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Messages - Janus Rogo

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The noodly bastard stole my idea. Janus thought to himself. He'd tracked his movements across the arena, floating across the ground, ensuring Budonoki stayed opposite the lava from him. Seeing the man scamper up and crack the side of the Volcano was irritating, to say nothing else. He'd planned to crack it open, in a pinch, but Budo had beaten him to the punch, so to speak.

Then he decided to continue making the same mistake. Hey, if they're gonna give you the chance....

Janus planted his feet. He saw the staff coming. He took his front hand off the rifle, stepped sideways, focused, and with the free hand, he directed an intensely powerful jet of air into the pit of lava before him. There was enough force to peel the first few feet up and spray it across the arena. Right at Budo. If they're not gonna fall into your trap, bring the trap to them.

Action Tracker:
▫ [ACTION: Vectored Thrust.]
  ▫[DAMAGE: 2% per round. 5 rounds total. 10% possible, 4% likely.
  ▫[DAMAGE: 20% Lava Spray
▫ [Ammo Status: ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇(80%)
▫ [The Tyrant is in it's primary, Battle Rifle form.
▫ [Aura Status: ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇(100%)]

Approved Characters / Re: Draíochta Anam
« on: August 05, 2018, 12:38:22 PM »
Get on our Discord, as well. Makes contact and discussion about your character considerably easier.

Janus watched, bemusedly behind his helmet at the series of acrobatic flips the older Faunus performed in a flamboyant return to his starting point. Impressive. Indicative of a fair amount of physical training. His flips let him get a better look at his equipment, too, which looked to be... Some kind of a stick? A tree branch? Hard to say, although, knowing how Hunters tended to equip themselves in a manner that aligned with their Semblances, their Styles, or their Tastes, it was a safe assumption that this guy would engage him with something related to nature.

Suddenly, almost as if a bomb went off, the arena seemed to change. An electricity seemed to spread through the air, as Budonoki shot towards him. Towards the volcanic hellscape he was standing on, with the pits of lava all around him.

A wise man once said "Never interrupt your enemy when they're making a mistake."

But that doesn't mean you can't make the mistake worse.

Janus braced, then rocketed sideways, his rifle fluidly snapping into his shoulder as he skated just above the ground. He didn't even bother to look down the sights, relying instead on the natural feel of the rifle, of the decades of practice with it, as he sent a series of hammered pairs at his opponent, merely to distract, maybe get lucky on a hit. The mercenary came to a sudden, sharp stop, with a blast of air scattering ash, leaving a pit of lava between him and the apparently melee oriented Professor.

Action Tracker:
▫ [ACTION: Aggressive Repositioning.]
  ▫[DAMAGE: 2% per round. 6 rounds total. 12% possible, 4% likely.
▫ [PASSIVE EFFECT: Thrust ~ Jet Skate] Janus' use of his semblance to avoid contact with the ground increases his speed while keeping him out of range of the Lava.
▫ [The Tyrant is in its primary, Battle Rifle form.]
▫ [Ammo Status: ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇(90%)
▫ [Aura Status: ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ (100%)]

Janus Rogo. The Jet Knight. Specialist-par-excellence.

The Butcher of Tenang Bay.

Of course that'd be the one that would stick with him for the rest of his life. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the announcements went on, mind wandering to distant shores, screams, and sorrows. Dozens of years of service, of protecting Atlas, of protecting Remnant, and here was all that could be said about him. A criminal.

How dare they!, the thought came unbidden, more a voice whispering in his ears. His Aura pulsed and a wave of pressure radiated off him, spreading down the hall. What do they know? He could feel the weight of the Tyrant behind him. He could smell the ash in the winter air. He could- He could fill the whole world wi-

"Enooouuugh!", he growled. His attention centered. The world seemed to rush back in on him. Deep breaths... Deep... Breaths....

Home. The scents of a smokey winter rushed in to greet him. He could sense the eerie silence beyond the doors, his presence might've been a bad idea, in hindsight, but it was too late to pull out now. All he had to do was win. Hell, he didn't even need the win, he just needed to not kill a bunch of people, again. Be polite. Be professional. Have a plan to- *~CLUNK~*

The doors swung open. Rogo, the Butcher, stepped forward. The man was clad in his old tactical battle rattle, once stark white, now worn down to slate gray. Aesthetics were gone, but, despite the pockmarks and furrows, the effectiveness was not. The helm under his arm was polished to a dull bronze dome. The straps and underarmor were essentially molded to him, as long as he'd been wearing the gear, and felt like little more than more skin. He scanned the Knights immediately. There was no way the Military, or just about anyone, really, would try and pull something here. Too much attention on the world stage. Too much Specialized attention. The arena's terrain spinner had somewhat favored him, too. His opponent's side was rife with elevation shifts and cover, while his own had some gnarly surface hazards in the lava. An idea flickered across his mind when he saw the volcano, one that'd come in handy if his foe had the right style of combat. Speak of the devil... A scrawny... monk? Janus didn't recognize him, but he was certainly a sight.

And a Faunus. Again with this, great.

At least this one seemed polite.

Rogo's boots left the ground. The rush of air scattered the smoke and ash around him as he slowly rose towards the cliff. He hovered just out of reach of Budonoki for a moment, staring him down. He could feel the Tyrant hanging on his back. The old, heavy battle rifle seemed to shiver with excitement. All he had to do was pivot forward, spin the rifle around. He'd catch the old man off guard, put the bayonet through him! Push the attack, rush him, AGGRESS!

Janus Rogo drifted slightly forward and clasped Budonoki's arm in his.

"A good sentiment, sir. Best of luck here.", he said over the roar of the volcano, before releasing his grip and floating back down to his entry point. He landed, donning the helmet, and unslinging the Tyrant. The mercenary raised a fist in salute of his opponent, took a deep breath, and prepared for the war.

Everywhere Else / Re: Shiver [Closed]
« on: July 12, 2018, 08:45:25 PM »
The florally clad mercenary shrugged.

"Something like that." he said. "For now, just consider me an... Adventurer? Wanderer?"

Janus pulled a partial loaf of bread out of the pantry, squeezing it with a frown, before discarding it. "An Investigator." Momentarily he settles on a can of beans, stepping away from the pantry and up to the small island in the middle of it. He glanced between the two women, then shrugged. "Investigator should be juuust fine, for now. I'd rather not have to dip into the other names, so, please, ladies, mind your manners?"

He unslung his rifle, setting it flat in front of him. He gestured for the other two to do the same.

"Lets all just relax a little. Enjoy the fruits of someone else's labors. Judging by the state of things, I doubt they'll be back anytime soon."

Approved Characters / Re: Chantou Rou
« on: July 10, 2018, 11:08:33 AM »

MiA Characters / Re: Akane Tozawa
« on: July 01, 2018, 07:03:04 PM »
This character needs more work to her. She's a dropout with excessively high levels of skill in every area related to being a Huntress. Maybe her history could offset the lack of education, but you mention only that she was taught Doctory/Massage stuff growing up. Said parents being skilled enough to train her in Aura techniques suitable for a combat academy needs to be explained, since right now it seems way out of place. "She does whatever she wants" is not a good profession. Maybe expand on that as well, especially if she intends to continue eating large meals. Personality is nonsensical to me, having a calm, focused, but rebellious, spunky meditative  glutton seems to be a bit unfocused, however I'll defer to my peers in that aspect. Can she aim in Supercell form?

Combat behavior is all over the place as well. The whole first paragraph and about half the second is a bitch to make sense of for no reason. It basically says "She's very focused and very swordy", near as I can tell. Shit doesn't need to read like a college thesis.

To your credit, I have nothing to say about the weaponry chosen. Fairly unremarkable, but there's nothing wrong with that.

Biggest issues I'm seeing, to sum up, are the skill level not reflecting her upbringing and dropout status, her combat behavior is excessively wordy and lacking weaknesses for a half-trained Huntress, and I'd like some.more info on the Frostbite, or to see it replaced with something known to us. Also the parts of the history where "the Kingdoms didn't know what to do" so they rely on a couple dropouts aggravates me. I'll look at that next time if it hasn't changed.

Huntsman Bracket: Janus Rogo

Everywhere Else / Re: Shiver [Closed]
« on: June 14, 2018, 07:12:10 AM »
A response to the first girl died in his mouth as the second, younger girl appeared. His glance took in what he needed to see, just as well as with Nebu. Her remarks, her apparent age, indicated a particularly oblivious student. Well equipped, sure, with who knows what for a semblance, but she wasn't likely to have much experience with it. He held the look for a beat, then his attention shifted again. A broad grin spread across his face as he gestured for the others to come in. He moved into the kitchen area, sparing one more glance for the older woman. Nothing more than a friendly smile and implicit violence.

"Come on, come in, girls. No, I don't have any idea what's up with this town. Weird, though, isn't it?", he said, poking through a pantry. "So, I know one of you is a student, but I'm not too sure for the other. Private sector? Contractor?"

Everywhere Else / Re: Shiver [Closed]
« on: May 24, 2018, 11:01:47 AM »

The water sputtered momentarily, then stopped. Annoyed, Janus jiggled the handles, then sighed. With a simple gesture from his hand, most of the remaining water was blasted off his body. A rush of wind swirled around the bathroom, scattering small objects throughout it. So the water was out now, too. Weird. Given the condition of the rest of the town, it wasn't likely to have failed this soon, unless it was related to the reason the water failed?

He knelt down, rifling through the drawers beneath the sink, pulling out a towel to finish drying off. On the back of the door hung a small, floral bathrobe, with the letters M.D embroidered on the back. It looked cheap, he thought, as he rubbed the fabric between his fingers, and he was almost certain the letters were done by hand. It was a solid job, actually. Janus was shook out of his stupor as the Tyrant slowly slid over, clattering to the floor of the tub. He slipped into the robe, rubbing at the scruff on his face as he scooped up the rifle, slinging it over his shoulder. Back in the real world, he could hear an engine approaching. Something deep, bit of power definitely, but not heavy. He'd be able to pick out anything used by Atlas Forces and anyone good enough to track him through the wastes wouldn't have made so simple a mistake as driving up to him. So it was someone unrelated. Returning populace? They'll probably be pissed about the door, he mused. Best to get ready for them.

He exited the bathroom and found himself staring at Nebu. He stiffened, but didn't freeze, coming off as a slight hitch in his step. This one wasn't a local, or at least this wasn't her home; too concerned with the surroundings, not with who was out of place. Young, but not a student. Non-regulation cut, so not military. Weird armor, too. Non-standard, but well made. Corporate? Moot.

He didn't move for his rifle, yet. But the Tyrant was still there. Hiding behind one of the most infamous Huntsmen alive.

"You're not supposed to be here.", he said, lightly.

Plot Zone / Re: Proving Gus Wrong
« on: May 15, 2018, 06:51:35 PM »
If I don't have to squint to see the reason and it's a fairly plausible one, then sure, bring whichever student. This isn't a signup thread, either. This is the fuckin brochure. First come, first serve.

Plot Zone / Proving Gus Wrong
« on: May 15, 2018, 11:38:20 AM »
And also a bitch.

So, I need a student or two for Shiver. It's set in some distant, tiny Atlas village, removed from most civilization. Investigative horror thread, mostly. Exposition for some stuff, too. Not likely to be much combat between Hunters, not likely to be much against Grimm. Probably. If you wanna join, make sure your first post has a solid list of gear and equipment the characters are carrying, if anything's noteworthy. Dust reserves, ammo supplies, stuff like that.

Everywhere Else / Shiver [Closed]
« on: May 10, 2018, 08:40:49 AM »

When -if- you need to, where do you go to ground?

Hiding is difficult, when you need to do it well. Any average joe can tuck themselves away in the woods, keep their head down, hope for the best. Maybe find a small village on the other side of Remnant, grow a beard, fuck some natives. Hell, they could even stay in the area they're supposed to be avoiding, hide in plain sight. There's a thousand ways to disappear, especially if you're just some face in the crowd.

But a Huntsman? Oh, that's an entirely different ballgame.

You see, it's easy to gloss over normal crimes. Even something as big as murder, if you're a normal person, can be escaped with enough distance. You don't have to worry too much about who's hunting you once you're off the radar. Either you'll survive, or a Huntsman will kick in your door, and there's little you can do at that point. But when a Huntsman is the criminal? Things escalate, rapidly. Responses that would be out of the question for a normal person become valid. Responses like Teams hunting you down, military forces, law enforcement cordons, mercenaries, all of that. A Huntsman stands out, whether they want to or not. They carry themselves differently. They fight differently. If they're smart, they'll keep their gear, so when a response does come, they'll be at least somewhat prepared. Somewhat is subjective, of course, depending on what's coming for you. If an Atlesian Warship bombards your hidey-hole, you're probably only going to be able to do so much.

Mobility is the trick, really. Staying in one place for too long will lead your foes to you, let them find you. If they find you, things get messy. You have to run, or fight. Or run and fight. If you keep from settling down long enough, even as a Huntsman, your pursuers will give up on finding you. You can eventually slow, you can eventually, maybe, even stop. Now, staying mobile can call attention to you, if you do it wrong. The stranger your locale to you, the stranger you seem to the locals. So there's really only one solid place to go to ground.


Janus Rogo was finally slowing down. In the year since he inadvertently helped in a White Fang plot in Vale, he'd been on the run. He had no real way of knowing who had recognized him that day, beyond the fact that he'd been chosen for a reason. A fall guy, if he'd been unlucky or unskilled enough. Who would question the Butcher of Tenang Bay being implicated in another Faunus massacre? Clever, really. Easy, too. And Janus, in all his decades of training, experience, intellect, had immediately taken the bait. Idiot.


He glanced around, making sure no one had heard him. Frigid plains, sparse fauna, and zero people, as far as the eye could see. Well, as far as most eyes could see. Janus could pick out a couple distant storms, little more than small flurries, white mountains, and straight ahead... A small village. No more than twenty buildings. Probably a dozen or so families in it. Old school prefabricated structures had been covered with homely coats of paint, windows were cut into them. Standard non-standard upgrades. Just little touches to make a bleak expanse seem a little more like a warm home. He pulled the coat around him tighter. The Tyrant, stretched into spear form, scraped the ground behind him. It sounded eager, almost. A grating, slow chuckle. Janus banished the thought and pulled the lance up, out of reach of the tundra beneath him. His boots crunched through permafrost, a steady path of prints trailed off behind him, connecting to yet another rinky-dink township. His pack was lighter than when he'd left. Rationed food was running low, ammo wasn't quite as plentiful. Most charged equipment was thoroughly drained. He wiped his face, feeling the days-old scruff on his face. Maybe a nice inn? Hot shower, a shave, quick night's rest? That's usually how things went these days.

His approach to this one was different. No one hailed him, no one tried to search him for weapons or goods, or anything. No one did anything. In fact, near as Janus could tell, no one was standing watch. The town couldn't be deserted, not with lights in the windows. Generators were still running. No signs of combat, either. Everything was intact. An evacuation would see power grids shut off, or a cordon placed if the Military had been involved. Raiders wouldn't have left anything nailed down and he could still see vehicles secured in a garage.

The Tyrant came out, snapping together as he transitioned it into it's rifle form. He slowly ran his hand down the length of the weapon, the sound tickled something in the back of his mind. A little voice saying Grimm. The mercenary grimaced as the thought fled his mind and he smacked the side of the rifle, clearing a chunk of frost from it. With the weapon high in the pocket of the shoulder, he made his approach, sweeping his gaze back and forth. No one- nothing outside. No people, no pets, no signs, just wind and cold. He shivered, then stepped off to what seemed a family domicile. A thermal lamp hung from the front of the structure, under it, a few plants spun in the outside air, not enough to eat off of, but enough to use in spices or decoration. Homely.

A quick look through the entry's portal didn't show any movement, nothing responded when he knocked on the door. Annoyed, he spun the rifle around and smashed the handle off, booting it down the street. He shouldered the rest of the way through the door with ease. Metal snapped and twisted as he walked in. The heat was still on. No signs of struggle and as he took in the family room, he noticed an old shotgun laying on the mantle, unused. He frowned and continued through the house. A dining area, a bedroom, a closet, another bedroom, a- oooh. Janus stopped. He stood at the entrance to the bathroom. Toilet paper, hot water, fluffy towels! Forgetting himself, Janus leaned his rifle inside the shower, shed the armor and clothing, and ran the water onto full heat.

It was glorious.

Approved Characters / Re: Rogo, Janus
« on: May 08, 2018, 10:29:27 PM »
Age increase, history expanded slightly, weapon changed from Gauntlets to Spear alternate form.

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