【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
It has recently come to our attention that many of our guests have not been focusing on their health and wellness. In an effort to encourage healthy living and help our beloved guests get in shape, a grand sports festival will be held in the Golden Peacock. This sports festival will include many small games and four large games.
Prior to the festival, guests will have the opportunity to train and prepare for the games with our expert coaches.
We hope you are as excited as we are! And, as always, we hope you enjoy your stay. 】
BEAK
MEET THE TEAM
♦ DIAMONDS GAME ♦
OMEGADOME: HUNTING GAME
A cheerful pair of game managers stand outside the conservatory doors and block all guests that try to enter. They quickly explain that a special Diamonds game is taking place inside and only guests that agree to participate may enter. This game is a physical exercise that riffs on "Hunting", which is a popular sport in many different countries and civilizations. Of course, it is one hundred percent safe, and all guests that play are eligible to win massive chip prizes, store vouchers, fabulous prizes, and more.
Details about the game? Those can't be shared outside of the conservatory. Only the brave and those willing to risks will reap the benefits of this Diamonds game. So step right up, dear guests, and sign this waiver before stepping into the flourishing beauty of the conservatory for a brand new adventure.
♥ HEARTS GAME ♥
DOUBLES' THERMO: SURVIVAL GAME
Chickadees is sparing no expense on advertising their e-sport games over the course of the sports festival. Posters, notifications, stickers, fliers! Come one, come all. Sports don't need to be physical. Guests that duck into the arcade will find a variety of e-sport games to enjoy, but the real showstopper that every single employee is aggressively promoting is the new immersive VR game, DOUBLES' THERMO.
A large swath of egg-shaped pods have been installed in the back half of Chickadees. Any guest that shows an iota of interest will be assaulted by employees encouraging them to give it a try. They will offer vouchers for a free session, encourage with mentions of prizes that can be won from the arcade's coveted prize wall, and persuade by praising how high tech and immersive the experience is. Some employees are desperate enough to trick or push guests into the pods if they aren't willing to go in themselves.
However they've ended up inside the VR egg, guests will find themselves submerged in strange fluid as the lid closes. Everything fades away into darkness as the game loads...
♣ CLUBS GAME ♣
QUACK AND COVER: SHOOTING GAME
Cloaca & Dagger has temporarily outfitted itself as a neon-bright paintball course. Gone are the wild sex setups in exchange for series of obstacles and obstructions for guests to navigate while in pursuit of paintball championship. This high intensity game of strategy and physical fitness promises to exhilarate! Welcome to Quack and Cover, a game where your shooting skills and ingenuity will be put to the test.
So say the game managers at the door before following up with a few disclaimers. Cloaca & Dagger is not responsible for any physical or psychological trauma guests may incur while inside. Guests that join the game will then be outfitted in tight black underarmor and supplied with a paintball gun and protective mask before being let loose on the course.
♠ SPADES GAME ♠
PECKING ORDER: MMA GAME
During night hours, many long-standing guests make their way through Talon toward the gym’s creaky basement stairs. Three floors down and then through a desolate hallway with littered with abandoned equipment. Double doors wait at the end, unassuming until they’ve been opened…
Flashing lights, jeers, and the thick odor of sweat. You’ve found the Pecking Order, a late-night mixed martial arts event where guests show their prowess in the ring. Spectating guests shout and messily eat snacks on make-shift bleachers while fighters clash inches away, using only their bodies to fight for dominance and win. Pecking Order is very informal; guests only need to sign up in order to get added to the docket. Anyone can watch, though they will be vaguely warned at the door that even spectating comes with risks.
LOCKER ROOMS
YOU WASH MY BACK, I'LL WASH YOURS
Every training and game location has a door labeled LOCKER ROOM right outside the entrance. These doors all connect to the same massive locker room. The magic of these locker room doors goes one way. Trying to go back to the place you just were by backtracking will not work — you’ll just end up in Beak! All guests will be advised to finish their games before hitting the showers.
The Golden Peacock is proud to present our upgraded and extended locker room. Please come in and enjoy the facilities, catch-up with your teammates, and enjoy some healthy drinks provided by our favorite resort convenience store, Cock-a-doodle-doo’s!
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's March event.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
[ Tomura doesn't really crave the ring. He relishes in the violence: the rush of adrenaline, the pounding of blood, the feeling of breaking something again, finally, beneath his own hands. But, here, there's a feeling of pointlessness to it. There's no significance to this fight, there's nothing to be gained—it's only a spectacle, a performance for the jeering crowd, sequestered away in this grimy, dirt-stained basement. It's simultaneous fulfillment and boredom, the war between the two, that keeps him here after he's gotten the first initial taste of battle. How much more does he want to vent and exert in this senseless dance of flying fists, dutifully limiting himself to this tête-à-tête to entertain their distasteful audience?
Ah. He would much rather kill everyone in this room.
As if perfectly timed to curb that spark of bloodlust, the crowd shifts again, and the spotlight returns to him where he'd slunk back against the shadows of the wall. He's shirtless by choice, clad in a pair of calf-length track pants and nothing else. The shoes had been lost some time earlier. His hair—this time not by his own doing—has been pulled into a half-undone bun, and in a rare moment of suppression, he actually shows signs of injury: blossoming green and purple bruises, smears of scabbed-over blood. His eyes track the length of the spotlight to find the other party being ushered into the makeshift ring of people. ]
... You're next, huh?
[ This is a face he doesn't know. Depending on the type of person this opponent is, Tomura might feel like killing him—or not. ]
[ up until this point, blade had been lucky enough to avoid the pointed gaze of the bloodthirsty crowd. he looks like the fighting type, he's been told, although he doesn't necessarily take pleasure in violence for no purpose—just that looking like he does, scarred and bandaged, is enough to turn him into a candidate for the almost gladiatorial matches taking place in the center of the room. it's for that reason that it doesn't even surprise him when the spotlight comes to rest on him. his luck could only last so long.
forced into the ring of people, blade regards his opponent cooly, taking in the bruises and the blood and, critically, the nearly unconcerned way he regards blade in turn. if there were fear in his gaze blade might consider throwing the fight, but he can see none, only a curious mix of boredom and adrenaline. ]
So it would seem. [ blade, too, has tied the long length of his hair up and out of the way, to make it a less attractive handhold. he removes his shirt next, revealing the deep scarring that criss-crosses his torso and the bandages wrapped around his abdomen, although the wounds under them have more or less healed. ] Are you here by choice?
[ whether or not he likes it is a separate question and not an easy one to answer, but it's important to blade at least that he know his opponent is here consentingly. ]
[ Tomura knows better than to underestimate an opponent based on appearances, but acting without making use of the information in front of him could also be foolishness. At a mere glance, the man singled out by the announcer seems slender and elegant, not a build that would have Tomura pegging him as a brawler. But whatever his niche, this is someone who has clearly seen battle: the scarring and bandaging he reveals beneath his shirt, his cool and collected response to being chosen indicate as much. Regardless, neither combat experience nor confidence intimidate Tomura; the diversity of skill is even more exaggerated in this bizarre hotel, so a self-assured opponent could wind up being a disappointment just as often as they delivered on their attitude.
There really is only one way to find out. ]
I don't need that from you. I'm willing enough.
[ He steps away from the wall as the crowd parts a path to the ring, his trajectory taking him close to and then past his opponent. The man would find no trace of the anxieties that wrack those unwilling combatants here: Tomura's tone is low and even, and despite his slouched posture, there's no hesitation in his long, languid steps. Once he makes it to the stage, he crosses over to the far side, leaving his opponent to take the other end. The crowd hollers and jeers as the announcer introduces each side: Shigaraki on the left and Blade on the right.
What a name, Tomura thinks as he settles himself on his side. He wonders if it's an alias: it reminds him of the names picked out by heroes and villains—symbolic, edgy—like they were all playing out the stories of comic books. Not that it matters here; backstory is just a distraction in a fight. ]
Ready when you are.
[ —in mock courtesy. The rare grin slices his features, slight but anticipatory. While he shows little change in stance, remaining standing with his arms dangling loosely at his sides, he's prepared for whatever "Blade" wants to show him—and ready to respond, though hinted only in the harsh flex of his fingers. ]
[ it's the confidence in his opponent's demeanor that convinces blade, more so than the words he speaks. anyone can lie well, but it's much more difficult to hide the tell-tale signs of fear: a tremor in the hands, a dilation in the pupil. this other man approaches, crosses behind him with a grace not unlike a prowling panther, and blade turns his head, but not his body, to track the other man's movements around the ring. ]
Very well. [ his shirt discarded, blade curls his hands into loose fists and shakes out what he can of the ache that plagues them. hand-to-hand combat isn't exactly his forte, but he'd arrived here without his sword and he wears the bracelet that stops him from using the power granted by his path—so fighting with fists becomes his only option. ] Do your worst.
[ through the moment of introductions, blade is largely still, his flat gaze assessing as it rests on his opponent—shigaraki, says the announcer. blade tries to commit it to memory, thinking that whatever violence they do to each other here, it will be good to know someone who can fight—although his memory being what it is, he can't be sure the name will stick.
some things, though, are muscle memory. such is the way blade's fists come up just before the starting bell rings, and the way that the instant he hears that clang echo in the air, blade jolts immediately into motion. no breathless moment spent waiting for his opponent to make a move; no, he moves with superhuman speed, crossing the ring in no time, hoping to catch shigaraki off-guard as he's buffeted by a flurry of punches. ]
[ Over the course of his matches, Tomura has fought a variety of people. The vast majority seemed to be experienced in some kind of way, and they were divided into the ones who seemed to have training, but no real combat history, and those whose abilities seemed to have been proven on an actual battlefield. Nonetheless, no opponent so far has been able to rival the sheer, overpowering brute force of his enhanced body, untouched by even the bracelet which cancels out his Quirks.
He would have to see what this opponent brings. The first attack is direct and straightforward, and—after a series of average opponents—surprisingly fast. Looks like Blade doesn't intend to powerscale according to his adversaries if he busts out this kind of speed right away, not that it poses an issue for Tomura; with his physical ability now on par with the likes of All Might, he can match it—it's exciting to match it. The sudden offensive does, however, catch him slightly off-guard; he likely won't be able to muster up a proper guard or dodge in the time it takes Blade to reach him. Then the quickest way to defend himself would be—
He drops, his knees buckling from under him, leaving only air where his torso once occupied. With the most pressing aspect of the onslaught avoided, he can take the precious milliseconds to wind up his muscles, making the minute positional adjustments for his own counterattack. With his weight shifting to his hands and one foot on the ground, he lashes out with the other, a sweeping motion with his leg aimed to take Blade's feet out from underneath him. ]
[ even in his past life, blade was never the type to pull punches. if someone steps into a ring like this they should know what they're asking for—he's not going to hold back on the chance that his opponent might not be able to hold their own. fortunately, that doesn't seem like it's going to be a problem for shigaraki, who drops into a crouch with a speed and fluidity that speaks to experience that's practical as well as theoretical.
despite himself, blade feels a wild smile tug at his lips. it's not often that he fights like this, all-out against a real opponent and not just the various monsters that dot the landscapes of the planets the stellaron hunters visit. very few of them have ever been canny enough to bring themselves low and try for a leg sweep.
it almost works, too. shigaraki's leg catches one of his knees, buckles it at a strange angle, but if it hurts blade doesn't show it and moments later his joints are set right again regardless. taking advantage of the momentum of shigaraki's body, blade follows through to grab one of his ankles, pulling it upwards in an effort to set him off-balance and make him easier to attack. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goldmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
peacockstop2025-03-15 09:00 pm
wildcard-ish
Ah. He would much rather kill everyone in this room.
As if perfectly timed to curb that spark of bloodlust, the crowd shifts again, and the spotlight returns to him where he'd slunk back against the shadows of the wall. He's shirtless by choice, clad in a pair of calf-length track pants and nothing else. The shoes had been lost some time earlier. His hair—this time not by his own doing—has been pulled into a half-undone bun, and in a rare moment of suppression, he actually shows signs of injury: blossoming green and purple bruises, smears of scabbed-over blood. His eyes track the length of the spotlight to find the other party being ushered into the makeshift ring of people. ]
... You're next, huh?
[ This is a face he doesn't know. Depending on the type of person this opponent is, Tomura might feel like killing him—or not. ]
hehehehehe
forced into the ring of people, blade regards his opponent cooly, taking in the bruises and the blood and, critically, the nearly unconcerned way he regards blade in turn. if there were fear in his gaze blade might consider throwing the fight, but he can see none, only a curious mix of boredom and adrenaline. ]
So it would seem. [ blade, too, has tied the long length of his hair up and out of the way, to make it a less attractive handhold. he removes his shirt next, revealing the deep scarring that criss-crosses his torso and the bandages wrapped around his abdomen, although the wounds under them have more or less healed. ] Are you here by choice?
[ whether or not he likes it is a separate question and not an easy one to answer, but it's important to blade at least that he know his opponent is here consentingly. ]
If you are, I won't go easy on you.
no subject
There really is only one way to find out. ]
I don't need that from you. I'm willing enough.
[ He steps away from the wall as the crowd parts a path to the ring, his trajectory taking him close to and then past his opponent. The man would find no trace of the anxieties that wrack those unwilling combatants here: Tomura's tone is low and even, and despite his slouched posture, there's no hesitation in his long, languid steps. Once he makes it to the stage, he crosses over to the far side, leaving his opponent to take the other end. The crowd hollers and jeers as the announcer introduces each side: Shigaraki on the left and Blade on the right.
What a name, Tomura thinks as he settles himself on his side. He wonders if it's an alias: it reminds him of the names picked out by heroes and villains—symbolic, edgy—like they were all playing out the stories of comic books. Not that it matters here; backstory is just a distraction in a fight. ]
Ready when you are.
[ —in mock courtesy. The rare grin slices his features, slight but anticipatory. While he shows little change in stance, remaining standing with his arms dangling loosely at his sides, he's prepared for whatever "Blade" wants to show him—and ready to respond, though hinted only in the harsh flex of his fingers. ]
no subject
Very well. [ his shirt discarded, blade curls his hands into loose fists and shakes out what he can of the ache that plagues them. hand-to-hand combat isn't exactly his forte, but he'd arrived here without his sword and he wears the bracelet that stops him from using the power granted by his path—so fighting with fists becomes his only option. ] Do your worst.
[ through the moment of introductions, blade is largely still, his flat gaze assessing as it rests on his opponent—shigaraki, says the announcer. blade tries to commit it to memory, thinking that whatever violence they do to each other here, it will be good to know someone who can fight—although his memory being what it is, he can't be sure the name will stick.
some things, though, are muscle memory. such is the way blade's fists come up just before the starting bell rings, and the way that the instant he hears that clang echo in the air, blade jolts immediately into motion. no breathless moment spent waiting for his opponent to make a move; no, he moves with superhuman speed, crossing the ring in no time, hoping to catch shigaraki off-guard as he's buffeted by a flurry of punches. ]
no subject
He would have to see what this opponent brings. The first attack is direct and straightforward, and—after a series of average opponents—surprisingly fast. Looks like Blade doesn't intend to powerscale according to his adversaries if he busts out this kind of speed right away, not that it poses an issue for Tomura; with his physical ability now on par with the likes of All Might, he can match it—it's exciting to match it. The sudden offensive does, however, catch him slightly off-guard; he likely won't be able to muster up a proper guard or dodge in the time it takes Blade to reach him. Then the quickest way to defend himself would be—
He drops, his knees buckling from under him, leaving only air where his torso once occupied. With the most pressing aspect of the onslaught avoided, he can take the precious milliseconds to wind up his muscles, making the minute positional adjustments for his own counterattack. With his weight shifting to his hands and one foot on the ground, he lashes out with the other, a sweeping motion with his leg aimed to take Blade's feet out from underneath him. ]
no subject
despite himself, blade feels a wild smile tug at his lips. it's not often that he fights like this, all-out against a real opponent and not just the various monsters that dot the landscapes of the planets the stellaron hunters visit. very few of them have ever been canny enough to bring themselves low and try for a leg sweep.
it almost works, too. shigaraki's leg catches one of his knees, buckles it at a strange angle, but if it hurts blade doesn't show it and moments later his joints are set right again regardless. taking advantage of the momentum of shigaraki's body, blade follows through to grab one of his ankles, pulling it upwards in an effort to set him off-balance and make him easier to attack. ]
no subject