Open RP Ragnarök [Vol 1]

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Staff member

For weeks, months even, metahumans had been at the forefront of the news cycle. Wherever Freyja went, there were glaring headlines about the dangers of metas, the need for them in the face of metahuman criminals. And there was one in particular that had caught their eye: an armored warrior who used little more than her bare hands and flame to massacre dozens at the MYTHOMANE concert. There were various names given to her, none truly her own, and the lead singer of the band had apparently gone into hiding after this massacre, devastated by the event.

Things only became more interesting once a tape was released. Titled RAGNAROK [DEMO], it clearly featured audio taken from the concert, and her own voice made an appearance. It seemed that at least one person, this Lament figure, had understood her purpose, had spread her message, had been spared her wrath. But time had continued to crawl forward, and MYTHOMANE had been forgotten. She had been forgotten.

It was thus that Freyja left her apartment one day, intent on righting this wrong. She was clad simply, anonymously, in dark leggings and a hoodie, the hood pulled up tight, her only identifying mark the MYTHOMANE logo emblazoned on the back. Perhaps it would serve as a call to this Lament, or perhaps Freyja simply had a sense of humor. It was impossible to understand her expression beneath the black cloth mask covering the lower half of her face, her eyes set straight ahead as she strode through the streets with a purpose, pausing when she arrived at an intersection.

Freyja joined the crowd waiting by the crosswalk, taking note of the cars as they begrudgingly halted, their drivers impatiently glaring at the pedestrians as they trudged along the crosswalk, the majority cutting across the intersection itself to save time on their journey. Freyja was amongst them, hands shoved into her pockets as they approached the center, her wolfish smile hidden, her eyes beginning to blaze like fresh coals.

A massive wave of white-hot flame tore through the intersection, scorching vehicle and pedestrian alike. Some were fortunate enough to die instantly, blackened corpses smoldering silently. Others were not so lucky, massive burns covering their body, lessening in severity as their distance grew from her. Tires began to melt from the wave of heat, asphalt blistering and liquifying in various spots.

And in the center of the carnage Veljara stood. She towered over her victims, gilded armor reflecting the flickering light of the lingering flames, contrasted starkly with the dull ash of her skin, her horned helm adding another foot to her already intimidating height. Screams surrounded Veljara; screams of the dying, of the injured, of the terrified. Another scream joined the fray, that of tires against asphalt, rubber attempting to gain traction. One motorist had seen fit to race his car towards her in a futile attempt at escape. As the metal slammed into her, Veljara dug her claws in, muscles tightening and straining as she twisted the car’s own momentum against it, launching it up and over herself to crash against the half-melted asphalt with a horrifying crunch.

Veljara let out a scream of her own, a battle cry as she surveyed her handiwork, eyes locked upon the fleeing mortals. The flames crawled upward, climbing into her hand and coalescing into a brutal black-iron spear, one that she hefted with ancient familiarity before launching it towards the masses. Let the so-called heroes come to stop her, let them try. Perhaps she and sweet Vasia could truly cross blades once again. But for now,

Ragnarök var að koma.
Code by Reyn
Hey yall, the woman who fucked up the Mythomane concert is back! It's a pretty standard event, she's out here killing innocent people in very brutal ways, cars are flipped or trapped, there's gonna be stuff for both combatants and noncombatants alike. One character per person please, standard metagaming/godmodding rules apply, if you join you agree to the potential injury of your character, anything further will be discussed beforehand
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Sam was in her car when it started. She was far enough away from the blast to not be injured or have her car destroyed– thank god– but she was close enough to feel the heat when it came. It was hot. Not the hottest thing she’d ever been hit with, not like the molten glass she had caught in her bare hand, but hot enough to incinerate everything that was near her. There were charred bodies all around her, and people with full body burns, and the snow was gone, and everything was melting and–

And she had Kosuke in the fucking car with her. Sam knew who this was. She had seen the footage. This was the woman who had killed all those people at MYTHOMANE. She let her eyes flicker over to him for just a moment before she reached behind her and pulled her vigilante kit out of the back of the car. Her ribs were still healing from her fight with Spork, but she couldn’t sit by. Not on this.

She started to rip her clothes off, shedding the identifiable green sweater with its black spiral designs and her black leather jacket with the spikes and chains, and she threw both into the backseat, revealing her red and black body suit. She took in a sharp breath as the twisting pulled on her side, but she kept moving, now talking to Kosuke as she pulled pieces out of her bag.

“Kosuke, stay in the car, or better yet, fucking run. I don’t want you getting hurt, you’re kind of one of my only friends.”

She pulled the plain black leather jacket, the one with the Goretex layer, on over her suit. She reached down and stripped her boots off, taking her jeans off, revealing that the suit went all the way down to her ankles. She started pulling on the matching pants, the flameproof ones. For a moment she was glad she had all fireproof gear, to stop herself from melting it, because this would all be a bitch to scrape off otherwise.

“Do you understand me, Kosuke? Don’t you fucking dare get involved in this. I will not see you get hurt.”

She pulled her boots back on over the pants, and finally, pulled her hammer, mask, and hair tie from the bag. She quickly scooped her hair up into a fast bun, then strapped the mask into place. It did the bare minimum to hide her freckled face, but as she pulled the hood on her jacket up and over her head, at least her hair disappeared. It likely wouldn’t stay, but it was the best she could do given the circumstances. There was no time to pin it in place.

She wrapped the wristband of her all-metal hammer around her wrist and looked at Kosuke, waiting for him to confirm he would follow her instructions. Kosuke was just starting to become a good friend of hers, despite the fact that her vibe checker had no idea what to think of him.​

return of the valkyrie; a seized opportunity

The flames were bright. Very bright. Kosuke shielded his eyes as best he could once he saw the first blast, trying to stop it from searing his brain for the rest of the week. He pushed the sunglasses up over his face; deep metal sides, this time, after his encounter with Basilica. Thank god for that.

Once the grimace of discomfort had passed, the realisation of what had happened seemed to hit Kosuke like that car hit the syrupy pavement; flames, death, agony. The Valkyrie had returned. He tensed up, averting his gaze from the carnage that lay beyond the car. His posture had shrank- head down, back arched inwards, clutching his hands together so tightly he could break his own knuckles. There was that silence again. The one that absorbed the world around it like a black hole of sound, only breaking through once Sam decided to speak.

Kosuke looked up at her, expression unreadable.


His hand shot into motion, undoing the seatbelt and reaching for the glovebox in front of him- fast and frantic, yet with that same paradoxical control he showed when kicking his chair across the shop floor. Hands snapping to the right places, overshooting the mark by just enough that they hit the next one perfectly. He rummaged around in the glovebox for a bit, before his head snapped over to Sam once more.

"Knives, glass- anything sharp and light. Anything. I'll take scrap metal if you have it, I don't care- I don't care, I just need something I can throw."

He grit his teeth, and forced himself to slow down.

"I can't sit here, Sam. Not when it's her. I- you know I can't."

He sighed.

"Crowd control, alright? I'm not stupid enough to engage, but- maybe, if I can get people out of the way..."
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The campaign was taking its toll on him.

Night after night, the World hunted, but the prey had adapted. Maybe he'd taken out the easy ones - or maybe the smart ones had learned not to congregate in their usual spaces. The city felt the same, if not worse. He'd lost his old identity when he'd been arrested, and no longer had any job to speak of, forcing him to resort to robbery to sustain his operation. He thought of it more like requisitioning supplies, though, as a general might do. Global teleportation meant that he could live out of any hotel room he chose, and leave if the staff caught on. He lived spartan, still returning to Pittsburgh each night. That was his city - the start of the project (the campaign).

He didn't often appear in the daytime. There wasn't often occasion to. He wasn't asked for. He had saved the mayor of the entire city, and hadn't even been given a mention in his follow-up speech. Of course, Randall understood why. It'd be unpopular with the masses. The same masses who were in danger now.

He would not abandon them.

The valkyrie had returned. He knew of her fearsome reputation by way her remorseless slaughter of innocents at a concert - a brutal whirlwind of violence and flame.


The World emerged behind Veljara with small rush of air as the oxygen around his arrival point was displaced.


Staying at range - she had just flipped a car over her head with barely any effort, fuck - he expertly raised a shotgun and fired it as many times as he could in quick succession, aiming to blast her in the back before retreating to a vantage point atop a nearby skyscraper to reload. A hit-and-run tactic that would take full advantage of his ability to teleport, as he knew full well that one swing of her sword could end him.

They would say a lot about him - but this was his city now, and he would show no fear in defending it from senseless mayhem. From evil.

There was a moment where Sam looked between Valkyrie and Kosuke with a moment of frustration. Then she leaned toward the backseat and flipped up the back seat behind Kosuke, revealing the secret compartment under the backseat. There was her old hammer, the one from before Nat had made her a new one, as well as a collection of knives and a set of kunai. She looked at Kosuke, pointing her finger at him.

“Only the knives. Don’t touch those kunai, those are– it doesn’t matter what they are, just don’t touch them. Stick to crowd control, for the love of god, Kosuke, do not get hurt.”

Then, she hopped out of the driver’s side door as people ran past them. She was getting ready to move, to run head-first toward the giant woman with her spear, when something happened. Loud shots rang out across the streets and people began to move more frantically at the sound. Phoenix cracked her neck and started running.​
"GET DOWN!" The Upbeat Undead shouted as he tackled a woman to narrowly avoid the massive eruption of flame that tore through the small bakeshop. He had been scrolling through social media when his Zombie Sense started tingling and a good thing it did since he was moments away from getting his corpse-ass cremated. The roar of fire died down as quickly as it came, replaced by the screams of the panicked populous who were under siege from yet another mass murdering monster.

"Get in their walk-in cooler and wait till the coast is clear, then make a break for it." The woman was too stunned to speak so she just did as she was told. He was starting to get a reputation around town as a hero you could trust, even though they still couldn't get his name right. The newest one was Devil Junior (which was incredibly offensive since he didn't even look like a child). "God, every villain just wants to kill a buncha people these days. Nobody has any originality anymore." He drew both his pistols, took a deep breath, and then popped up to survey the situation.

He was a good distance away from the woman who stood in what he could only assume was Ground Zero. The area directly around her seemed like it got cooked almost instantly. Cars were reduced to burnt out husks that had sunk into the bubbling asphalt but, it wasn't consistent with a proper explosion. She probably did some kind of pyromancy. He'd have to get closer to get more data.

He strode out of a portal just in time to watch the Vengeful Valkyrie flip a whole ass car with her bare hands...this was gonna be a long one.
"Before I put you on Ice do you have any demands I can ignore? No? Great!" He caught of a glimpse of The World who unloaded three shots from a standard pump action shotgun and he attempted to follow that up by hopefully splitting her attention. He let loose an alternating barrage of shots from Lefty and Righty. As long as he kept alternating left, right, left, right, left, right, than the spray of bullets would keep coming. Hopefully preventing her from letting loose another blast of pyrokinetic power.
"No kunai, alright."

There was a hint of reluctance in his voice. Not quite bitterness, he wasn't that childish, but he seemed a little disappointed. Kunai would've been ideal, but the knives would suffice. He took as many as he could and shoved them into his jacket, hiding them in all the places he wasn't already hiding the throwing knives of his own. Knives, Sam's knives, tazer, and a speaker; he had left his gun with the bike back at VULTURE, like a fucking idiot. He'd ask what the kunai were once this was over, providing they made it back alive.

Kosuke stepped out of the car, scowling as the heat of naked flame hit him on exit. He stepped on something--a fragment of black fabric--and looked down to see what it was. Screen printed on the back was a word, all caps with a square font: "MYTHOMANE". He winced.

"Crowd control, mm?" He muttered to himself and anyone who could hear him, "Sounds easy enough. Crowd control, you can do this."

He set off; drifting to the edge of the flames, keeping cover behind whatever he could find.

People ran like cattle, stampeding their fellows in an effort to get away from the burning valkyrie. Whether they remembered her prior massacre or not, they knew to run from her now. Her spear punched through the chest of a fleeing woman with a sickening crunch before impaling the man running just ahead of her. With a sickly wet sound the weapon ripped itself from his chest and flew back to Veljara’s hand. The gore sizzled and burned away from the heat of the spear and of the warrior clutching it. A pity, it would seem that none of the assembled would stand against her.

The air shifted behind her, and three loud cracks echoed through the intersection. Veljara turned in time to see a figure vanish, a weapon clutched within his hand. Metal crashed and scattered along the back of her armor, denting and punching through in some places, the shot digging into her flesh. Veljara hissed in pain as she scanned the area for the man, but it appeared as though he was a
, and would no doubt strike again while she was distracted. Hot liquid ran in rivulets down her back from the entrance wounds; not the blood of a valkyrie, but the remnants of the pellets that had embedded themselves within her.

A voice called out to her, one filled with arrogance. It appeared she had drawn some vigilantes after all, although this one appeared to be either
. Skin the color of the night sky, pale hair, and noticeable horns, he called to her before firing more weapons. Were there none who chose the weapon of the warrior, or was Pittsburgh simply protected by cowards? Pain flared, but Veljara felt no resulting injury. Pain was an old friend. She was a warrior, a slayer, a valkyrie. Pain was a comfort.

With a cry, Veljara launched her spear at the
, intent on catching him in the abdomen and letting him slowly die, watching as she surged forwards, towards another victim who had been caught within her flames. They were horribly burned, dragging themselves along the melting asphalt in a feeble attempt to escape. Veljara simply brought an armored boot down on their head, bursting it like an overripe watermelon.

Movement caught her predatory gaze. One, a familiar figure, clad in black, slinking along the edge of her arena. She met the gaze of Vanity, of the man who had been at her last slaughter. Perhaps he would enjoy an encore. Another figure approached, more interesting, clad in red and wielding a pale imitation of Mjölnir. Veljara stood her ground as the figure approached.

“Are you one of the supposed heroes of this land?”
Her gauntleted hands flexed, her voice echoing from beneath her helmet. She desired a real challenge.
Code by Reyn

As Phoenix approached, the Valkyrie addressed her. That surprised her for a moment, but she didn’t let it slow down her approach. Already, she had killed so many people, and Phoenix couldn’t afford to give her any space to kill anyone else. She smiled and beneath her black domino mask, something shifted in her eyes and they glinted gold. She could feel that rage, building deep inside her, and she tried to swallow it down.

Phoenix was, as she had told others before, a predator of predators. She targeted people who thought they could use the power they wielded to hurt others, meta or not. And right now, right in front of her, was a monster. Phoenix had long since given up the notion that all monsters deserved second chances. That had died with Alice, had died with Connor when she had thrown a hammer through his skull.

She had adopted a strict no-kill policy almost a year ago when she realized how far gone she had become. When she had realized just how right Joshie was. That didn’t stop the rage from returning every time she picked up her hammer. That didn’t stop the rage from returning when she had to face down a predator. And as she watched Valkyrie crush a man’s head beneath her boot, the rage she normally kept locked under chain and key began to shake. It begged to be let loose, to be free to take on this woman made of fire.

Instead, Phoenix smiled and with a voice heavy with a rasp, she called out, “I don’t know if I can claim that, but I’m more than happy to take you on.”

She closed the ground between them and pushed off the ground, using her heat to propel her up, swinging her hammer above her head. She lept just high enough to get a good few feet above the woman’s head. Then, she flipped, flipping her hammer around so the studded side was out, and pulled it with her in an arc. She aimed to bring it down on the woman’s helmet, but tensed up, bracing for impact with either the ground or the woman’s armored gauntlet. Her ribs had just finished mending and still hurt like a bitch, and surely any real hit to them would crack them again and make this twice as hard.​
Connors ears perked, the sounds were distant and almost lost in the din of the city at first, but then they came again and there was no mistaking it. Explosions, or at least it sounded like it, screaming. He stood up on the hill where he had taken rest, just not long ago having taken a meal of a freshly hunted buck; his teeth still stained with its blood.

He sniffed, he smelt fire. Care crash? No, there was no smell of gasoline. Gunshots rang out. Gang fight maybe. In broad daylight was different. A marinade of smells reached his nose. Fire, blood, burning flesh, rotting flesh - old and putrid - all of them strange and unfamiliar. Something in Connor's chest pinged danger, that whatever was going on he should stay out of. Then he heard more screams, and he felt uncertain... they didn't need him, a monster, he wasn't cut out for the proper vigilante stuff that other Metas got up to. He'd almost convinced himself to turn away when a faint smell struck out amongst all the chaos.

Just the barest hint of cinnamon.

Connor's hand whipped around as he realized all at once Sam was there, he whistled in a short burst and in a moment Mac and Brian were at his side. He no longer questioned himself as he locked in Sam's scent and started running towards the chaos

The fighter denied her heroism, instead simply choosing to accept the challenge of fighting the harbinger. Veljara didn’t mind this. She was a way to sharpen her skills, and perhaps once she crossed paths with dear Vasia she would be ready for it. The girl charged, soaring into the air and hefting her pitiful mockery of Mjölnir, an ugly weapon made of rough-hewn metal, one head flat while the other was barbed. A crude weapon for a crude warrior.

As she fell, her hammer swinging to strike true, Veljara moved. A fresh spear appeared within her hand, which she spun expertly, clasped in both hands, and brought up to meet the hammer with a sharp ring. The spear’s haft clashed where the hammer’s head met its body and Veljara simply sighed.

“Brutal, but utterly ineffective.”
She said dismissively.

The valkyrie twisted and used the interlocked weapons to fling the girl to the ground behind her, a hand raised in her direction, Veljara’s head half-turned.

A gout of flame roared from her hands, orange and yellow and red tendrils seeking to consume the one who thought they could stand to Veljara, who thought they could keep her from her sacred task, who thought they could face her in combat and survive.
Code by Reyn

Instead of either of the things she was preparing for, the woman locked their weapons and threw her to the ground. Phoenix managed to keep a grasp on her hammer, pulling it free with her as she twisted to land on the ground in a crouch. She balanced herself, looking up at the giant woman again. She was about to call out a witty retort when she saw the hand raise against her. She started to brace– until she saw flames erupt from the woman’s hands.

Phoenix smiled and stood up slowly as the blaze hit her. Her hood was ripped back and started to burn. It crisped to an ash, but the rest of her clothes held. The clothes, designed to not burn when she turned the heat up. So much for hiding her hair. God, she was really getting worse at this whole hiding and protecting her identity thing.

As the flames whipped around her, Phoenix moved forward in slow steps, swinging her now burning-hot hammer in a twirl. “I’m sure that usually works for you, but you’re going to have to do better than that, Valkyrie.”

As she moved closer, a grin overcame her face, and that thing in her eyes glinted again. She turned quickly in a spin, extending the hammer to try and catch the Norse warrior in her side.