Noir

Happy birthday, and I wish of many prosperous years to come.

Well, DR 3 lovers, love this or not, this is happening: https://myanimelist.net/news/47959619

Your team has the offensive pressure to check/deter it from coming in and revenge kill it, but your team practically is begging for something to die if Specs Keldeo gets a free switch in. Given your team composition's moves, your team also has it hard pressed to deal with Nasty Plot Thundurus. Mega Diancie also steamrolls like most of your team with Clefable and Mega Metagross being the only checks, and you can chip off some damage with Loom if you want-- while not as common in the current metagame (you probably won't see it but through personal experience these things exist) I find Calm Mind Mega Diancie more dangerous than the all out attacker simply because it can break through Clefable. Amoongus is the first thing that comes to mind if you want to check all these things well in one slot, snce you can't use Mega Venusaur with MegaGross as your Mega. Alternatively you could run Latias as your Defogger since it counters Keldeo and to a lesser extent Thundurus. (Latios is also fine but less bulk means Thundy can break it after SR).

https://myanimelist.net/news/47946966 Top fucking kek, live action Jojo

Sephtis “Nay, good sir.” He answered, “Five days – six, perhaps, I know not precisely – alone walking in the snow.” The velleity of the refugees here waned as their hope diminished. The healers around the Bisharp and the rest of the society all wore mixes of despondency, disenchantment, and woebegone even as they carried out their individual tasks, all wearing a mask of lament and forlorn over the situation. It made the atmosphere increasingly difficult for Sephtis to find it appropriate to continue the conversation; every stage needed its finest composite elements to facilitate the best settings, be it from music, lighting and dress, but it was perhaps a necessarily evil in this case. Attempting to brush off the twinge of dissatisfaction that nibbled his mind, his attentions turned to the Bisharp once again. “I stem from an older origin,” Sephtis had to be admit that his voice was surprisingly varicund for his original tendencies – it was rare that he enjoyed and yearned for conversation such as this, but he tried to keep his introduction discreet and simple. “That of the farther grounds tainted by the corruption. Less a warrior I am in comparison to the many soldiers here – and that of you yourself – but the bitter truth of the outside world is not veiled from these aged eyes, nor a many feud I had found myself spared against them. Outside the people have bruited of this place – a case to triumph I have tried to endure, even during such frigid season -- and that of the final spark of light in the hell out there I have sought to pursue, much like many others before me.” The Banette ran a clawed finger over his halved visard, before turning again to the Bisharp’s tattered vestiary markings. His hunch had been correct, even if what remained of the cloth would’ve proven trivial in determining that otherwise. “Heretofore I had traveled for the sake of the very grounds all of us now take refuge in, after the ruination of things….” A ruthful voice escaped the zip-like mouth as he continued, “Yet so different it is from what the outside world has come to say – perhaps a final respite for the vecordious. You sit high amongst these warriors, yes? What do you know of this tragedy?"

Oh, Happy Birthday. I know we don't talk a lot (if at all) but I do appreciate you helping me patiently answering my questions back when I had issues loading Reborn on a Mac. May your birthday this year and that of the subsequent ones be happy and prosperous to come.

Baixue “I see. And to that we have all gathered here to hone our abilities and fight as one – birds of a feather flock together, as they say.” People were in danger, wherever that place was – and Baixue, in her own idiosyncratic way, much like the seventeen others now with her, was special. She had a gift, and gifts needed to be shared. The many tales of the Aqui had guided her, and bestowed Baixue her pair of wings to be used for the right purposes. She wondered if she had made the right decision then to avoid volunteering then; an ardent and inquisitive girl as she was, she couldn’t help but linger in the hesitation she initially had when Tempus had asked for volunteers, and the relief that followed once the required total of six had been chosen. She attempted to cram some sort of reasoning into her head to justify it; perhaps some mountains were simply too hazardous to climb at her current state, or the simple fact that her gentle, tranquil days in the tundra, contrasting with the others hailing from the same lands – the peace and love of her tribe things that of sentiments she considered a luxury – had conditioned her to avoid dispute and strife unless the situation demanded it. She enjoyed a challenge -- a challenge that promised learning and that of others could learn from -- and training as it was and with reassurance for safety, and for whatever reason she had stopped and decided against it then, she wasn't fond starting her first flight with a battle. It mattered not in the end; late it was for her to have second thoughts on the matter, and an eagle observed its prey before it swooped to predate it. She would have to make do and would be content with observation, the current circumstances adding to her neutral stance an excitement in her heart of what these individuals were to show her.

Baixue Baixue’s expression after hearing of the news of the two mysterious figures explicating their purposes here and the hazards that followed took one moment of flinching surprise before she sobered herself, humming and nodded noncommittally. They were to fight? Baixue’s ways in the snow had, for the most part, been tranquil, with the only form of violence being the times where she had to scavenge and hunt with her tribesmen for food during famines. She was also a believer that fighting and destruction was not a form of effective learning – strife and bloodshed would result in little but loss and consequence, but combat ability, on the other hand, was a necessary skill everyone would need, especially given the context elaborated to her by the people that seemed to be her future trainers. Regardless, any window of opportunity to improve herself she would eagerly take. In spite of the current circumstances, Baixue was to acquaint and group up with new, unfamiliar, alien people here – a sentiment she knew she would enjoy, hoping everyone else would be as open as her – as well as the ability to develop their lumen, to find information of the great Aqui who she believed existed out there. All this was to be promised later, though; paying minimal heed to the details of the people around her acquiescing and volunteering to fight, she decided to begin her first words amidst the group with a question: "What of the war, good sir? With respect that we certainly do need ready ourselves to fight, what's going on out there?"

Baixue Boarding and travelling atop a plane – that of a first experience for Baixue. She didn’t know what stood out over the other; the heavy disappointment that she wasn’t allowed to fly on her own alongside the plane to their destination, instead confined to the seemingly comfortable accommodation within the aircraft, that served naught but a cage to the girl who hailed from the harsh lands of the tundra. At the same time, it was the first time she was to be carried on something so technological, so modern, and any chance she would get to learn was bound to bring excitement to her. It was much more likely that she was more annoyed, though, having spent most of her time silently sulking after examining the inner constructs of the plane before quickly getting bored. She needed not such complex furnishings to enjoy the gift of flight, even if the rest weren’t as privileged. Her inability to enjoy the voyage on her own, the feel of the wind across her skin, that unrivaled euphoria of freedom, had vastly irritated her; the window beside her was the only inkling and view to the sky now separated from her, where her hawk-like perception had estimated that such an altitude was higher than that of her usual capabilities. However, she had been denied her first sunrise, having a rather awkward view of the sun – so even then she had eventually decided against enjoying the view outside the window as a respite. Every new experience she garnered, however, had only served to remind her more that the world, after being shut off from her for sixteen years, was but vast, unpredictable, and wondrous, more than she’d imagined; while she was confident that she’d fly faster, she knew such heights were, at her current limit, impossible for her to surmount. Close to the ground, the sparrow flied faster than the falcon; close to the sky, the wren soared higher. The plane had come to a halt, and after experiencing a series of uneven rises and falls of the plane throughout her journey (she had to cross her arms across her chest to avoid certain discomfort), she withdrew her belongings, all tucked cozily in the sack given to her by her tribal family before her departure – one look of it had given her a moment of brief, nostalgic remembrance of home, warmth even in the harshest blizzards – as she briskly hurried herself to the hatch, where many others had arrived before her. She felt the rush of excitement upon witnessing all these people of varying descents and origins, all too illustrative for her to decide which to notice or know first. All she knew then, was that the tapping of her right foot was not to cease any time soon, the fervency and eagerness within her growing ever stronger by the minute.

Trusting you comes with a price You like to play honest and nice As you act upon pretended virtue Whenever it works out for you You crave power, wallow in pride Turn cold when you are denied You don't care whom to discard To be held in high regard You will strike from behind Planting lies in another mind Nurturing an ever rising doubt Eating one from the inside out After causing this toxic torment You'll curl up smug and content While you watch things fall apart Without remorse inside your heart Don't think you will succeed They'll want to see you bleed By all means fuel the hate You will only seal your fate You'll learn you'll never belong And everyone rather sees you gone One day things will turn around And you will be hunted down

Not to be rude and all, but can I just point out that the link to my character submission links to my subsequent post a few posts after the real thing instead of the submission itself?

Oh, good. Without impediment. Also, forgive me for being a bit presumptuous by saying this, and you might already have planned to do so already, but seeing the first accepted character put in the OP personally feels a bit unorganized to me. I trust the extra post is to be used for character sheets?

I would've posted this earlier, to be honest, but after realizing how similar my initial design was in to Stratos in terms of aesthetic, I had to make some major modifications. Do tell me of things I need to fix, for I wasn't in the most cogitatious mood doing it. Anyways, here goes.

Okay, first elephant in the room: Fixed. Jokes aside, in terms of species, I'm looking at two reptiles, nine mammals, and an aquatic mammal that, by no means should be able to live on land, and which, by circumstance is most idiosyncratic from the rest. The Zodiac-esque concept is very intriguing and interesting, but I'd like to see more -- particularly on the strengths they are bestowed from these respective species. How will the division/distribution of roles be decided? It's evident that you want one from each respective Lumen and species, but it'll inevitably come to a point where people might be interested in the same faction. Anyways, I'm definitely going to be in this.

Debronee No longer did his sword, his symbol of strength, stay wielded within his fingers; nor did Debronee feel the same furor and power that once surged through his limbs, that of which gave him life, that of which made him feel strong and worthy. As his mech slowly faded and revealed the exterior behind that burning mask, he gritted his teeth in annoyance of the sudden interference of the being in white as his eyes scanned the arena. He remembered himself about to confront with Wallace, the bundle of wind nearing his way when....someone had interfered. He'd paid little heed to the brief moment of events following that. All he knew was that his mech was gone, only a stone in his hand, instead of a blade and shining armor. We were to fight, only for it to stop all of a sudden? He thought. Did someone decide to spare either the twins, Tesla, or that squishy insect out of pity when he was well within his reach to crush him already? But it wasn’t just him – Harituuli's, Victoria’s, even that of that frail little insect that everyone’s mechs had been disabled. What the hell. It came to pass that the fighting had been stopped, albeit momentarily; what came subsequently, Harituuli was now crying as she held Victoria in a touching, loving embrace; Victoria, much like Tesla before her to the twins, had spared her from a finishing attack, leaving Debronee in a mix of scorn and abhorrence of the deja vu. Wallace and Tesla subsequently entered something of a feud as their respective guardians went at each other’s mouths each with threats toward the other. Between the bestial girl's sobs to the exchange of shouts and screams between David and Wallace's parents, the arena was no longer a venue for blood, glory and battle, but a serving of split emotions of their own individuality. Things that should have had no place here. Friendship? Love? Protection and standing up towards those who care for one another? The display of emotions presented itself before Debronee like a spider in a salad, every voice irritating him, every gesture contemptuous to his being. Sentiments and mush yet again….disgust and contempt plagued his every thought, every bone in his body, every ounce of what remained of his consciousness after that fight. The mix of disappointment of being unable to do anything within this match along with the disdainful events that occurred before him left him with no words to describe his mix of disdain and anger, burning with a blaze that could almost dwarf the fire that currently burned on Wallace's exterior. Debronee tossed the stone in his hand in his irritation and grunted exasperatedly, before disinterestedly walking back to his own Enclave. (OOC: Oh dear god I'm so tired so please spare this if this is badly written, business + work is killing me)

I'm just going to leave something I've found a bit challenging to reading experience right here, so relevant or not, take it with a grain of salt. Color selection when trying to highlight a character needs to be more appropriate, and darker colors (like the purple you chose for Sephtis, Stratos, and most of Huk's long conversation between various characters) generally need to be avoided as the contrast between the black background and these colors make it difficult and displeasing to the eye to read. Nothing against your most recent post, Huk, it's just the formatting in this aspect really needs a fix. It's great that you're making it easy for readers when you specify colors for characters, but really, do work on color selection....I also understand that we have a limited palette on the matter, but my point stands.

Sephtis and the Bisharp Streaks of bruises and cuts marred the once elegant and shining visage of the Sword Blade Pokemon’s exterior. A mephitic odor wafted through Sephtis’ nose as he entered another section of unfamiliar vicinities; the scent of blood and ichor, stronger than the hell he once been through where his town, his friends, his parents and trainers – all alone there. Even amongst the sentient, redivivus audience of survivors, the miasmic atmosphere coated his lips with a discomforting acerbic that seemed to never fade even with his lips’ attempts to quell it with saliva. Unconsciously swallowing, he sighed at the scene depicted before him, the resolve to search for answers yet to fade, yet to be plagued by disgust. Sephtis' eyes had yet to divert away from the Bisharp, whose attentions scanned through the wounded, the phlegmatic pair of eyes carrying the intensity of a Luxray’s. An exchange of their glances lasted not but a second before the Bisharp turned away, but the Banette’s golden eyes suddenly fixated themselves on the tattered cloak that remained on the Dark-type’s shoulder. An air of power, an intensity of ranking and command, with what was left of the unrecognizable piece of cloth, mutilated with the vermilion that was blood, be it of his own or that of the countless foes he had confronted. Maybe, a sliver of a chance, that this one knew something, and he had nothing to lose, if not for a few seconds or minutes, by asking him. But would he be willing to give answers in this already ridden atmosphere? His next step resulted in a crunching sound, distracting his thoughts. The single flower bestowed itself upon him before the ground, thankfully, and not significantly, damaged by his careless footing. He crouched downward as his eyes conscientiously and absorbedly examined the yellow blossom, eyes now intrigued, hopeful, and somewhat sympathetic of the flower's existence on these grounds. Someone, perhaps, in his or her negligence and nonchalance, and had previously possessed it, had failed to realize this one sole flower littered upon the ground. And even now, amidst the frigid, bitter walls of the enclave, not but a soul had been wary enough to notice, perhaps too occupied or distressed with what was the consequence and feedback of the war and strife that would only continue to plague their lives out there. Whatever origins the flower may had hailed from, be it alone, be it with a bouquet of its own kind or others before it separated from its former owner or group, it only remained on the ground, the once vivid color besmirched with a mix of snow and dust, the gift of life clinging desperately onto the vessel, barely emanating from the flora. Such a beautiful object even if tarnished by the toils of war, cold and soot, was a priceless treasure for Sephtis, for him who had nothing but a mask, his tongue, and his cogitatious desires. It was section of land in an abundance of sea, a candlelight, however small, in the infinite dark. But he had not earned it yet. Perhaps, even if he was the first to notice the fragile piece of art now under the gentle grace of his clawed fingers, as they wiped away the filth that vitiated the flower’s freshness and beauty. And whatever purpose the flower would be destined to serve decided by the higher power of Arceus, Sephtis knew that the flora in his hands was better deserving in the hands of another – even if he would cherish it more than anyone else – and his eyes turned again to the very meritorious being, who had yet to give a returning glance. Sephtis walked towards the abandoned crate that the Bisharp was seated upon, and, as with any other newfound acquaintance or person, gave for the umpteenth time a small, greeting bow. “Must’ve had it hard, valiant knight.” Gently, Sephtis placed the flower upon the crate the Bisharp was sitting on, tartly beside him. A mundane offering as it would have been, he couldn’t help but manage a smile at the satisfaction of the gesture. It didn't matter if the Bisharp would appreciate it or not, and he would at least start a conversation lightheartedly, knowing that a direct questioning in the current circumstances without only prove derogatory and insensitive. "I know it's been rough out there, but you've endeavored however able. To that, the people here thank you." ((OOC: Discussed this with you earlier, Strat, so I hope you're comfortable with someone accidentally dropping a random flower as a result of barter.))

Every junior becomes a senior eventually; everyone has the chance to be both and the bullying rumor is nothing more than bias/bad rumor spreading unless its actually something that's passed down through previous seniors. Seniors are more often than not bound by responsibility and treating your juniors the way they should by educating them is important unless they disrespect you. Even if they do, try to be understanding and get their attention -- some people are better and more influential seniors in their high school lives because they know how to get along with people. Anyways, making the best out of your senior year can also come from achievement. It can be done in many ways; you can lead a society and do a good job, get some gold medals and make a name in your school/make your school proud, get some awards, etc. And of course, if you're dreaming big for the future, make sure your grades are up for the task, as well. Don't take it too seriously (parents here are terrible in that regard) but don't neglect it altogether either. Ultimately take incentive in wherever place you are able if you want your senior year to be great for you.

Septhis The horrors that belied out there – a miracle in itself it was, for Sephtis to had survived alone out there, fending against the creatures that plagued the outside world, away from the safe haven guarded by these walls. Fortunate to be taught how, fortunate to go without sleep – Insomnia was more of a blessing as such, than a curse – and fortunate to have had a second chance in life, all under the guise of an actor, not a fighter. To succumb to the shadowy forces plaguing the world or to fade as a mere voice amidst the cacophony of wails departed somewhither unknown in the seemingly eternal battle against them, as only the lucky and strong survived. These were all fighters and warriors far stronger than he, and nonetheless, they had withered. They had lamented. Septhis hadn't come close to the true strength behind what was out there, apparently. Even as a ghost, even as an agent of the night. Was it all truly an asinine, fruitless task to pursue? The state of the audience was an impediment, but it as much provided him with the ultimate first play – the befallen spirits of the people needed to be uplifted. A flower yet emarcid could still be nurtured. Everything he committed to erewhile would not lead to disappointment. “Gramercy,” He bowed once more to the guard, the disgusted look still plastered upon his snout. “Know, however, that this place is lucky enough. Standing guard nor being tucked safely within doesn’t exactly paint the most vivid picture of the eldritch strife behind these walls.” His words released themselves from the zip-like-mouth with utmost contempt, before his hands clasped together. “Alas, an orison to the valiant fallen and departed.” They’ve endeavored as they must. Bitter and ungrateful towards the slightest respite you have here, asinine drought in a raining desert, all of you. Know what it means to go out and fight. To sacrifice and to see what the ugliness of the world has in store for whomever daring to brave its fronts. Not looking back, the errabund Banette turned his attentions to the thoughts within his mind as he decided his next venue – to speak of the matter and hear it through the horse’s mouth. Be it the General or someone else erudite of the science here, he would find him or her, and attain more.