly become. His father, understanding the ideal of the household involving self expression and the hunt for beauty, reluctantly gave him a chance. He would train in the household until his time to journey would come. Once his journey over, he would show the household what it is he learned. If they deemed it crude and unsightly, he would be forced to either be disowned, or to quit his madness and learn a true craft.

The boy would then spend the hours under the sun training his body and mind. In the studio and out. He would go to town and learn of techniques and training regimes from the warriors who would accept giving the child advice. Then, his evenings were spent either meditating, or training one of his "lesser" arts to rest. This would go on every day for the next four years, physical training only refrained from if his body would refuse to move.

At seventeen, he would enroll into Mistral's academy, knowing he could spend his time there under far more useful training, his every fault being exposed for him to fix. over his first two years, it became apparent the things he had been there to learn all along were far more than handling a weapon. He would learn about the world around him, things he was never told or shown for they were found to be "Unsightly" and thus not worth his gaze. He would learn about the many groups of individuals around him, and what they've been through to bring him here. Most importantly, he would learn of people, of teamwork, of social skills. Everyone had the potential to be beautiful, you just have to find it within them.

By the end of the second year, the tragedy of Beacon happened and that was the moment Jade lost all of his new teachings. The idea of friends being so important, the idea of trusting people out of goodwill. Everything truly unrelated to his pursuit of perfection dwindled away looking at people killing people. People so gruesomely shedding blood for naught but petty hatred of one another. Coping with the loss of a good friend, and perhaps what could have been a lover, he went back home, training alone until the next semester.

By the end of his third year, Jade had become a fearsome fighter, but was severely lacking in teamwork and social ability. Something that wouldn't be helped by experiencing the Vytal festival's loud, binge-fueled festivities. Entering his fourth year, the teachings that still escaped him would all involve people. It was something he would have to pickup now more than anytime.

Player Details
OOC: Aria

Contact: How would you like to be contacted? You may list any IM aliases you use here (or just the programs you use)!

Other Characters: Lilium Cerulean, Klif Greyhound, Silica Skyline.

Notes:

template by saska for use only on world of remnant. do not reuse without permission.
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