TRP is a post-Great War AU RWBY RP set in Mistral City and Haven Academy with no canons, no rank claims, no maidens, and no god interference. We offer a progression system and site-wide events that change the setting based on player actions.
An entire year had passed since her enrollment into Haven, and so much had happened. First, she reared her head back at the festival, then the Christmas disaster happened, and she helped a bunch of orphans when their home exploded into flames. Then, the Dust Ward Killer struck. She still had the tools and gear she managed to nab from the bastard when she was the first point of contact with the Grimm infested guy. It was a stressful ordeal that day, but she kept telling herself if she didn't find him when she did, he could've gotten away with so much more. Then that botched concert with the Maidens, and her eternal struggle with a fucking light system, which turned into a near death experience where she was poisoned by a Manticore. If it wasn't for Bianca, she'd be long from this world. So she repaired the debt in kind, saving her ass from an Ursa.
After that? She got involved with the Artisans, working as a "blacksmith" when really it was engineering work, creation contraptions, learning and making a small profit on the side. It was good work, and it was honest work. At least, that's what happened when she was under the light of day.
She has seen this city for it's traitorous nature it is. It will not save you when you need it most, it will beat you down again, and again, and again until you're no longer screaming for help. As she looked at the inside of her plain white mask, adorned with large horns that curled slightly back, she pondered on her first night, when this nightly gang was made. She had been jumped by some thugs in the ground district, which wasn't so bad. At least, not until she recognised one of them, and that one looked in pain. Like they were being forced. The thug in question though? It was someone she recognised from her trip to Mistral from her ruined home. A traitor, a betrayer. It had awoken a fire inside her that had to act, and once she defended herself with her the help of dust to their eyes, smoke bombs and invisibility, she made sure to leave an impression on these thugs and send them packing. She then went on, tailing them until they got back to their hideout, and then proceeded to infiltrate and find some respected individual and made an example of them.
It took a matter of ten minutes behind a closed door, but once she was done, she let her chameleon form take her, so she could hide in the corner when the first person came through and screamed in horror. The respected individual had been tied up to the beams in the roof, the life taken from their very soul with blood dripping from their arms. A note was neatly tucked into his pocket, which simply read. "The Harridans are here." It was enough to shake the gang up and after this night, it was the talk of the underworld. How some phantom or ghost just made such short work of the guy, and that it could happen to any one else.
Chloro captialized on this. Hard.
If no one was going to save the denezens of this shit hole, Chloro will. So hence, the formation of the Needleworked Harridans, a small motely crew of thieves, burglars, and killers. They were also salvation to the poor, redemption for the betrayed, justice for the broken. They targetted well known gangs, along with well known businesses who have public displays of behaviour that only truly belong to the wicked. Headlines slowly crept up about the white masks in the city, especially when they began targetting the higher districts. Silent wraiths that disappear as quickly as they appeared, taking what they pleased.
As Chloro sat on the box, staring into the back of her white mask that signified her as the leader, the blood that had been formed from the body next to her had finally touched her boots, bringing her back to reality. She placed and adjusted the horned mask on her face and stood up, signalling to the other masked wraiths that it was time to go.
Mistral was a city where everyone have to fend for themselves. The Needleworked Harridans were the bump in the night. Chloro was the wraith that came knocking. Maybe now they'll listen to our pleas.