OOC: All roleplay taking place in this location should be posted in this thread.

So should I just state what my purpose is?

(OOC: remember to put ooc in front of your out of character talk)

OOC: You can write some stuff about your character landing from the plane. If you don't have a destination or goal in mind by the time you finish writing, just tell me and I'll introduce something cool for you to react to.

"That was a short 1 hour 45 minute flight" I say heading out of Terminal 1 into Queens New York.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 14:19, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

As you would be heading out of the terminal gates and into the bustling city of New York, you're ears catch onto the sound of a muffled noise coming from the bathroom stalls

It sounds like it's coming from a man, an older one at that. It's unmistakably grunting, and it sounds like he is pain. Just then, you hear cursing coming from a younger man in the same room, and the slamming of a toilet seat covering up a piercing scream. Nobody else has noticed this.
This message was last updated by the GM at 23:34, Fri 27 Sept 2019.

I run in and shout "STOP RIGHT THERE!"
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:20, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

As the door bursts open you see an old man laying on his side on the ground, with the side of his bloody and cracked.

A man stands above him looking you in the eyes. You know he is a stand user because his stand is standing next to him, brushing its hands together. The stand is one third blue, one third green and one third red, all in vertical stripes down it's body.

The man says to you with contempt, "Bugger off you fool, what I do is none of your kinds business" he says, perhaps being racist or treating you poorly because he doesn't know you have a stand. Maybe even both.

I activate my stand and begin to fight him.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:21, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

(Since you didn't specify any attack to attempt, I'll just assume you take a fighting stance)

The man blinks twice and looks at you quizzically, "Oh. Is this a friend of yours? Sorry, he's not on the Off List... Sorry about that", the man says, half-heartedly.

He attempts to leave the room.

I then help the man up and ask what happened.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:22, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

The man looks at you fearfully and begins to ask something, "A-are you n-not with him? I th-thought all you people with your... p-powers... weren't real... but i heard if you are... you want to take the city..." he whimpers meekly, "P-please bring me to a d-doctor... I dont wanna die like this"
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 14:22, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

We walk to the nearest doctor.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:22, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

Since there are no doctors in the airport, Neito has to ask someone to call an ambulance.

Fifteen minutes later, the man is being taken care of by paramedics on his way to the hospital and he left your life just like that.

You did a good thing, and you probably feel satisfied... But, something is nagging at you... there's something going on in this city.

I look around the Airport looking for clues as I think about who those 2 men were.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:24, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

You can't find any information on why the stand user was here, you assume he came here without any plans to fly. He wasn't carrying anything, and didn't take anything when he left.

The other man, however, was booking a flight that would have taken place thirty minutes from when he was assaulted. You find his luggage, which the paramedics didn't think to take with him, and he only packed necessities, and very hastily.

It seems he was fleeing from something, perhaps the stand user who caught him and beat him up.

I take the luggage with me find a hotel and sleep.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:25, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

(please refrain from posts describing multiple hours in just one sentence)

You steal the man's luggage while nobody is looking, perhaps to get some clues, or maybe just to be mean.

Later, you check into the first hotel you see for the night, and they take a ridiculous amount of money from your person (either from a credit card if you have one or the cash u have on hand) and you spend the rest of the evening in the hotel watching city news before going to sleep. As you drift off, you hear the newscaster talk about something that seems like a clue to the mystery bothering you, but you are too tired and you doze off for the rest of the night.

(how is Neito paying for this trip? New York is expensive, especially for a student..?)

Neito looks for a job that will further the investigation. Neito walks up to the first building he sees that is hiring for 16 year olds.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:23, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

Although this is perhaps the worst method ever derived of discovering clues about a guy who beat up an older guy, Neito decides to get a job for the summer.

After walking for an hour and a half, Neito comes across a Starbucks café that is hiring high school students if they bring their resumé to the front desk and ask to be interviewed.

enters
*slaps resume on desk*
I heard you were hiring I say.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:25, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

(why would you have your resumé on you? Please think about these things in the future)

Neito, who had made plans to fly to and enjoy summer in new york city, had only saved enough money for a flight to, and a flight back from. His main plan to make enough money to survive in the biggest of cities was to get some work experience while he was on vacation.

(Please write up a resume in your next post that is realistic and fits your character)
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:25, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

Name: Nasanieru Arekisandā Fōsaisu-orr or Neito
age:16
any past job experience:Single-handedly managed the successful upgrade and deployment of new environmental illumination system with zero cost overruns and zero safety incidents.

(oooh, that's interesting. Also, needs some explaining, but not urgently.)

The woman at the counter takes your resumé and asks you to wait a moment. She heads over to the back really quick since there are customers just parking in the parking lot now, and she returns a few moments later.

"Okay, well, if you'd like to sit down at one of the tables feel free, my manager has a lot of resumes to read through."

The woman hadn't read the single accomplishment listed on the resume, but Neito was confident the manager would.

Neito sits around for 20 minutes before a woman and her toddler, dressed in clothing clearly taken from a goodwill bin walk in, and ordered bagels, before returning 2 dollars short on the total.

The woman approaches you nervously and sheepishly asks if she could have the necessary dollar to buy her child a bagel, because he hasn't eaten since school came out.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:25, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

I say yes and hand her 2 dollars
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:25, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

She bows her head graciously, because you gave her the money the desk lady asked for from her not the money she asked for from you, that's extra wholesome.

They walk out of the store to eat outside while the kid begins babbling about his father, "When is daddy coming home? I want to see Ring of Fire again!" the mother hurredly shushes her son as if keeping a secret. This rings to you as perhaps a clue, but it might be awkward to approach this.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:25, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

I walk to a table and sit thinking about what to do next.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:26, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

The woman and her son begin to leave the store, walking down the road by foot. Soon, you won't be able to track them.

Just then, the manager steps out of his office and asks to see you...

Now, you have a crucial choice to make: Do you take the job that probably won't lead anywhere, or do you stalk some people because it almost certainly has some information at the end of it.

Clock's a-tickin'
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:26, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

I take the job thinking about how i will need money for the investigation.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:26, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

Deciding to take the interview with the man so you can make some money that you plan to spend on investigating the situation in this city, you head into the man's office.

After you've both sit down, he turns the resumé over to you so you can read it upside-right, and asks you, "Son, you only have one thing listed on here. It's not something common like volunteer hours, work experience at another chain, or school extra-curricular involvement... Explain to me the story behind this"

(Please right a detailed story a couple paragraphs long at the very least about your installing of 'new environmental illimination'. Try and tell me something about your character at the same time.)

I noticed the illumination system was repeatedly using and not using electricity to produce light so I took it out and got a singular new one. I then proceeded to install the new system without wasting electricity by using a small amount of manual force on a button. I then proceeded  to put the new one in and turned the electricity back on.
And I speak 3 languages.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:26, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

'That's... interesting...' the man said, clearly perplexed by what Neito was describing, "Well son, I don't know how... useful... that is here, but half the people who show up here dont return my calls, so, do ya know how to run a register and can you learn to make coffee?"
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:27, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

Yes I can operate the money exchange machine and bean crushing and water mixing device I say with intelligence.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 14:27, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

'wait a minute....' the man is starting to catch on now that you're using the thesaurus on his line of work... he shrugs it off and tells you that you can start tomorrow.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:27, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

I go to nearest food place and decide to eat there.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:27, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

Well, besides the starbucks you are in, the nearest place is a subway. You order a sub and eat it.

You really don't have the money to be spending on fast food and expensive hotels. You need to find a cheaper place to spend the night, and should start buying from a grocery store.

It's half past noon now, and you don't have any clues to lead you forward.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:27, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

I look in central park for clues as to why so many people are afraid and teammates.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:27, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

After arriving in central park, you realize it's a very large place and you'll need to narrow down your search to somewhere more specific.

Perhaps the best way to find out why people are scared is to ask them directly, but that could also be incredibly naive. Maybe a more subtle conversation would work.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:27, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

OOC: is there a stage
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:28, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

(I don't know why there would be, but I'll make something up)

Neito wanders across a stage performer singing a song and playing guitar while his cute dog sits with him. His guitar's open guitar case is sitting there collecting bills while people sit down for a while in the fold-open chairs.

The man is playing on a slightly elevated makeshift stage. He has made 400 dollars today when you count the money up quick. If you want to buy it off of him it would take some convincing.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:28, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

I challenge him to a sing-off
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:28, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

(I'm going to edit the thread because I forgot to move us when you left the airport)

(I'll post the results of your challenge in 1 sec)
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:28, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

The man looks at you awkwardly and says, "You know any folk music? Because that's all these calm men and ladies wanna hear".
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:28, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

I say yes and start singing the national anthem.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:29, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

Neito, for some reason, thinks he can out-sing a man who has made hundreds of dollars in tips in under a day. He begins to sing the national anthem. It's a warming gesture, but it's nothing spectacular.

The man nods sympathetically in rythym with Neito, and then pulls out his guitar when Neito finishes.

"Oh say can you see" he begins, but something is different... the anthem he is singing is a remixed version of the normal one, and is incredibly pleasing to the ears. He sings with such passion, he might as well be George Washington himself, once he finished people applaud and he gets another 100 dollars in bills. He bows his head and thanks you for coming on stage tonight.

He goes back to playing guitar. Something is odd about that guitar.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:29, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

I think to myself that it is a stand and when the performance is done I decide to greet him and say that I am in a choir group. OOC:(true fact)
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:29, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

(good for you, lol)

"Well, if you keep practicing, you'll get there" he says, and begins to pack up.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:29, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

I ask if I can stay at his place. I show him my balance explaining why.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:29, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

"That's a pretty odd question to ask a stranger, are you alright in the head lad?" he asks,
shuffling uncomfortably. "I never say no to someone in need, but if you got parents, you should be askin them for this kind a stuff." he tells Neito.

"I spose ya could, but its not somethin people do no more. If you're in real need, I can give you a hand" he says, fishing in his guitar case for the money the people placed in there, he hands you 500 dollars, "there ya go, i got enough to get by, so i'll be fine. Just don't waste it, okay?"

he begins to leave
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:29, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

OOC:Are there any houses near the starbucks I work at?
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:30, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

(it's a commercial section, so not really, but there is a not-so-nice neighbor just a few kilometers down the road. I'm worried what youre planning)
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:30, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

OOC: I need Somewhere to stay and form a team of heroes
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:30, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

(you can look around or look up total pigsties of hotels, because that's all you can afford. I dunno why you chose this route, or why you thought we could maintain realism when a high schooler is living in nyc for 2 months. I hate the idea of making you work a job, but I'm kind of loss with how to keep you off the streets.)
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:30, Sat 28 Sept 2019.

I find a house and purchase it and clean it up.
OOC: Can we Fast Forward a week?

OOC: This storyline should just become its own anime.

(I don't think you understand how money works... or at least are not considering it. Also, you have to stop with posts like that one. It's one sentence that described days (at the least) of effort. We can fast forward if we need to, but you can't do things like that. You also ignored what I said about not having money)

(I don't know what you mean by making it it's own anime? If you're referring to the Story so Far, I'm doing it in manga format, which is pretty similar (a couple chapters generally make an episode))

(I'm going to try something, that I hope doesn't upset you, I'm gonna do some work on this thread and try and show you how posts should be written, and what should and shouldn't be posted here)

(Okay Neito, I hate to have to tell you this, but you're roleplaying has a problem. I don't know how to summarize it quickly. here's what's wrong: First of all, they are way too short, I've told you that but you keep writing 1-2 sentence posts. From now on, I'm going to consider that shitposting and I'll have to ban it from the game. Even if you aren't confident in your own writing skills, your posts have to be longer than they are now. That doesn't mean inflating them with extra language, it means writing about things in more detail, and not getting ahead of yourself. Players aren't aloud to skip time, only GMs can do that. You should also be more mindful of what you write, and how it affects the future of the game, as well as if your decisions not only make sense for being possible, but if it's something your character would do.)

(There has been no indication that Neito wants to start a team of heroes, that's something you decided you wanted to do, which would be fine normally, but it's not because you aren't taking time to write out why Neito wants that.)

(I want you to try to do these things better. I've never had to call someone out for something like this before, and I don't know how to do it. Gently, is what I'm aiming for. If you'd like, I can edit some of your newer in character posts to give you an idea of how to write interesting and realistic roleplay.)

Neito walks around New York looking for a house to stay in for the time being. Neito has decided he wants to rid the world of all evil and needs some people to help him. So Neito decides to look around the Empire state building due to it being a large tourist attraction he could probaly find more clues a house and friends.

As there is no way to know if people would let a random teen from out of the state live with them for a season, and asking them would be beyond socially awkward , Neito wanders around new york searching for an abandoned home to squat in and potentially refurbish, realizing that he doesn't know what's going on in the city, but deems it to be evil.

Neito eventually wanders into the slummiest part of town where he finds a rundown building with boarded up windows and it's an utter wreck. It might be useful to set up camp here as even though it's not in a nice neighbourhood, it's located within a few blocks of many important buildings that may aid him on his quest to understand and purify the city.

Before he leaves for the empire state building, it might be wise to take a look at the inside of the place, and see why it's been abandoned and if anything is left inside.

I walk inside to investigate  whilst preparing for the worst.

Going inside you immediately notice a putrid smell in their air, which you quickly identify by scouting the corners of the room as rat droppings.

The interior of the building is incredibly dusty, a good sign that nobody has been here in a long time, at least fourth months by the looks of it. If  you check, the cash register has already been cleaned, and the first aid kit has been torn off the wall. Someone even looted a hidden stash of painkillers in a panel behind the lightswitch that no longer functions.

Perhaps you could fix that, this place probably could still be serviced electricity simply because it's on the grid.

This place seems to be an abandoned magazine store that was crushed under the weight of a difficult economy.

You see there is a basement with it's light off, and the stairs creaky and caked in  layers of dust and odd prints that you don't recognize, and can tell don't quite look like the mice that left these droppings.

I follow them into the  basement as I try to put together what they could be. I bring my stuff with me.

As you follow the odd footprints into the basement you begin to feel uneasy as a scent slowly creeps into your nostrils...

Suddenly, you physically recoil as you take a step down the stairs, as a rancid, acidic smell assaults you. Your senses are overloaded in that moment, and you fail to realize the uneasiness was caused by a vibration of almost nonexistent chitters.

You feel a whiff of air by your feet and your a chill goes down your spine as your shoulders... lighten up?

I continue and I whisper to myself "I gotta get to the bottom of this." I then laugh a little "literally" due to the unfunny joke.

Powering through the smell (at the risk of throwing up) is the choice you decide to make, hellbent on scouting out your future base-of-heroes.

Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, the smell is incredibly stronger than it was even the step before, and the step before that. Down here it's no longer the stench that bothers, you, it's the acidity of the air, you realize a little too late the smell isnt bothering you because the interior of your nose has been chemically burned. It will heal, but you are definitely going to develop a sinus cold, and if you don't treat it, perhaps an infection.

You need to conserve breath or else your lungs will get microscopic particles of acid in them too, which is dangerous.

You arrive at the bottom of the stairs, feeling lighter than when you started taking the stairs (literally, not figuratively). Your sense of smell is no longer overpowering your other senses, and it dawns on you suddenly that you can hear chittering coming from every corner around you but it doesn't sound like a rat's call... not quite

I plug my nose and ask who is there before plugging my mouth and sitting on a step to conserve oxygen.

Neito, taking the proper precautions to avoid unnecessary damage, asks whoever is down here whom they are.

However in response, there are no words. Just louder chittering, as if excited, not scared... Definitely not the voice of a rat... in fact, listening to it now... it resembles the kind of sounds insectoid aliens make in horror movies, the chittering is coming from mandibles, not a rat's vocal system.

For a moment, Neito thought he heard a croak... which would have confused him more, if he had had time to be confused.

Instantly, Neito is attacked from four directions by fist-sized creatures he cannot see but is inherently scared of. They must have snuck up on him in the dark, being soundless in their movements.

By the time he would be able to defend himself, a half dozen bites from sharpened mandibles are felt across his body, two on his right leg's thigh, one on his left hip, one on his lower back, one just missing the tendon on the right side of his neck and one more drawing blood from his scalp after landing on top of him...

I quickly summon All-star to help free me.

(You may make an attack on four of the rats of your choice. Please write detailed descriptions of what you want to attempt to do to each target, it could matter deeply)

I incenirate all four by sending the stars North east south and west.

The stars speak in their chiming little language as they hurl themselves in the direction your mind aimed for.0

You manage to take out t he two biting at your thigh with your eastern-pointing star, the one eating your left hip with the western star and the one at your back with the southern one. The northern one looks around aimlessly after he doesnt hit anything.

The one on your hand didn't see what was going on and is chewing a bald spot into your hair and leaving a stain of blood to dry there. The one at your neck goes for a fatal chomp on your tendon before realizing what the others already have.

The entire room has gone silent, and all the little cretins you still havent seen have gone silent and backed away from u... Then you begin to hear whimpering and distressed, sharp, piercing noises that might make you pity these awful things...

They are scared of you, because you have a stand. This could be a clue. You should find a light.

I look around for one and decide to talk to these things to see if they are intelligent.

Stumbling across the nearest wall, the one on the same side as the stairs, you find a light switch and turn it on. Before you can attempt to talk to these things, they begin to screech in agony, and you here sizzling. As your eyes adjust, you learn that theirs haven't, and aren't starting to. You see them at that moment, rat heads, limbs and tails stitched onto frog bodies. They have mandibles, doll-like eyes that belong to no species and a throat sac for croaking. Their front legs are like rats but with human-like hands and their back legs are frog legs except their back feet are identical to their front, both furry and human-like.

You see that as soon as you turned on the light, their eyes began to burn out and sizzle like grease on a pan. You must either turn off the light or risk killing them when their eyes melt into their brains, which you assume they have, since their heads are that of rats.

I quickly shut off the light and ask them why they hurt me.
if they try to attack me again I keep the light on.

They respond to you, just not in a language you can understand...

Their chittering is frightened, almost pleading...

Just then, from one of the corners, one of them stumbles up to you, surrounded by the corpses of three females, in some sort of crude and twisted mating ritual, making sense for beings of such horror.

Then, the pest begins to speak english... almost

'Pain... hunger... ' he chitters, the sounds he makes utterly assimilar to human mouth noises, but just barely understandable. "We... hurt... by evil..." he said, clearly not knowing many words.

He begins to hiss, 'one like you..... did this....' he says, before screeching from rage, not violently, just with utter sadness.

They all join in, a chorus of terrible screaming sounds of pure wistfulness.

I take them upstairs with me after telling them that it will be okay.

(You probably cannot carry them all, assuming you don't stuff them in your pockets or backpack liek a jerk, and you just carry them in your arms you can probably carry three or four, since they are slightly bigger than new york rats)

They reject you at first, but they have no will to fight you.

They are clearly in great discomfort being held by you, but eventually they settle down, but are clearly unhappy.

As you begin to enter the light they hiss in pain, clearly unable to deal with the brightness. They burrow their faces into your chest, which would be almost cute, if it weren't so horrifying.

I set them down and close the windows as I try to fix them by shear happiness and charisma.

They no longer understand the meaning of joy, so they are just confused. You do manage to get across that they shouldn't be unhappy, but they don't know what to feel instead, so they just become confused, which is a bit of a negative for them.

They chitter, "Why... take... us? Where... we go?"

I say that no one should suffer and that once you build a tolerance for light you can come with me.

they mutter among themselves about your oddness, kind of ironic considering what they are...

they basically don't make any sudden movements besides the occasional hacking cough of phlegm or shrill as they take a painful shit full of blood.

(How long do you wait?)

until they are immune or close enough to immune from most light.

after a couple hours, nobody's moved.

Then, slowly but surely, one of the younger ones you took picks himself up with a cry and pokes his head up a little bit. He makes a pained sound but manages to keep his head up for a few moments without his eyes beginning to sizzle, they do water, his tears slightly tinted lime.

He puts his head back down and gags.

They all shuffle for a bit before one says, 'Leave... we.... languish' they say, clearly not knowing the word for stay, but meaning that anyway.... They only know words related to their pain.

If you stay any longer, you might catch something, in fact, you are beginning to realize the poop dust you've been breathing in is unhealthy, and you should leave soon.

You somehow convinced them to wait for you, that's a big enough achievement for one day. If you want to help them, you need to be patient (and also give them some space)

I walk out and decide to start heading to a shower.

You come across a public shower which charges two dollars for a minute of hot water and one dollar for two minutes of unheated water. Left with a decision to take a bone-chilling cold shower or the quickest hot shower of your life. Since you only have four dollars left in your pocket.

This lack of money is not only because you are broke, but because your backpack was stolen by the rats before you tamed them... hence, why your shoulders lightened up, which you payed no mind to.

You will have to go back for your stuff, eventually.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:29, Thu 03 Oct 2019.

Awareness slowly filtered back as Uladzislau woke up in woefully unfamiliar surroundings. Hard ground, something stank, and street noise in great abundance. Blearily, he opened his eyes, head turning to boggle in confusion at the dumpster he had been sleeping against. Uhhhh. What was I drinking? he thought in his native Russian tongue before he caught a glimpse of his arm. It took a few more looks and most of a minute for the odd, fire engine red color of his skin to really sink in. Wide-eyed, the remainder of sleep fled his mind as he took in what he was wearing, an open front vest and shorts made of some dark, thick fur, with bound fur boots. And that same insane shade of red everywhere that his skin was bare.

He had to still be asleep and dreaming, he decided. This was much too weird to be real, even if it felt like he'd just woken up.

Denying the truth that he was awake, and had been physically transformed by yesterday's events and the ring now on his finger, he pulled himself up on his feet and staggered out of his awkward sleeping spot to peer around in confusion.

The dumpster was empty except for another homeless person who was also passed out. Except this guy wasn't on booze, he had a thin line of white underneath his nose and his veins were popping and off-colored.

The place stank because they were next to a sushi shop running an 'Out-Of-Business' sale for 80% off, and the dumpster was filled with tons of rotten fish.

Spoiled fish, blech. Odd, that he couldn't read the signs, but the pictures looked like Japanese food. Rotten fish wasn't a good sign around Japanese places, though, awake or in a dream, he thought. They were usually so careful about cleanliness and avoiding impropriety.

He got an eyeful of himself in the reflections in the glass. What the...? This dream is insane! I'm not a Viking! Well, if I'm one in this dream, might as well act like one. Hehehe. That could be fun.

Prowling around the building, he peered at the parking lot and turned to head back to where he woke up. It didn't look like anyone else was in a costume, which figured. Dreams often didn't make sense.

Looking around the dumpster again, he found the other guy, and winced. Those veins didn't look healthy at all. Reaching out one huge (in comparison to what was normal for him) hand, he slapped the passed out man a few times trying to wake him up.

The man muttered under his breath angrily, but not fully conscious. His head was throbbing more and more. Almost to the point where it should have burst, the coloration of his puffed up veins and tendons changing to an dark, crimson red.

The man stirred and snapped his teeth, seemingly in a nightmare. Dreamception, per sé.

Hmm.

He gave the man a few more slaps, blissfully unaware of his strength as he did so, and snarled at him like he thought a barbaric Viking might do.

Suddenly the man's eyes opened wide, fully lucid, "STOP!" he roared, in a not quite human voice.

The man's pupils dilated with fear, then a cruel and feral smirk came across his unshaved face, exposing his rotten, yellow teeth and putrid breath that reeked of cheap booze. The man's nose began to bleed, and he sniffed, hard.

"Y-ya got red skin? Were ya sent after me? Did Jan send ya? FROM HELL?" he roared, before pulling out a large knife and spitting at the man's feet, "I'll kill you before you get the chance!" he screamed, launching forward with his weapon aimed at the red-skinned dreamer's throat.

Who is Jan? The thought distracted him even as he jumped back, and he was too slow to completely avoid the knife hitting his shoulder. Red light spat from the ring, and music started to radiate from it, the first chords of the song Blood Red Sandman carried on the crimson light.

He screamed insanely, "I won't go down! I won't go down!" he yelled, his eye twitching spasmodically.

He lunged again, but tripped when he stepped on his sock, which was hanging off his hairy foot full of toes with either no nail, or ones that were crispy and gunky. The stench as the sock came off was almost as bad as the rotten fish.

He landed on the ground and the knife cut off his thumb. The druggie screamed as his blood splattered around, "Jan! You bastard! Why are you after me! Stop following meeeeeeee" he roared in fear, before he started struggling to get up. At this point, his veins were bulging and about the width of fingers, covering his entire bust.

Stunned that the knife hadn't cut him, Uladzislau stared at the blood when the man accidentally cut himself. There was something fascinating and enthralling about it.

The red-skinned barbarian lunged himself, this time, a tightly closed fist aimed at the stump where the blood was spurting from, the knuckle of the thumb-that-had-been.

"Who Jan is?" he asked aloud in English with a strong accent, having recognized the language the man was ranting in. Vaguely, he remembered that he'd come to America for some reason, but why was still hidden behind the fog of the (apparent) dream.

"You know Jan??" the man demanded quizzically, clearly still to high to keep memories of what he was saying as he said it... "That bastard's after me! I know it... God, I don't know why! Who even is heeee??" the man begged to nobody.

The fist landed on the thumb, causing a punch that would have broken the bone, to instead grow back the bone, the muscle and the skin of the thumb. Everything except the thumbnail was brought back, because the man had pulled out as soon as his lagged-out brain had caught up...

"Woah... I swear I lost my thumb... man, I must be high. I gotta quit this stuff" he said, a rare moment of clarity, before his veins twitched as if preventing him from keeping composure, and he began to rant again, swinging the knife wildly around in a non-violent, but totally dangerous way as he spoke.

In reply to Froggychum (msg # 99):

"Not knowing Jan. Who Jan is? You mentioning," he responded, astonished by what had happened to the thumb. But the fascination of blood was gone, and he wanted it back. Fists pounded as a flurry of amateur blows flew at the man's chest, arms, chin, and shoulders. The normally kind and pacifistic Uladzislau was letting the barbarian role in his 'dream' take over far more than he'd ever imagine doing in real life, and was trying to beat the crap out of the druggie seeking blood, something unthinkable to him when he was himself.

The attacks weren't doing damage, and in fact, were seeming to, at least partially, cure the man of his intoxication. However, any blows that landed on the areas where hie veins protruded unlike a human, the attacks did severe damage, as if they were being struck by someone with, well, large hands. The man finally snapped out of his trance-like state and screamed at Uladzislau to quit it immediately, before he called the police.

He didn't seem to be able to feel the huge bleeding wounds where his abnormal veins had been splattered... but... then again... they had already begun to heal, as black tendrils stitched themselves back together.

"Blood..." the barbarian said, ogling at the bleeding wounds.

The ring blazed up, not merely spitting red light this time, but shining with a crimson light filling the immediate area. Filling it with both light and quiet background song.

They called me the Leather Apron
They called me the Smiling Jack
They prayed to the Heavens above
That I would never ever come back

Can you hear how the children weep?
Chills of fear like a sawblade cutting deep

Once again there is pain
I bring flames - I bring cold
I'm the Blood Red Sandman coming home
On this unholy night I will make you my own
Blood Red Sandman
Coming home again

Red drops stain satin so white
The way I sign my name
The neighborhood's pretty dead at night
And I'm the one to blame

Scream all you want you won't wake up when you scream
No-one leaves The Monsterican Dream


Uladzislau felt his gorge rising, thinking it was the horrible stink surrounding them, but he barfed on his own hands and what came up was like a firehose of blood. Blood burning with the unholy light of his ring. Blood that congealed in reflexively grasping fingers, forming a huge, sword-shaped scab.

And the scab transmuted before his unbelieving eyes into a gleaming metal blade with a black stone hilt. A magic broadsword in his grasp, and he somehow knew that it was named Woundhealer.

The man looked at the blade that had appeared in the hand of the impossibly-colored man and he began to enter a panicked state, clearly in disbelief with everything that has happened, "Wha-what the hell is going on?" he cried pitifully, he began to back up... and his veins... they seemed to hiss... they feared the blade, for a reason he didn't understand.

Then, the veins expanded further, and the ones on his forehead fell over his eyes and he realized what was happening to his body.... He began to scream, nearby people took notice and looked over... A hysteria would soon form...

Those veins... more than just vessels for blood, it seemed. Veins didn't hiss like snakes.
Snarling a guttural, poorly chosen attempt at a Cossack battle-cry, Uladzislau lunged at the man, slicing wildly with Woundhealer trying to cut the monstrous veins and free the (dream?) person entangled in them.

The song of the ring grew triumphantly as he went after the veins.

The veins snarled horribly as they were chopped open. Then, suddenly, the veins returned to a normal state, and all the horrifying features formed into a single shadowy wind with a wicked, inhuman smile. The man didn't turn his head, clearly oblivious to this being. As soon as it was there, it was gone.

Though the unholy entity had left the man, it had left a good portion of his upper nervous system hanging out, however, Uladzislau noticed, as he finished the arc of the blade through the man's body, his body patched itself back together. Clearly, this blade couldn't harm him, and rather, healed him.

Several more snarling, barbaric slashes of the magic sword went at the man, trying to finish (healing) him. Inwardly, Uladzislau was dumbfounded. What a crazy dream! Something possessing someone's blood vessels, in a dumpster behind a maybe-Japanese restaurant. It was insanity!

Once the attacks fully healed the man, he stood up shakily. "This... was all a drug dream... wight?" he asked meekly, clearly not wanting to hear a 'No'.

He began to walk away and thanked him awkwardly.

The barbarian growled, his ring's light starting to sputter and fade along with the music.

"Will forget thumb?" he called after the man, pointing out the severed digit on the ground nearby.

'Never happened!' the man yelled, holding on to his fragile idea of reality.

So yes, will forget thumb.

The red-skinned Viking shrugged, and looked for a scabbard to put his sword in. He had none. Nor was there any blood on Woundhealer. Dreams. Go figure.

Bare blade still in one hand, he started away from the reeking dumpster towards the parking lot, the street, and hopefully fresh air, pointedly and consciously trying to ignore hysterical people staring at him but not doing very well at it.

What else is around besides the sushi place? Anyone else who stands out or gets in his face?

There are some more restaurants around, all more high-end then the japanese place. They tower over that building and are much better kept. The ones not immediately next to that stinking building have much higher traffic then those placed next to it...

Nobody is getting in your way, but lots of people who were freaking out before, now think you are a cosplayer and so are asking for pictures..

A beautiful woman comes up to you to ask for a picture.

Ahhhhh. Things smelled much better out here. He still couldn't read anything to do more than guess what cuisines were being served where, but the improvement in the smells was worth not being able to read, he felt. God, that place had had a putrid dumpster... how anyone could sleep there was a miracle in itself. Of course, dreams didn't need to make sense.

Uladzislau was quite happy to oblige with the request to be photographed with such a lovely lady, posing to meet her request(s).

The woman snapped the button on her camera's phone, taking the picture... Then, she surprised him.

"Spasibo" she said, thanking him in his native tongue. She smiled and walked off.

Although he couldn't seem to read, as that's how it often is in dreams, he did get an indication of where he was when he looked over the roofs of the buildings and could just make out the Statue of Liberty in the distance.

He was in New York City, baby! What a dream!

Oh! The famous Statue of Liberty? So that was where this dream was set, New York City, the gigantic American metropolis. Wait... he'd come to America, and arrived in New York City, hadn't he? Bits of memory of the plane flight across the Atlantic, and before that being in Edinburgh changing planes surfaced. But why had he been going to the United States? He couldn't remember that yet.

No matter. The hulking red barbarian that he was in his 'dream' sauntered down the sidewalk, seeing the sights and smelling the smells, hearing chatter and music alike as people went about their ways. With no goal in mind, he just explored, maybe seeking barbaric misadventure and misunderstanding in this civilized land.

A cheeky American squirrel chattered at him from atop a parked car's hood, wanting a handout of food that he didn't have to give. He snarled theatrically at it, and watched the bushy tail bolt away for safety.

(Just tell me when you want an encounter, 'til then we'll do some general roleplaying)

The man who believed he was dreaming, and everyone else thought was a really good cosplayer wandered through the streets, nobody was freaking out anymore, having it in their heads now that it was just make up and lots of protein shakes that made him this way. Everything else was a prop or lighting effects, if they couldn't explain it.

However, his blissful trip was cut short when he felt something odd, something you don't usually feel when dreaming.. He got hungry and his stomach growled... That's odd...

Focusing on it, it was definitely hunger... Not something else... Perhaps this was usual for lucid dreams, being aware that you're dreaming for sure is... but real sensations?

Could he feel pain? Would it even hurt him... How odd... Then, again, he could eat whatever he wanted and not gain weight, because it was all just a dream... yeah...

Food. The first thing that came to mind was a nice tureen of borscht and some krupenik, but he had no idea where in dream-New York to even start looking for Eastern European foods. Did he have any money with him? He checked his fur costume, but found neither money nor wallet. Nor his passport and visa, but you didn't normally need those in dreams.

Well, he could get even more into character and raid some place? However, while acting like a barbarian was fun, his morals still got in the way where stealing from shops came to mind. For now.

Swiping fruit from a tree hanging over a wall, though... he had no qualms with.


OOC: Feel free to drop an encounter on me anytime you wish.

(understood. I'll brew up some ideas :D)

This was a considerably nicer part of town, but there still wasn't much in terms of outdoor vegetation... However, he got lucky- or perhaps his subconscious kicked in- and he came across a french-style café with two grape-vines growing on a special piece of wood left out for display.

They grapes from the former bush were some of the sweetest grapes he had ever tasted, and the ones from the latter were so sour it made him squeal and hurt his glands.

Inside, they were selling fine liquor, if he had any interest. As well as baked goods and french onion soup which they were famous for.

Ummmmm, grapes. The barbarian tasted both vines, grimacing at the extreme sourness of the unripe grapes of the second one. He smelled fresh baked bread, and a complex oniony scent in the air.

The first vine had ripe fruit ready to eat, so it was the one he went after, shoving a bunch of grapes into his mouth and masticating it without pulling the bunch off of the vine, like he was some animal. After finishing the bunch, he did try to pluck it off to keep from contaminating grapes still on the plant for others, though. Only to see the stems healing before his eyes.

Unsure of what that meant in the dream, he sauntered up to the window of the café and peered in through it, shielding his eyes with one hand to get a better look.

The place was fairly packed, but had a very calm attitude and a No Noise policy, so everything was hushed and relaxed. People enjoyed their morning coffees, and others were having an early lunch.

It was almost serene.

Foods and drinks. People enjoying themselves quietly. Somehow, the arm and hand with his ring on it felt offended by the serenity, while the rest of him mostly approved of it. His stomach grumbled again.

Against his better judgement, had he been awake, Uladzislau opened the door and went inside, Woundhealer resting lightly against one shoulder in his other hand. There was bread in here, definitely.

People saw the guy walk in and started muttering to one another about how good that cosplay looked.

The woman saw him approaching and asked if he'd like anything to eat or drink. She complimented his get-up.

A man watched suspiciously from a table in the corner of the room... he was... somewhat familiar

That fellow in the corner looked familiar, somehow.

Uladzislau thanked the hostess for the compliment, though he didn't realize that he spoke in Dutch doing it (though his accent was unchanged). He indicated the corner table where the sort-of familiar man was, with a finger, then headed towards him if not told not to. The ring glinted malevolently under the lights.

The woman looked at him funny when he spoke in Dutch, but didn't say anything. New York was more or less a global city, so there was no surprise that some people would prefer to speak in languages other than English. The woman responded with "Graag Gedaan" after flipping through a few pages of her International Server's Book, clearly taking her minimum wage job with utmost seriousness.

Nobody in the restaurant prevented Uladzislau from approaching the man, but when the man noticed you were coming, his eyes opened wide and he began to hurriedly finish his coffee, before stepping out of his chair to leave.

Another waiter caught him doing so, and having not paid his check yet, the man called out to the man attempting to flee from you.

He tries to run past you.

Blood Red Sandman's free hand (the one not holding Woundhealer; the one with the ring on its' finger) reached out to grab the man before he could get past.

Red light spat off the ring, and a few chords of his namesake song radiated with the sparks.

"Left too soon?" the barbarian asked in guttural English.

The man's fear overtook him, and without moving his mouth, he yelled out a name, just like a ventriloquist:

"「Rain Song」!", and with that utterance, a ghostly figure appeared behind him. It's chest was a slowly-swirling vortex of gorgeous cyan liquid, and it's limbs were floral-patterned umbrellas, it's head was a unblemished silver teapot that reflected every iota of the room back into Uladzislau's eyes.

The man spat out his hot coffee, and the stand mimicked the spitting motion. A volume of coffee greater than that which had been drunk sprayed into the barbarian's face and upper chest, burning him as hard as heated oil would have. The wounds themselves bubbled and blistered, and the skin in the surrounding area melted... The light spray had gone nearly as deep as his muscular tissue, and if he hadn't closed his eyes out of reflex, he would have been permanently blinded.

The worst part, however, was that the pain felt entirely real... It was so painful that it would have woken him up from the deepest slumber, he could feel his face sizzling and the molten skin lazily drooping down his face and onto his upper lips, searing them and leaving sores.

The man would try to escape the barbarian's grasp.

The worst part was that the pain was... delicious. Horrible and ghastly as it hurt, it also seemed to whet a hunger he hadn't known he had.

The ring burned brilliantly, the crimson light feeding on the barbarian's agony. Words spoke themselves in Uladzislau's head, but he couldn't hear them through the pain, the horror, the shock. This was the worst nightmare he'd ever had!

His hand holding onto the man tightened as if trying to crush the bones, and his sword hand convulsed, bringing Woundhealer off of his shoulder through his own head and into an arc through the air heedless of who or what it struck.

He bellowed in pain from what the coffee had done, and started to go berserk.

The man clawed at the red-skinned monster's arm as the sword came striking down, but he flinched in his last moment, tears welling up in his terrified eyes. Then, the sword passed through him harmlessly, much to the discontent of the blood-crazed barbarian.

The people in the café saw the commotion and when they saw with their own eyes the supernatural blade, and the real burns on the man's face, hysteria insued, and the restaurant was emptied in seconds.

"Wh-what the helll... " the man sobbed, before gathering an iota of courage and begging for his life, "M-man, please stop.. you gotta calm down... I-i understand... what's happening to you... P-please do-dont!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:36, Sat 05 Oct 2019.

Bestial snarls and bellows were all that answered the man's plea, and the sword swung again and again through him harmlessly. Madness filled Uladzislau's eyes, the blood madness of the barbarian he had become.

But it was not something that he could sustain for long, and when sanity snapped back he sat down hard where he was, letting go of both man and sword. Gasping, fatigued, utterly confused, and for the first time today aware that he was not dreaming. Which was much worse than thinking that he was.

The man shook for a moment, and groped himself to make sure he wasn't hurt.

Then, he sat down next to the man instead of fleeing.

"I'm sorry this is happening to you." he said, "I don't know how you got this power.... but it's got something to do with an organization in this city" he informed Uladzislau.

"You can't get involved with them. They... rule this place, and they're evil" he told him.

"You're a stand user now. Your stand isn't like something I've seen before... but, from what I can tell, it's probably a Bound or Automatic Stand... It's either something you can't physically touch... or an item with a stand bound to it..." he said.

"After this scene, there'll be people after us. We need to flee. Come with me, I know how to avoid these people... I've been doing it for three years" he said. "My name is Miguel Martinez" he said. "But I haven't used that name since they found out about me" he said, offering the man his hand.

Uladzislau blinked a few times, trying to understand what Miguel meant. Stand? Like a pedestal for a statue? It didn't make sense, but that was a pretty good description of everything since he awoke by the dumpster.

Miguel's name meant nothing to him, beyond being Spanish. Why he seemed vaguely familiar still eluded his befogged barbarian mind.

Somewhat unsteadily, Uladzislau accepted the proffered hand and struggled back to his booted feet.

"My name is Uladzislau Stankevich," he introduced himself quietly as he retrieved Woundhealer from the floor. While quite uncertain of what was going on, and wary after those burns, for the moment he was accepting Miguel's suggestion to flee and would go with him.

The man nodded, and began to hurry his pace.

Then, it came back to Uladzislau where he knew Miguel from... When he was healing / beating up that druggie who was possessed, one of the panicked faces was Miguels... In fact, his face had the same panicked look for the entire time he had been watching Uladzislau. The expression was a tripartite fear: Fear for his life, safety and sanity, fear for Uladzislau and one other thing which now was recognizable as fear of the organization that plagued this city.

As they left, he didn't give instructions on where they were going, he just said that they had to leave the area. He also offered to fix the man's burns later, if he didn't have the energy to do it himself.

Thoughts churning and stumbling over each other, Uladzislau followed Miguel. The offer to get healed up was appreciated; he didn't know if Woundhealer or his fists needed some kind of energy to work or not. He tried lightly punching himself in the forehead, flinching at the expectation of pain but hopeful that this weird ability would work on him like it did on others.

Such complete insanity his life had turned into, and he still could not remember why he was in America.

I buy 4 minutes of heated water.

(2 dollars per hour and having 4 dollars equals 2 minutes of heated water)

After taking an incredibly quick shower, Neito stepped out. However, the last towel on the rack he had planned to use was nowhere to be seen, the only clothes of his that had been left were his pants, and no underwear...

How embarrassing! He wondered who had done this...

Then, he saw a man at the exit of the building waving over at him, with his clothes draped over one shoulder, and the last towel on the other. He smiled mischievously. It seemed to be a boy no older than 12. He stuck his tongue out and ran off.

(This is for you uladzislau)

After the man had taken camera-less back alleys all the way to the run-down Italian part of town, full of not-quite-standardized houses, basic little shops with few customers, markets selling home-cooked food and abandoned buildings with kids playing ball in the parking lots, Miguel stopped by one abandoned building with no kids playing nearby.

He knocked on the door, even though the place appeared to be empty.

After a few moments, a man approached and recited a simple phrase that he had probably asked many times before, "Password?". "Rain Song" he said. The man shuffled a bit through a pad of papers and then unlocked the door. It was a small foyer with doors closing off to the rest of the place.

"Oh, you brought someone? Miguelllll... you better not be trying anything" he said. "Does this man have a secret he wishes to flee from as well?" the man demanded, clearly referring to stand power.

"Yes... I just haven't asked him what it's called yet" he informed, glancing over at Uladzislau desperately.

(if your character thinks about it, they will probably be aware of what it's called... stand users (for some reason) always come up with names for their stand that are musical references. In your case, your stand was probably pre-named and you just are subconsciously aware of it)

In reply to Froggychum (msg # 135):

A momentary confusion clouded Uladzislau's thoughts, then memory of the song that his ring had sung while healing the druggie came to mind. "Blood Red Sandman" he said, and the ring throbbed with bloody crimson light approvingly, two bars of the song playing very quietly from it.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 17:02, Mon 07 Oct 2019.

"Very well, you may both enter" he said. "I didn't think you were the type that I'd see again around here, Miguel... 'specially carrying someone in tow" he amusingly said to nobody in particular, almost as if thinking about to himself out loud.

He opened the door to the foyer and they were greeted with an incredibly open space with no floor except for the building's cement foundation, and a space that was artificially open-plan, probably after they knocked out all the walls, and replaced the load-bearing ones with the steel beams that littered the place. inside, it almost looked like a government building, albeit a shady one. It had many stalls, booths and benches full of people getting Fake driver's licenses, birth certificates and the likes.

There was even a surgeon's office that was doing emergency plastic surgery behind a closed curtain with a scarily low amount of anesthetic.

"You're not the kind of person to run away a second time" he muttered, more seriously this time.

He walked them up to a row of chairs and sat them down, offering them each a ski mask, Miguel, for one, declined. The people seated next to them were an elderly couple wearing ski masks. The man held a briefcase, presumably full of cash, and the woman held a purse stuffed to the brim with jewelry.

The woman had some printed sheets of facebook conversations, presumably to be deleted, and she also carried a photos book.

The red-skinned barbarian had no idea what he should think about the comments the... clerk? made about Miguel. He had the impression that his companion was not in the best of terms with whatever government agency this was.

The ski mask got a double take, looking at it, then at other people around, then back at it. He looked at his hand and peculiar skin coloration. No, a mask wouldn't help hide anything. He declined the mask as well, just sitting quietly with Woundhealer resting against his knee, paying attention to everything and anything. How American governments differed from ones in the Russian-speaking world was a complete mystery; he couldn't assume that movies were at all accurate in how they depicted them.

I go after the man.

@Neito

(he's a boy, but yes I should have wrote that more consistently)

(I assume you put on your one piece of clothing first? Or do you just go out fully naked?)

Neito hurries after the little rascal that pranked him so inconsiderately. He didn't plan on harming him, after all he was just a child, and Neito liked to consider himself a good guy... maybe even a hero...

People looked at him funny as he ran through the halls wearing barely anything. If he was actually naked, he would be following right behind the boy, but people would be gasping at the indecency.

(next post confirm whether or not you put on clothes, and then i will continue the narration from there)

@Uladzislau, your post is coming up next.

"Well, while we're here, I guess I'll tell you what I know" he told the red-skinned man. It was clear he had seen weirder things than that, however. So had everyone inside here, they barely took a second glance at the stand user.

If he hadn't stopped to look before, Uladzislau did now, the man had light brown skin and messy brown hair, as well as brown eyes. He was latino and appeared to be in his early 20s, despite his crowskin, probably from stress.

"You see... I always was an easily intimidated person," he began, "I don't like to fight, and I'm even a bit of a scaredycat" he said... "Mom always told me I was generous with my friends, but not with anyone else...." he said, a tear growing in his eye when he mentioned his mom, whom he probably hadn't seen in months or perhaps even years. "I'm not very good at enforcing my limits, and I never get lucky with romance" he complained, to himself mostly.

"My real name is Miguel Martinez, but I've been using a fake name these people gave me for three years. I grew up in a neighborhood that wasn't great, but it's definitely not the worst new york has to offer" he told the man, "My parents moved out into a nicer neighborhood though, when I was a freshman in high school. My friends all either cut me out or started acting differently around me, more expectant of things"

"I got bullied a lot for being richer, because I still attended the same school. I'm proud of my parents for making that decision, and saving up all they did, but I still wish they would have considered what the other kids would have thought about me after I moved away..." this guy was telling him a life story. It was definitely heading somewhere, though.

"One day, after I had graduated and gotten a decent job, one of my friends I haven't seen at that point, in like ten years came to my home and said that he needed my help" he said, a bit of anger inflicting itself into his voice.

"He lied to me and convinced me that it was the police who were after him, so I told him that I would talk to them, since I had some reputation for not being a scoundrel, like he always had" Miguel said, an air of regret in his voice.

"But, then guess who answered the door? The same guys who we're running from now! SUPERIUS! They are a gang that rules the city... They're all stand users, and as their name can tell you, have a superiority complex. Believing stand users should have free reign over regular humans" he said, with a tone of disagreement.

"A couple members showed up to my house to kill my childhood friend. I was powerless to stop them, they also found out that I had acquired a stand, what a nightmare!" he retold.

"They tried to draft me into their organization, but I escaped. Most people have heard about the gang, even if they have no idea what a stand is..." he revealed to the red-skinned stand user hulking in a chair beside him.

He gestured around, "These people helped me flee from the state, and I went to live with my grand-uncle" he told Uladzislau.

"I returned three years ago, and have been trying to leave an inconspicuous life" he finished.

"Am sorry, Miguel. English not first language. We speaking Russian home in Belarus," Uladzislau apologized after realizing that Miguel was talking too much for him to keep up with. That it was a story of the man's life, he grasped, but the details were not so clear. Parents he loved, a good friend in trouble, some sort of secret police?

"What stand is? I known word stand for museums and art, standing in lines. But this new meaning. Is new magic. I knowing Woundhealer is magic sword, but not known how I get. Or remembered why I am in America now. I was much smaller before, too."

Miguel looked down with shame as he realized he had barely considered if the man he was talking to could understand him. He decided to answer questions more simply from now on.

"A stand is the... form... of your mind's energy" he informed the man, using simple words if he could, "I don't think your sword is the stand. Anyone can only have one stand" he told the new stand user. "Your stand is what is making you red, big, have a sword, and heal things when you hit" he told the man.

"I assume it's either a bound stand, meaning an item with a stand in it. Or perhaps an Au-To-Mat-Tic stand," he spelled out automatic, "which works alone, and is invisible." he said. "The second one... would be harder for you." he said, a bit sorry if that's the case.

"I don't know why you're in America, I'm sorry" he told the man. "I don't know why you forgot... it might not be the stand." he told him, "Very little stands harm their user" he explained, "But it could be" Miguel said.

"I... seeing." Uladzislau said slowly. So, this 'stand' was why he was changed? If Woundhealer wasn't the stand, what was? His gaze fell to the ring on his finger.

Hmm. Leaving Woundhealer resting against his knee, he took hold of the ring with his other hand and gently tugged on it to see if it would come off.

The ring is tight, as if clinging on for dear life. But, the barbarian's strength overrides it's will to stick on his finger, and he yanks it off... Suddenly, he feels very tired, exhausted, both mentally, physically and... spiritually? His eyes gloss over and his brain waves revert to static fuzz... he passes out and the ring drops to the floor. His body is cold, but not dead... But not truly alive either... As if his very soul was gone.

"Wh-what in the Hell?" Miguel asked to God, freaked out... "G-guess tha-that's the stand... " he said, chuckling ever so softly...

"I've never seen a stand do something like this... even if it was a Bound stand..." he said. "This is... something else... " he wondered, picking up the ring.

Just then, the man pulled off his mask and turned his head to face behind him, hollering out to a man behind the surgeon's curtain, presumably the doctor...

But, then, the patient jumped out from the bed and started buttoning up his shirt. The doctor stould up, shaking and walked backwards to the corner of the room where he collapsed, his knife unbloodied.

In fact, the anesthetic machine had never run... the patient wasn't actually under. He was a man in dark grey clothes, very formal, and his face was covered by his hat, which was tilted forward to shade his features. He clearly was an enemy, but his identity was meant to be unknown.

Many people in charge looked over in shock, and one woman, who had clearly worked here for many years, yelled "INTRUDER!" and broke an alarm button hidden underneath her desk. The rest pulled out SMGs from underneath the desk, and hopped over their desks as they loaded them, including some people who normally wouldn't be able to do it, and clearly had trained this routine a dozen times.

The man's face didn't change, or mayhaps it did. it was hidden, "I'm just here for these two" he said, his voice impossibly gravelly. He was clearly modifying it somehow... it wasn't human, and it was mechanical. Could even be a robot. But, Miguel had spotted an odd machine not part of his body underneath his collar. He really didn't want his identity known.

THe old couple shaked in shame, they had clearly been working with him, the woman looked over to Miguel, and pleaded, "We had to... we're sorry. they'll forgive us now, and we will be safe" she broke into tears and the man's stern face barely glanced at Miguel and his knocked out friend before comforting his wife.

Miguel hastily slid the ring back on  the finger and began to slap the now-small and normal-colored man into waking up... he hoped he was still in there, or at least could be roused back. He kept yelling 'we're under attack!'. Then, the man began to walk towards them...

Red light arced between ring and finger as the metal band approached Uladzislau's digit. There was an almost audible click as the ring slid on, literally pulling itself back into place with bloody red light welling out. Light that shot up Uladzislau's arm through the veins to his heart, and the small Belarusian man convulsed once as he started to grow back to barbarian height and build, the light racing through his arteries spreading redly through his flesh from them.

In the moments before he regained awareness, the barbarian had a vision of library-style shelves floating around him, with pulsing veins and arteries of light floating between them. And between them and him. Two short verses in English played through his thoughts, heard but not-heard.


"With blood and rage of crimson red,
Ripped from a corpse so freshly dead,
Together with our hellish hate,
We'll burn you all--that is your fate!"

"Whose flesh the Sword of Mercy hurts has drawn no breath;
Whose soul it heals has wandered in the night,
Has paid the summing of all debts in death
Has turned to see returning light."


His eyes returned to the white-on-white of his barbarian state as consciousness fully returned, and he started to sit up, looking around in confusion. The puddle of blood that Woundhealer had melted into when the ring was removed went unnoticed by him, for now.

「Blue Suede Shoes!」 the man says, voice still modified and face still hidden.

A stand appears in front of him. It resembles him perfectly, except it is made of Blue Suede and has 'Ace of Spades' playing cards for eyes.

The stand runs towards them at 35 KPH, fists already held up.

Miguel looks around desperately for some liquid, then realizes something, and gags in preemptive disgust.

Miguel ducks out of the way to slurp up the blood left behind by Woundhealer. He gags twice before standing up and looking at the man's stand, tears forming in his eyes. The man looks at him quizzically.

Then, right before he throws up, he brings his stand out. Then, well, he pukes... However instead of bloody vomit, what comes out is a blast of molten lava that the stand barely dodged, burning his shoulder. The man hisses in pain from the corner of the room, but doesn't scream, likely as not to disrupt his voice modifier. His perfectly smoothed out suit, smoked a little and soaked with blackened blood. His shoulder had been severely burned.

The stand swings a right hook at Miguel with it's non-damaged shoulder.

Battle! There was a battle and he was missing it! Wait... why was he excited about a fight? He didn't know, but barbaric instinct had him scrambling to his feet already, trying to interpose himself between the onrushing blue thing and the elderly pair of civilians nearby.

Where was his sword? He glanced left. He glanced right. No sword. Well, he still had fists. And he started flailing with both of them, two-fisted inexperience going after both combatants, Miguel and the blue Stand, trying to aim for where they were wounded without any real rational thought as to why he was doing so.

The barbarian wasn't quite faster than the stand, and the punch landed before he could get between them. He was lucky it was just one punch that made contact.

Uladzislau stands between the two and begins to pummel both his friend where he got punched, and the foe they had succeeded in damaging. The foe's stand healed much slower and required more effort, indicating it was partially the kind of being that his stand would actually harm, though Uladzislau didn't know his abilities enough yet to know that.

Miguel shook in anger, "Why in the Hell are you healing our enemy? We need to protect ourselves!" he said, feelings of betrayal heavy in his voice.

After the stand had been fully healed, he broke the barbarian's pummeling by starting his own combo attack, throwing up to five punches into the side of his head if he didn't move out of the way or try something to avoid damage. These punches hurt a little, but weren't very strong against Uladzislau, so it seemed to not be urgent.

However, each punch that landed, the man smiled in deep satisfaction...

That's when Uladzislau realized, after the second punch, he had forgotten both how to make attacks with his left-side's limbs and how to swallow.

Huh??!?

He didn't know who was friend and who was foe in this fight. But forgetting how to punch with one hand told him that the blue thing punching him was no friend.

Blaaaarrrrrgggghhh! Blood spewed from Uladzislau's mouth like a firehose, blood burning with the unholy light of his now-singing ring. One hand, the right one, came up to meet it, grabbing the flow as Woundhealer started to reform. The other did not, and burning blood splashed all over what was in front of him, physical liquid making the Stand it drenched somewhat visible to normal folks like how a cloud of flour could make an invisible figure visible again by coating or outlining it.

The stand was coated in the blood, but it did not stain it's body, which was made entirely of fabric. The man scoffed in disgust, and straightened out his collar, almost habitually.

The stand threw two more punches at the Barbarian before he could dodge, they didn't hurt too bad, except the last one he felt it when it hit him in the jaw. The stand was faster than him, but was clearly struggling to actually harm him.

However, the first hit made him forget how to attack *without* a weapon, and the hit in the jaw made it so he would clench his jaw, exponentially harder, as well as forget how to unclench it.

When the man saw the second effect take place, he stifled a chuckle.

Miguel pulled himself back up and his stand grabbed a nearby reusable water bottle off one of the armed lady's shelves.

They told everyone to get down, not including Miguel and Uladzislau. They aligned themselves with the two men so they wouldn't be shot. The man frowned and grabbed the cowering surgeon as a hostage

OOC: Who are the "they" telling people to get down?

Uladzislau's face took on a shocked expression when he realized that he couldn't open his mouth to snarl or growl. Or to speak. His brows lowered, glowering in growing fury at the blue thing (the hostile Stand). Woundhealer was still forming from blood and scab, the summons of the Sword of Mercy considerably slowed down either by the use of a single hand or by the memory-rattling blows he was taking.

The ring was still blazing and singing the song Blood Red Sandman on his finger, seemingly undaunted by the blows its' barbarian was taking.

Not remembering how to punch, kick, or any bits of martial arts he'd seen back home in Belarus or when he was attending school in Moscow, the red-skinned man struggled to get his jaw open, using both hands as best he could without letting go of the half-evoked magic sword. What muffled vocal sounds came from his throat might be mistaken for strangling or choking noises.

OOC: 'They' are the staff that drew guns earlier

As the two parties of stand users faced off, suddenly and unceremoniously, the staff let forth a wave of bullets, even though the man was holding a hostage. The man withdrew his stand to avoid another set of damage, and although the surgeon absorbed some of the bullets, he was hit by quite a few. And he collapsed to the floor, bleeding out of many new holes. The surgeon was wrapped in his arms, dead.

Coincidentally, the voice modifier got hit by a bullet as well. "Grugrggh..." the man moaned, his voice not quite revealed since it wasn't spoken words.

He felt at his throat to the broken instrument and panicked for a second, before swallowing, and gaining his composure. He felt lucky that the bullet hand't struck his throat, but he knew death was better than failure in this case. He didn't say any of that of course, but it was thought by him.

He summoned his stand again, which wasn't visibly injured, but was clearly feeling his injuries as well.

Then, Miguel chugged the bottle of water and began to gargle it.... The stand rushed towards him. You have a chance to hit him now.

Bullets... Uladzislau did still remember what bullets were. And there was blood, normal mundane blood flowing. Blood. Something within him reacted very strongly to that.
Both hands met on the hilt of the scab-sword, the ring's light almost magnetically pulling him into a combat stance with no understanding of what he was doing in his mangled memory.
Red light arced between his hands across Woundhealer as they came together in place, and scab transmuted to metal forming the complete sword. His jaw still stuck clenched agonizingly together; he couldn't snarl a battle cry as he instinctively lunged between the brown man (Miguel) and the nasty blue thing (the hostile Stand), sword swinging itself at the oncoming Stand as if it was a normal blade that the barbarian was trying to use to kill his foe with.

The pain in his mouth seemed to him to be fueling the red rage of the ring, driving him to the brink of going berserk.

Though the blade had barely had any effect up until this point, for some reason, when it struck the stand, it knocked it back and left a mark, although it didn't do the full damage a sword of it's caliber usually would. It seemed there was some distinction deciding when the blade would harm someone and when it would heal them... Odd.

Miguel did his best to push past the barbarian and released the water he had gargled. The liquid that came out, appeared to be regular water, but when it struck the injured stand, the man screamed in agony and swore many times. It was salt-water that, through his stand, tortured his wounds with agonizing pain.

His voice was somewhat revealed, he had an Italian accent and his voice was that of someone you'd respect, in exchange for respect. He had a commanding, but not arrogant voice. And even his pained expletives had undertones of loyalty in them, as if his very existence was to serve. He had strength in it too, he was not a coward or a weakling. He served out of respect.

Odd, yes, but at least it hurt the fiend... whatever it was. Miguel's talk about Stands and even who Miguel was fled his memory for the time being, as the barbarian in him focused on fighting this thing and protecting the civilians (or presumed civilians) nearby from it. Everything had a red cast to his vision, blood being in command here rather than mercy or artistic desires.

Miguel finally recognized the barbarian was in a blood rage, and decided to step back.

The others were out of ammo but now that Uladzislau was taking them in melee combat, they weren't going to riddle him with bullets... They didn't understand his stand specifically, even though some of them assumed bullets wouldn't be lethal.

The man was in pain, so even though the barbarian wasn't as fast, he got the initiative to make the first attack. The man was very injured, though none would be fatal if he could soon escape.

OOC) I put on the pants

he continues to follow the boy as he is thinking about why the boy stole his clothes.

The boy is quite fast, and knows the shower halls pretty well, he likely pulls pranks here more often than not.

Once you turn onto the longest hallway yet, at the other ends are the doors to the rest of the area.

Outside of those doors are some public roads and sidewalks, a parking lot and another building, much larger than this one, which is an indoor swimming area. You know this, because you came in through these doors.

The boy is standing at those doors and sticks his tongue out again and waves goodbye, before fleeing out into broad daylight, with everything you own besides what was in your backpack (which you lost prior) and your underpants.

As the door closes, you see a brief glimpse of something, a bit of ethereal color, but it may have just been the light. the boy says something too you can't make out over the loud shower heads and the people talking in the nearby changing rooms.

In reply to Froggychum (msg # 157):

If the blue thing (Blue Suede Shoes) is still present, Uladzislau continues trying to slaughter it with Woundhealer, guttural, muffled growls deep in his throat despite not being about to open his jaw to snarl and roar properly.

If the enemy Stand has vanished, the barbarian berserkly attacks random inanimate things (chairs, for example) as he heads for the bloody mess where the surgeon went down. Giving the body a stab or two with Woundhealer as instinct drives him to check for lingering life, a potential imagination to save. His next priority after that is the other wounded enemy, the Italian man, trying to drive his sword through the man's head should the surgeon be beyond recovery. An 'I blame you for his death' sort of behavior, even through the red haze of rage.

(I can't seem to find if it's present or not, so I'm gonna go with 'nah')

The barbarian begins smashing things in the room, much to the disdain of the workers who voice their complaints with halfhearted scolding.

Once he reached the surgeon, they found that he had, unfortunately, already died. He had taken too many bullets from his own coworkers, he had probably signed up for this when he started working here.

By the time he reached the man, however, he had managed to gather his strength. He looked a bit surprised that the man hadn't attacked him yet, but he prepared to fight anyway, standing up with a ready stance, while bringing his stand out on the side where the barbarian wold have a harder time swinging

(since you're both prepared, your actions shouldn't state results, just attempts at attacks, he may be able to counter some of them)

Edit: missed that you just went for one head swing, so if you still make that attack, he dodges it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:51, Fri 11 Oct 2019.

He then decides to send All-star after the boy and decides to wait while he looks for clues to who he is.

In reply to Froggychum (msg # 162):

Still seeing red everywhere, the barbarian tried (and I do mean tried, not succeeded) to take out his fury on the man, but the presence of the blue Stand distracted him from the fleshly person. He kept turning, trying to hit them both with wild, two-handed swings that were easily spotted coming. That the barbarian was not very smart in a blood rage would be readily apparent to someone observing him carefully.

The barbarian was very strong, not very fast and at the moment, was splitting his hits two ways, and also not focusing on either of his targets.

He didn't hit any of his attacks.

The man ran towards the door, and his stand followed him. On the way, he taunted the man to follow him with rude gestures and condescending cursing. Using his stand to block his way and then avoid any attacks until he was at the door

Once the man caught up to him at the door, he readied his stand to do an attack.

Before the barbarian would make an attack, he spat at his feet and laughed, "You'll never understand anything about what we did to you," he chuckled.

The stand was very fast, but it's range wasn't great, so once the 15 meter hallway was crossed, the boy was already standing 15 meters outside the entrance, meaning the swarm of stars was already 30 meters outside of Neito's range.

The boy looked directly at the stand and gasped, it was clear now he was a stand user. Neit osaw this all through the eyes of his stands, of course everything he saw was black-tinted because they were wearing sunglasses, but he saw nonetheless through countless pairs of eyes at once, which was quite disorienting, so he needed to choose how many pairs of eyes to look through (each pair more than one is going to make you less focused, which isn't good, but the information may be valuable)

The boy was a stand user, however there was no stand beside him. In fact, all that had changed was he was now wearing clown make-up and clothing and a little ring glowed an assortment of bright colors on his finger.

In reply to Froggychum (msg # 165):

Bestial grimaces his expression, his snarls trapped by the ever-clenched jaw, Blood Red Sandman made one all-out attack on the blue Stand with no sign that he understood the man's taunts. But inwardly, the ring was worrying as his berserk rage duration was just about run out, and he hadn't had anything to eat or some rest to recover from the last berserking. Something deep inside told him that he was going to black out when the blood rage ended.

The stand blocked the first couple attacks by pure speed, but the next ones were coming with the velocity of a far-stronger attack, and they hit. The stand was damaged partially with each of the two hits, before making a counter attack.

The first hit broke his hand and left a gash in it and the second one skinned his other arm. Now, the man's suit was soaked with blood and he screamed in pain, uttering curses as quietly as he could, which wasn't much.

The man managed to duck out of the way of the fifth attack, and then come back in and land a punch to the nose which barely hurt the tough barbarian as he raised his sword for another blow. This blow to the nose made the man forget made the man forget how to breathe out of his nose.

The man risked another punch to the nose, but got hit by the sixth attack while doing so. It barely hit him but did full damage, it seemed the more he hurt him , the more damage he was taking. However, this was a good one, as it actually bruised his nose and gave him a nosebleed. It also had him forget how stop or control his breathing, so now he would become exponentially excited and possibly pass out much sooner.

The blow sliced a line straight down his chest, and it went all the way to the surface of his muscles. nothing vital was struck, but he bled quite a lot after just moments. He roared in pain and opened the door with his stand very fast and leaped behind the door, closing it and leaving it between them.

A more focused fighter might notice that he was planning to ambush, desperately injured.

That one all-out attack had been the last of his berserk strength, and Blood Red Sandman started to crumple to the ground as his knees gave out. Falling backward and to one side, Uladzislau was unconscious before even fully emerging from the rage. But the prone barbarian was no longer a physical wall of red muscle between others in the room and the enemy Stand, either.

The man realized he had no chance of winning, but he still wanted to take hostages. He opened the door as little as he could, still using it as decent cover, and dragged the barbarian out the door, Miguel could barely see what was happening, but new something was going wrong. The armed ladies and gentlemen didn't have a clear shot considering the man had navigated himself to the only door, the one they had come in through, which had a sort of airlock (as in a second door) blocking the main room off from the entrance/exit.

Miguel chased after them while one lady put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off, not super politely either.

By the time he had reached the outside of the building, the barbarian had been dragged off elsewhere, perhaps the man had hidden or vanished into the crowd. The former was more believable, as he was carrying an unconscious man.

(If you take more than 2 hours to come to, you will wake up inside an interrogation room. Otherwise, you will awaken inside of a van with blacked-out windows and two masked men driving you.)

Some unknown time later, Uladzislau slowly started to regain consciousness. He wasn't in a bed, nor even seated in a bus or plane. Confused eyes saw a stark (interrogation) room, completely unfamiliar to him, and his foggy thoughts wondered where he was and what had happened.

There was a note left on the table saying, "You are being kept here until we decide otherwise"

That otherwise highly implied that they were waiting to capture his friend.

If Uladzislau recognized the setting, perhaps he would be scared that he might be in danger, but there had been no threat of 'interrogation' yet, and besides, what could they want to know from someone who is looking for answers his self.

(OOC: Blood Red Sandman is capable of fluent reading, but not as much with spoken or audio, correct?)

OOC: I think you got it backwards. He cannot read or write, but understands speech.


Confused, bewildered, hungry, thirsty, Uladzislau's gaze wandered over his surroundings, not recognizing the place or what kind of place it might be.

Is he restrained in the chair by anything he can see or feel?

There is a seat and a table, but there are no visible or physical restraints.

there is a door to the far corner of the room, but it has multiple locks on it:

 - Two industrial deadbolts
 - The door itself is locked
 - an additional lock, like you'd see on a locker
 - the door is padded and reinforced
 - Two thick chains holding things tightly together.

There is nothing else he could see in the room besides the note.

Standing up, he approached the table, peering uncertainly at the note but unable to read it. Spending more than a minute puzzled by it, he eventually turned away to explore the walls in hopes of a secret door or panel with food behind it. Or a means to get to where there was food.

It was likely the ring in effect that made him think there'd be secret panels, but of course, there were none. After searching the walls, he found that above the table, the horrible fluorescent lighting that flickered like a nauseating strobelight had a button next to it, probably to turn it off.

The door had nothing on it, except for a clouded glass window, which was perhaps visible thru on the other side, but not here.

No food. No water. No monsters. No treasure chests. And a locked door. Was that button up there a trap? That light spell was terrible; had the caster been suffering a bad hangover when they cast it?

Wait. Light spell? He did a double take in response to his own thoughts. He looked again, recognizing the technological nature of the fluorescent light, and of the machine-made locks and chains on the door. Uladzislau held his head with both hands for a few heartbeats, trying to make sense of the conflicting barbarian and modern viewpoints. Lowering his hands, he walked over to the door.

He called out in Russian, asking if anyone was there.

No response. Nobody was present either, if he strained his ears. He may still be under surveillance.

He had no choice but to wait, until a few hours later, when a mean-looking guy walked in, dressed in nice clothes and with his hair slicked back. He reeked of alcohol covered over with cheap cologne.

He was part of the force chasing them, and looked to be just above your generic tank-top thug with tattoos and a chili stain on his shirt.

"You speak English good, bud?" the man asked condescendingly, as if his english was perfect. He had a Russian accent. "Or do I need to talk to you in mother tongue?" he said in Russian to the man.

"You've been repurposed, don't get any ideas though, just cause you got something now doesn't mean you can take us" he told and then threatened, Uladzislau probably didn't understand what he was talking about.

There was something weird about the man, but it didn't feel to be that he may be a stand user, it was something about his appearance...

The smell reminded him of busses back when he was going to school in Moscow. When vodka prices rose during a shortage, poor workers turned to drinking cheap perfume, which made bus (and train) rides an exercise in overwhelming sweetness in the morning.

"I would rather use the mother tongue," Uladzislau answered in Russian. His gaze focused hungrily on the chili stain, reminded that he hadn't had anything to eat in an unknown period of time.

"I don't know what you mean by repurposed. Does it have anything to do with why someone painted me red?"

The man scoffed impatiently, as if he was angry. In fact, he was taking full advantage of the fact that he'd finally met someone he could boss around both because he was a higher rank, and because they would be prevented from beating him up.

"I'm not going to tell you about any of that" he said, faking smugness. It was clear he knew very little and was ordered to be here.

"I'm very important" he mumbled, not convincing either of the two men.

He rolled his eyes and bit his lip, as if wishing he had something to drink. "You're back here because we don't want you running around outside" he said, insultingly.

"You're an experiment gone wrong" he flinched, as his earpiece Uladzislau hadn't noticed under his hair, evne though it was slicked back, yelled at him. "Not wrong, just poorly" he gritted his teeth, clearly on a tight leash.

Then, the door opened again, and this time, the person coming in took all the precautions, unlike the man. "God Almighty, Jurg, no wonder you mean nothing to this industry" a man said, walking in, speaking English.

He was dressed far better than the other man, and smelled faintly of excellent cologne. He was immaculate, and he looked far more important.

"Get out, fool. I'll take care of this" he commanded in english, the man slunk away with a bitter frown that hid depression and self-sabotaging tendencies.

The last thing Uladzislau noticed before the man left was that the thing he hadn't notice dbefore was that he had a little embroidered patch, right above the chili stain, which he recalled the men who had picked him up from the airport had.

The image was a snake with one eye. The man who walked in had a snake with two eyes, instead. Signifying his value to the force.

"I will explain things to you, because you are not our enemy, nor are we yours" he told him. "In fact, because you have been 'painted red' you are now one of us. We are the chosen people, who were placed on earth to rule over the meek. It's our birthright, even if some achieve it later, liek yourself" the man told him.  The man said all this in russian, even though he himself wasn't Russian.

Things were becoming clearer
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:13, Tue 15 Oct 2019.

With bits and fragments of memory slowly returning over the hours that he'd sat, paced, and searched the walls in here, Uladzislau had a vague idea of what the man might be talking about. Miguel had mentioned some kind of racist, Stand-supremacy gang terrorizing the city.

"Why would I want to rule over anyone, sir? I'm an archivist, not a leader," remaining in his native Russian. For the moment, the modern side of him was in control rather than the barbarian.

He eyed that patch. Realizing that it signified ranks was probably something to work hard not to forget, he decided, though he still had no idea what those ranks were or who did what.

"Some people think that way at first, but even good people come to realize that stands are the future of the world" he told the barbarian, "Why would anyone else be fit to lead?" he asked, seeming to be genuinely puzzled.

"Either way, you have to come with us, we need to keep an eye on you. Stand users are known to bump into one another, and we don't want a rebellion forming, now do we?" he said

He stood from his chair, and put a hand towards the door, indicating the man follow him there.

He approached the door and knocked thrice the rapped on it with his knuckles for a second before shaking the doorknob and knocking twice more. It was an odd code, and he didn't seem happy with it either, as if it was one he would be stuck with for just a while longer.

Some men outside opened the door, and the man began to lead the barbarian out. "We plan to observe the changes the ring has brought you" he said. "You never agreed to it, but this is how you got in this country. We tricked you into a better future. Harder, but worth it" he said

"Now," the man said, arriving at another door, this place was clearly an old safehouse refashioned to have more purposes, a smell came from inside the door, "Why don't we get you something to eat? I could practically hear your stomach growling" he told the stand user. Inside the kitchen, waffles popped out of the toaster, and sausages and bacon were finishing being cooked, and the grease was being looked at longingly by a chubby, middle-aged Doberman.

Uladzislau wondered at the first two questions the snake man had responded with. It seemed to him that the question that the man thought he was answering was not the same question as he had asked. But he kept quiet for the moment and followed, recognizing that he was a prisoner of some kind here.

He took mental note of the code, but didn't trust his memory to retain it long, with how things had been lately.

"Food would be appreciated, sir. All I had yesterday - was it yesterday? - was a single bunch of grapes."

A better future? His idea of a better future was dealing with the arts more closely, perhaps finding a wife eventually and raising a family. Not... racism and politics.

Even the slightest expression on Uladzislau's face that would make it's way onto his face when dealing with the word Racism would be noticed by the man, he responded earnestly with, "It's not racism, like you may think at first. If you truly think about it, it's the next step in evolution. It's not scientifically untrue, either." he told him, "For many, it's the greatest unity there is. For the others, they're future will be better under our grasp" he told him. The creep clearly believed in all these things. "Think about it," he told the stand user, "at no cost to ourselves, we can change the world. This organization first and foremost seeks to get our kind into a place of power" he told him, using our to include Uladzislau, whetehr he was comfortable with it or not. It wasn't clear whether or not this man was a stand user.

"After we are in charge, we hope to unite all the stand users we can, and improve the world." he told him, "Stand users are known to attract one another" he told him. "Think about it, these fantastical powers should not be wasted in disorder or impoverished circumstances!" he told him, "Imagine a man who could cure any disease! Alone, he couldn't end cancer, but perhaps we find that his power comes from the Carbon Dioxide he exhales" he tells him, "He never realized before, but we figured it out" he said. "So, we take a bit of samples, and duplicate them in a lab, and suddenly, we have a cure-all available to any country under 96 hours for absolutely no price. No other government would let that happen, they would hold it to their bosoms and wait for cash to flow in from shady places" he said, "Are goal is supremacy, but beyond that, our end goal is a new future" he said.

By the time he was finished, the food was prepared, and the table set. The man bowed to him and told the two chefs to keep watch, and to call him if needed. He left the room, and a motorbike was heard revving away. There was a window in this room, but it had a single board across it, clearly not entirely finished renovations, or perhaps safety and appearances were unsuccesfuly being worked together, making a not-safe but not-pretty window.

They were more competent than that, likely. These people weren't just thugs, they were specialists. The people placed a plate full of the aforementioned food in front of him, and poured him a glass of pure orange juice with no pulp, and put a lime on the rim, coating it in table sugar. They said something in Italian and blew him a kiss platonically, probably tradition, and they took off their aprons while on watched him eat and one cleaned up the pots and pans and stuf.

Uladzislau listened attentively, unsure what to make of all this that the snake-man was saying. Neither a modern viewpoint nor a barbaric one trusted this idea of being in charge. He was very hungry, but was starting to worry that the food might be a bribe or a way towards being more under the thumb of this group.

He thanked the pair of chefs, in his native Russian, and dug into the food eagerly. The barbarian in him was more famished than he'd thought, and it took some attention to keep tolerable table manners when that side of him wanted to ravage and pillage the meal like a wild animal. Or perhaps like an actor in a melodrama.

The one chef watching paid no attention to his voracious hunger, he had probably seen people starved for weeks before being offered a decent meal, and so he didn't seem to stop being stoic.

The other chef finished cleaning at his own pace, not worrying that the meal was going to be done early. Neither of them had responded to the thank, either because they weren't allowed, or because they didn't speak Russian, they definitely weren't from Russia, yet, neither was that man, who was bilingual.

The few words they spoke to one another were in Italian, though one spoke a phrase in French, perhaps he had dabbled or was taking lessons. the man nodded, not really listening. Each time words were exchanged, Uladzislau was still being kept under watch by the man's one eye, witch moved independently of his other eye, which was making ocasional eye contact. What a skill!

When the barbarian was done, a knock came on the door, and the one who cleaned answered, some stuff was said hushedly and then they beckoned for Uladzislau to stand, without cleaning up. A man with a hand bandage for a broken hand and shades and an earpiece stood in front of him. He told him to get a move on in English.

Unlike the Italian, French had seemed to verge on sort-of understandable to Uladzislau. Though he wasn't paying any attention to what was being said, so it slipped on by.

Following instructions, the big, red barbarian stood up, watching the two chefs for further instructions. But it came from the man who was at the door instead. He looked to the chefs to see if he should obey the newcomer.

If they indicated to go with him, Uladzislau did so, bowing once to the chefs in thanks before he went. And remembering just in time to pick up his horned helmet which he'd taken off for the meal.

They rushed him along and bowed back, the one who cleaned up waved, almost enthusiastically before the other began to barrage him with negative remarks. He clearly was newer on the job and got a bit too friendly.

The man brought the barbarian into a car, where a man, who looked almost identical to him, was sitting in the drivers seat. The first man put him in the back, and pulled out some rope to tie him up with.

If he didn't resist, he stepped back into the passengers seat after closing the side door as if nothing happened, and nodded to his doppleganger. He would begin to drive.

Nothing is visible through the windows, and the car is air conditioned.

The barbarian looked at the car, looked at the two men, looked at the car again... got in back where he was told, and snarled in a bestial manner at the ropes.

Neito then ran to where his stand was whilst looking through the eyes of the center star.

@Neito

The boy had tried to flee, but Neito, as an adolescence, was faster, and caught up to him. His stand also moved with the boy, trailing him.

The boy began to look around panicked and began to cuss at the stars, on the verge of a temper tantrum.

Suddenly, in the boys' hands, a delicious coconut pie formed. He threw the soft desert at the stars angrily. However, even if they dodged the pie, when it landed... Something unexpected happened.

The pie exploded like a unit of dynamite, and blew up a hole in the sidewalk that was 2 1/2 feet deep, and 5 1/2 feet across. The ground was charred and smoking, and some remains of pie filling were flaming around in the hole and on the rim. A bout a quarter of Neito's present stands took damage and were destroyed, which hurt Neito pretty significantly for a tasty desert. His entire left side and both the limbs on that end got light burns and his clothes got tattered. He also got multiple scratched along that side which bled and stung.

The boy looked happily surprised.


@Uladzislau

The drive goes on for a couple of hours. Eventually, they drive through a noisy city-like area, but then the noise slowly fades away in the distance and the car stops. As soon as the man in the passenger seat opens the door to take out Uladzislau, the barbarian is surprised to see that the sun is low in the sky, and the sun will surely be setting in no more than half an hour.

The man undoes the ropes and rolls his eyes at any snarling, and offers the barbarian a bag to put over his head. Uladzislau feels oddly aware of the fact the man is concealing a gun (not so well either, probably above the law in most places, and also intimidation factor, rather than sneakiness). If he wants to save the fights for later, he might wanna comply.

A number of thoughts had gone through his head during the car ride, ranging from astonishment over the situation to worries about his missing passport and whether Mother was aware that something had happened to him on this odd trip overseas.

Other than a growl when he was reached for, cutting off when he realized that the ropes were being removed, Uladzislau made no complaints or comments. A bag over his head seemed okay as long as it didn't choke him. He came along without any fight.

The position of the sun was a surprise. My, that had been a late breakfast if sunset was nearly upon them now. A snatch of music passed through his head... no, it wasn't in his head. With the bag over it, though, he couldn't see the music video that his ring was projecting. It was a song that he'd known back home, though, by the Belarusian band Bi-2. 'The Black Sun' was the name of it when translated into English.

I continue de-summoning all-star as I approach at an even faster rate.

Neito is thinking about learning more about why this kid stole his clothing. "Everyone has a little good in them, right?" Neito whispers.

Moving through the significant, albeit not blinding pain, Neito arrived at the boy's exact location. People are looking at him odd now, although nobody has jumped in because of an assumption yet.

Neito, even after being provoked, was not planning on resorting to violence. He was injured, half-naked and insulted, but he believed that everyone must have some good in them, right? He would ifnd the good in the boy by talking to him, and he would avoid a physical altercation.

(OOC: Nice! Character development! I'm actually kind of proud of you. good job)

When the boy saw that the man who he had stolen from in a sticky situation wasn't stopping after being injured, he entered a near state of panick, "It w-was just a prank, d-dummy" he complained in a whimpering tone.

He looked around as Neito drew closer, almost at his destination, "Rapist!!!" he yelled, everyone looked around and some people thought about it, but just as a group of college students were going to tackle Neito, a man yelled at them from a distant, "Hey! Stop it! This little shit said the same thing to me after he plucked my wallet!"

The boy swallowed hard and his face began to glisten with sweat, "N-no" he cried under his voice, on the verge of a breakdown.

"He's a petty criminal, and a liar!" he yelled, people looked around, and the college students, held back for now. One told Neito to stop before he reached the boy, warning him there might be a fight if he refused. "Bro, just stay there, so we know you're not going to hurt anyone" he said, implying that Neito would be hurt if he didn't listen. These group of six men were all quite buff, and most of them had cardio paraphinilia, meaning they likely took cardio exercises, and would have good stamina, of course, tehy didn't know Neito was a stand user, in fact, they might not even be sure what that is, and not all of them had seen the whole encounter.

Some women whispered among themselves about why the weird teenage man had gotten burnt out of nowhere, and how come the sidewalk exploded, one suggested it might be a sinkhole and that he had come here this way, but the others had payed attention, and were willing to be confused, so they disagreed with her.

Neito noticed all these things because he was clever. He might not understand the threat of the man, since he wasn't very street smart, and he might make a bad choice in front of all these people, who saw him as a potential threat.
This message was last updated by the GM at 12:04, Fri 18 Oct 2019.

Neito thought for a moment and concluded that he was going to let the boy keep the clothing.

"Keep the clothes", Neito said before asking the boy "But first why do you need them anyway?"

(You can put thoughts in the same post as actions, just put them in blue color and use italics)

The boy looked around, nervously put on the spot, then he said, "I-i'm ve-very poor m-mister..." the boy said, giving the crowd the puppy dog eyes. It wasn't convincing, but most these people didn't know the difference or didn't care to butt in.

The man told the boy, "That's what you said when you took my wallet" he said to the boy, "Thieving isn't legal, and if you keep this up you'll end up in a bad place" he told him, clearly a decent man like Neito.

"Give this man his clothes back, and I'll give you some money to buy your own" he told the boy.

The boy struggled inside for a bit and his face barely held his rage... He hated being told what to do, that much was clear. "I WANT THESE!" he yelled like a toddler, and stomped on the ground.

"Those belong to that man" he said, "I'll get you some of your own" he told him. The boy began to scream and freak out, which made people awkwardly look away and some to leave with no more sympathy left for the brat.

"Shut up ya brat! Where's ya mutha?" a man, who had a Boston accent, heckled to the child. He screamed out horrible cusses at the man, things he shouldn't even know like slurs and threats of
a criminal and violent nature. The people look at him disgustedly and an old granny passing by told him to watch his mouth when speaking to adults, the boy then fully lost his horrible little temper.

He began to scream at everyone and hot tears filled his ugly, scrunched up face.

Then, in front of the whole crowd, he puked on a man's legs, and instead of vomit, out came a rainbow swirl of liquid sugary candy that was boiling hot. The man yelled in pain and took off his pants and the boy started to call him a pervert, the group was against him now, and more people were gathering.

The boy was going almost feral, entering an animal-like, furious storm and swinging his weak arms everywhere hazardously.

Then, the candy-vomit-stained trousers began to shake as the vomit began to crystalize and move across the floor towards the boy. The granny from earlier called him a Demon and fainted.

Within moments, in the boy's hands, from the candy vomit, a colored wheel had formed, and with an evil look on his young face, he spun the wheel. People were confused and some were even horrified by the impossible things happening in front of them, but very few people had realized they should be scared for their lives.

The wheel finished spinning. The boy read what was on the wheel, and the boy said, "i sink, therefore i am". People were confused, but everyone looked at him when he said it. Then... everyone who had gathered, over thirty people, began to panic.

They were sinking into the ground. The granny, the man who had his wallet stolen, and Neito himself, along with countless others, were being swallowed by the concrete. They couldn't pull themselves out no matter how hard they tried. One man had been sitting on a patio chair which had a criss-crossing grid of metal lines. As he sunk through that, he cried out in pain, as his lower half was slowly shredded by the metal, like a horriyfing play-dough fun factory.

The boy snickered and ran off, nobody tried to stop him now.

Neito was sinking into the concrete, he needed to do something.

(goddamn! sorry, Uladzislau, i could've sworn I replied to your post. My bad, shit. I bet you were wondering when I was going to reply all weekend.. Yikes what a shame.)

The two men were walking with Uladzislau now, and they led him into the building he could not see. They stopped and so did he. For a while, he heard some clicks and beeps, indicating a stronger password system, a door opening, with what seemed to be metal plates shuffling out of place. Very high-tech, almost science fiction.

He got pushed slightly to show that they were continuing to walk now, the two were careful not to agitate him, realizing he was a bit on edge.

Slowly, it got colder, until he realized they had been descending down stairs for a while, and there was no heating. Eventually, they came across a curtain, which they stopped behind, the man on Uladzislau's right, the driver's almost doppelganger went through, then came back out and made a gesture, probably a nod of confirmation, and they went through, the thin layer of fabric was hoisted above the red skinned man's face, but he was quite large, so it still irritated him for a moment when it brushed against the bag covering his face, almost like having a bag put on him again, though with the added downgrade of him being impatient from the last, perhaps. Then again, it might not have made him care.

The two men sat down the barbarian, and sat on either side of him. The two men holding his arms lightly in case he were to try something tensed up, as if something was coming towards them.

Suddenly, the bag was ripped off Uladzislau's face, and he realized he was inside a makeshift church, with an altar, some pews and a bottle of vodka rather than holy water. There was an extremely expensive looking book, that had no title, and probably wasn't a bible.

Most of this stuff he didn't see right away, because in his face, there was the face of a pale man with bags under his eyes, and dark, thick hair.

He was smiling at him, almost like they were comrades. "Hello" the man said, his mouth didn't move when doing so, but Uladzislau still heard him. Almost as if he was whispering in his ear from behind him. It was eerie at the least.

The man pulled back and let the barbarian view the room more, which is when he noticed those things.

Then, he returned to his pew. "We're just waiting for your friend" he told the red skinned man, "Then you're re-education and assimilation will begin. Don't worry, we will never use force to teach you something" he said all this without moving his lips, and even though he was across the room, Uladzislau heard it as if he was speaking to him in a dream, where he understood the exact words without any way of that communication being possible. With a scary, but unidentified smile, the man bowed his head and disappeared into thin air with a puff of black smoke.

The two men gulped and nodded to Uladzislau, "Do not try to leave the room, sir" they told the man, as they left through the unsealed, unprotected curtain with a shiver clearly going down the driver's back as they left.

The man was sat there alone.

The chill didn't bother Uladzislau at all. If anything, it was more pleasant than the streets were. That he was being taken down a flight of stairs while blindfolded by this bag worried him, on the other hand, and he had to trust that the two with him would keep him from missing a step.

More cloth. Ugh. What was this, a changing room for a new costume? No. Someone in his face with a weird way of speaking. And a... church?!?

The startled barbarian sat stock still where he'd been seated, eyes going this way and that. Then they settled on the vodka bottle. A drink. Hmm. It wanted it, but felt wrong just jumping up to get it. This was a church and he ought to be on his best behavior in God's house, shouldn't he? It was what his parents would have expected of him.

He looked again, at the altar, wondering what denomination of Christianity this might be. He knew that the Orthodox churches weren't strong in America, a more Protestant and Catholic nation like England and Spain combined.

Then he eyed the book from where he was seated. Eh? Something told him that wasn't a Bible. Slowly, cautiously, the red-skinned barbarian got to his feet and crept over to the book to look at it more closely.

Suddenly, the book began to float towards him, and landed in Uladzislau's hands without a sound.

It waited for a moment, until suddenly the pages opened up by themselves.

Uladzislau had an ironic feeling for some reason, as if he's lost something he didn't actually have

The book was high quality but had no labels or cover, just many, many words in delicate and exquisate hand-done calligraphy. The cover had a picture of a snake with two connected eyes, making an infinity shape. The symbol was made of what seemed to be pure gold, and popped out of the cover.

Uladzislau couldn't read, it had no pictures, and the back was completely empty. The book's frame itself was dark black and had crimson corner-pieces on the corners.

He almost jumped out of his boots, he was so startled by the book coming to his hands.
Wary, but astonished, he watched the cover open by itself and pages turn. There was much writing, but he had no idea what the language or even the alphabet was.

The symbol on the cover reminded him of an amulet he'd seen once in a movie, something about a big, furry dragon-thing and a boy riding on it. But the name and plot eluded him entirely.

Holding the book carefully in one hand to avoid damaging it in any way, he turned a few pages with the practiced skill of one who had dealt with many volumes in a library. His training as an archivist had not abandoned him as a barbarian, at least in this regard.

Although he couldn't make out anything the book was saying to him, it became clear to him, perhaps just through the sheer energy exuded by the book's 'aura', that this was a manifesto, of some kind. It was a call to action, and a philosophical theory all-in-one. This was a holy book for the unreligious, and it was dangerous, terrifying, and imminent.

A barbaric growl rose in Uladzislau's throat, and he crossed himself with the hand not holding the book. While it seemed in-character for a barbarian to rip up a book for kindling or just out of rage, he couldn't bring himself to do so. Years at the university learning to care for things argued against it.

Closing the book, he tried to put it back where it had been resting. Face down.

He succeeded in doing so. The minor adrenaline spike relaxed, and the half-life of the aggression chemical was reached a few times until it dissipated and was absorbed back into his body to be recycled.

He would realize that things here were quite boring, though that wasn't necessarily painful for him, it might be nice to have a break, even if he was in the hands of 'the perhaps enemies'.

Considering his options, Uladzislau returned to where he'd been sitting and sat down again. He closed his eyes, thinking about what little he'd heard and learned about 'stands' so far, and wondered about his. There were so many questions, so much confusion.

He found himself (mentally) floating amidst bookshelves again, like the brief vision he'd had when Miguel returned his ring to his finger. He looked at the shelves, and at the veins of lights connecting him to them and them to each other. What was this?

There were a few books among CDs or DVDs and other, less clear objects on the shelves, and he tried to reach for one. It floated to meet his hand, and to his surprise he felt it as if he was holding a real book.

Opening the hefty, over-sized paperback in the mental vision, he turned a few pages, but could read nothing. However, it did have quite a few black and white drawings in it, mostly of anthropomorphic animals.

He kept turning pages, looking through World Tree (though he did not know the name), puzzled by it. Until he happened to open his eyes to check for anyone maybe having come into the church with him.

And did a double take at finding the book he'd been examining in his vision here in his red hands, solid and real.

If he had bit his tongue, he would have realized he was awake. That book he had dreamt of had materialized itself... What an odd power.

Looking around to see if someone had arrived here as well was perhaps a guilty act for him, considering he probably wasn't alone, considering that man was shown to be able to go invisible, and there could be surveillance present as well... THough that wouldn't mean he wasn't lonely... The people in his old life who would have comforted him would be better off not being here, so it wouldn't be like himself to push them under the bus so he could be comforted, he loved his family, and that means enduring this all so he could see them again.

And Miguel, perhaps he hoped Miguel was here so that they could work together to escape this place, maybe even he didn't care that this would be bad for Miguel, who had already escaped this force's clutches once again... He either wished Miguel was here or he hoped he'd never be found and could maybe even settle down and live a peaceful, quiet life.

It was getting boring here, so maybe it was time to rest, although Uladzislau wasn't sure if he wanted to let his guard down, these people hadn't shown any signs of unecessary violence, though they were captured with force, where he currently tired and bored, was a pretty relaxed place, although the more Uladzislau looked around the more he noticed this church was makeshift and although it appeared like a normal church, it wouldn't logically have existed for long down here, it likely had no connections to any religious leader, and was instead something else.

I resummon All-star to destroy the concrete around me.

Neito, realizing he is under attack, begins to use his swarm stand to pummel the concrete around him.

He managed to free himself by destroying the waist-high ground and leaping out, however his jump seemed to be incredibly stiff, as if he was weighed down. His mind was racing, and he was beginning to sink faster and faster.

This effect was... beyond confusing... there must be some way to stop it... right?

He thought about what the boy had said, "I sink, therefore I am" that was a play on an old quote Neito had heard before in his studies, "I think, therefore I am"... by a man named Réné Descartes, a french philosopher from the 1600s.

Perhaps that held some information on how to deal with the effect. Because, even though Neito had freed himself, every step he took, landed in the ground like it was soft mud, and sucked him in. Each yanking of his foot from the solid ground took more energy than the last.

He needed to either incapacitate, maybe even try to kill the child who had fled and was running faster than he could, or he had to find a peaceful way to evade and negate the effects.

He did notice, that the man who had been shredded by the chair, was now unconscious, perhaps dead, from blood loss.. He was no longer sinking. The granny had fainted and she was no longer sinking either... they were no longer... sinking... or thinking...

Neito then said ¨I get it now!¨ and after that phrase tried sleeping.