IC will go up sometime today.
Elendra said
... fuck.
Wow man, tone done the language.
Boss_Dude said
Wow man, tone done the language.
Lmfao you kill me.
IN OTHER NEWS: Made my LAST edit to my character sheet. I promise that's it, now that IC is going up. I thought that having a higher Appearance meant she can choose to be considered not noticeable in any way, which would be very helpful to be sneaky and stealthy, but the more average/boring she looks the less noticeable she'll be. That's my logic, anyway. But now I'm not sure how stealthy she'll be if she's 12 feet tall ...
Mischief said
Lmfao you kill me.IN OTHER NEWS: Made my LAST edit to my character sheet. I promise that's it, now that IC is going up. I thought that having a higher Appearance meant she can choose to be considered not noticeable in any way, which would be very helpful to be sneaky and stealthy, but the more average/boring she looks the less noticeable she'll be. That's my logic, anyway. But now I'm not sure how stealthy she'll be if she's 12 feet tall ...
Yeah, me and El were discussing that. We decided that you can't get be extremely unnoticeable by using Appearance.
Oh okay, well then it makes a lot more sense for me to make it last priority for her. I am much more satisfied with her attributes/priorities now.
GM
I will note, that you don't start 12 feet tall. You'll slowly grow that tall as you begin dealing less with mortals and more with the divine. By the time you're huge, you'll be dealing with almost entirely only other huge things.
... Exception being the Dwarves.
... Exception being the Dwarves.
Elendra said
I will note, that you don't start 12 feet tall. You'll slowly grow that tall as you begin dealing less with mortals and more with the divine. By the time you're huge, you'll be dealing with almost entirely only other huge things.... Exception being the Dwarves.
Hmm. So by the end of it, almost exclusively no humans?
But with Illusion as one of my purviews, can I make myself appear shorter?
In which case, I'd be willing to go for it.
GM
Boss_Dude said
Hmm. So by the end of it, almost exclusively no humans?But with Illusion as one of my purviews, can I make myself appear shorter?In which case, I'd be willing to go for it.
You could. Changing this will change who I have as your divine parent. It doesn't, however, change how the OP is going. So that's nice for me.
Yeah, sure, why not. Let's see who my dad is.
Anyway, don't know what timezone you guys are in, but I'm off to bed. So if you post the IC soon, might not be able to respond for maybe 10-11 hours.
Anyway, don't know what timezone you guys are in, but I'm off to bed. So if you post the IC soon, might not be able to respond for maybe 10-11 hours.
GM
Boss_Dude said
Yeah, sure, why not. Let's see who my dad is. Anyway, don't know what timezone you guys are in, but I'm off to bed. So if you post the IC soon, might not be able to respond for maybe 10-11 hours.
It's been posted :p and that's fine!
TentacleLord Your Friendly Neighbourhood Eldritch Abomination
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
Well, the rather unfriendly Russian has made his move in the IC, so that's set.
GM
TentacleLord said
Well, the rather unfriendly Russian has made his move in the IC, so that's set.
I'd have figured the Russian would be familiar at least with the White Death.
TentacleLord Your Friendly Neighbourhood Eldritch Abomination
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
Ah, yes. He's assuming that everything the crone says is Norse.
GM
TentacleLord said
Ah, yes. He's assuming that everything the crone says is Norse.
Hmmm, fair enough. Typing her response to him now, and then someone else can go :D
GM
So you have a power that you don't even know when you can use it... but someone with Mystery or Prophecy can tell you generally when, and someone with Fortune can make such a situation crop up by sheer force of will.
Asuras No spoken words, only napalm and guns
Member
Seen
0-24 hrs ago
*Note: ignore get-up.
Name: Eshna Kumar
Age: 26
Race: Caucasian/Bengali
Sex: Female
Homeland: India
History: Eshna grew up a relatively normal life in the US state of Washington, living singularly with her father. Besides her obscene strength compared to her peers, she led a consistent and inconspicuous way of living all throughout her public education. When Eshna's father motioned to move back to India to live with his elderly parents, she felt a sense of obligation to follow and aid him along the way. For 4 years, she stayed within the States and attended a university before moving to India to enroll in medical school.
Once again her life proved relatively unassuming and normal. She made her way through medical school with ease, proving to be adept in her studies and application of her teachings. To retain time to herself, she initially sought to switch to a nursing career, but her family urged her to keep along the path towards becoming a doctor as she had initially dreamed of. Before reaching such far away achievements however, Eshna was visited by the pair of crows Hugin and Munin. As much as she tried to shrug off the strange occurrence, she unavoidably found herself travelling back to the US and for California.
Parent Gender: Female (Hel? :D)
Heroic Role: Medical Tank
Attributes:
[P1]Strength:
[P3]Dexterity:
[P1]Stamina:
[P2]Charisma:
[P3]Manipulation:
[P2]Appearance:
[P2]Perception:
[P1]Intelligence:
[P2]Quickness:
Divine Purviews:
Primary: Health
Secondary: Guardian, Fire
Tertiary: Death, Fertility
Trainings:
[P3]Art:
[P2]Battle:
[P2]Conversation:
[P2]Drive:
[P1]Endure:
[P1]Heal:
[P3]Investigate:
Larceny:
Military:
[P2]Politics:
[P1]Research:
Sniper:
[P3]Wilds:
Jotunblut? Yes
Romance: I'm down.
Play Style: I prefer a mix of everything.
Signature: Asuras
The Imagination
Member
Offline since relaunch
Name: Jacob Charles Jameson
Age: 21
Race: Caucasian (Mostly Scottish/Irish)
Sex: Male
Appearance:
Roughly 5'11 with a slender build, he's more so defined rather than bulky. He also exceptionally hairy on both his arms and legs.
Homeland: Western United States
History:
Jacob was an often troubled child. Raised solely by his mother, Julie, he was kept sheltered from the world for the entirety of his youth. As he grew older, however, he was awakened to more of what the world had to offer. Sneaking out and smoking as a teenager turned to excessive drinking and the often heavy use of depressants, from marijuana to opiates to occasionally heroin. In a way, he had already given up on life to simply allow himself to wither away. In his mind, his family stopped caring for him, the women he loved and even the ones he 'enjoyed' had abandoned him. From now ex-girlfriends to one-night stands to the odd 'flings' he had. He saw his friends both new and old as 'fake', often blending in with conflicting social cliques and hanging out with a variety of crowds. Jacob was only twenty-one, working as a courtesy clerk for some grocery chain after being fired from tedious labor work building houses. Every night he'd smash a six pack or down several forty ounces, with a good chance of sleeping on oxycodone and rarely shooting up point-oh-five milligrams of heroin through in between his toes. Ever so often, he'd only stick to the drink and go out to pick a fight with whomever he felt was right for the occasion. Brawling in back alleys, bars, parking lots and street corners, sometimes even taking on several opponents. He didn't care whether he was thrown a beating, or tossed one back at them. To put it bluntly, he was happy to feel the pain as much as he dished it out.
And when it came to the politics of drugs, he took advantage of his charisma. If the price of heroin was inflated, he'd manage to inspire his drug dealer to drive out the competition. Behind the scenes, he would strategize with biker gangs on how to better control their forces against rival drug lords and other bikers without even affiliating himself with them. Anything that he could do to make his opiates and marijuana affordable and available through the most convenient means possible. Jacob was a very smart man, who often made dumb decisions with his own life.
One day, after a monotonous time of bagging groceries and greeting customers, he slumped up every withered stone step to his second-story apartment. Sweat cumulated on his furrowed brow upon swinging his wood-rot infested door open. Slamming it emotionlessly, he dove headfirst into his mangled, spring popped mattress and pleaded for a peaceful death. Sliding open his raggedy paraphernalia drawer, he found a note solemnly placed over his needle, pill bottles and several pipes. The words struck a sinking feeling directly in his chest.
“Twins of coal bring light to the lost
Seen again, they herald the northern road”
Instead of taking to shooting up, smoking up, popping or drinking, he made possibly one of the most important decisions in his whole life. He went his first day sober in three years, pondering on the note's very words. Following the next week, Jacob was noticeably slacking at work and sulking in a depressive state of sobriety, anxiety and paranoia. Having not drank, smoked or injected anything for a week was taking it's toll on him, and on the dawn of the end of the week, he was ready to cave in. Arriving at his dealer's house, several men in leather jacket's were taking to his supplier's face with barbed-wired baseball bats and wrenches. As soon as they saw Jacob, they lunged for him. Thinking as quickly as his sobered mind would let him, he took to his dealer's gun on the kitchen counter-top and emptied an entire clip into three men. It was the first time he'd ever killed someone, the first time in his life he ever saw a dead body, and there lay four of them. A loud, incessant ringing noise rose highly in its pitch near relentlessly as a whispered voice played those words back in his head.
“Twins of coal bring light to the lost
Seen again, they herald the northern road”
Thinking fast, sirens in the distance, he snatched up his dealer's bloodied briefcase and ran like a bat out of hell to his apartment. Locking every deadbolt on his door, he pushed and heaved his couch directly behind it and cowered atop his bed. The young boy was staggering and twitching about as he opened up the briefcase. Still bearing the dried, flaked up splotches of blood, it clicked open rather seamlessly. Inside was possibly ten grams of the purest heroin he had ever laid eyes on coupled with almost a hundred pills, more than likely labeled as opiates. Minutes later, he was only a mere moment away from injecting sixty cc's of heroin and popping a variety of a dozen pills simultaneously into imagination land where he could finally die happily. It was an unfamiliar voice that saved him from himself, just in time.
"Oi, Munin, it appears even demigods like to get their beak wet!" The voice piped up in a British accent from across his room with a hearty laugh.
"Woah, shit! What the fuck?" Jacob exclaimed, than rhetorically inquired.
He tossed the pills and needle in every which random direction as he flung back in surprise, knocking his head on the back wall. Hugin laughed in response. As they calmly introduced themselves and the nature of them being there, Jacob's puzzled expression slowly yet surely morphed into one of curiosity and understanding. He didn't know why he believed in two talking ravens perched directly opposite of him, but he certainly knew he was sober and everything he was witnessing was rather vivid. The more questions he inquired, the odder the responses, although he felt himself closer to the answer. At the mention of Ragnarok, his chest sunk deeper than the ocean itself, and a grim feeling of responsibility overwhelmed him. Just as he looked down to the small sack handed to him, he chimed up another question.
"So...what am I supposed to..." They were already gone, but the sack was still firmly in his grasp.
Following the instructions read, he emptied and cleaned out the briefcase of all narcotic substances. If he was truly a demigod, and Ragnarok his fate, than hopefully a bad habit would be the least of his worries. Packing up a few changes of clothing, mostly flannel shirts and torn black jeans, he placed the mysterious sack in the briefcase along with his clothes. Before leaving, he placed on a silver cross necklace. The cross itself was small, yet bold and thick with steel. The symbol was now probably a mundane, meaningless artifact, but inside the cross itself contained a small portion of his uncle's ashes. On the hard road ahead, he would need someone to look up to.
Heroic Role: Leader; Although young and brash at times, Jacob has come to realize his headstrong attitude and rising confidence in himself as these odd events conspire around him. Having never been in a leader position before, he may display an initial nervous offset, while undoubtedly proving he can grow comfortable in the shoes he's decided to put on. Only Fate will tell if he has it in him to overcome his shaded, wretched past.
Priority 1 Attributes: Charisma, Dexterity, Quickness
Priority 2 Attributes: Strength, Stamina, Perception, Intelligence.
Priority 3 Attributes: Manipulation, Appearance.
Primary Purview: War
Secondary Purviews: Fire, Mystery.
Tertiary Purviews: Psychopomp, Sun.
Primary Trainings: Conversation, Endure, Politics.
Secondary Trainings: Military, Battle, Investigation, Research.
Tertiary Trainings: Wilds, Heal, Art.
Jotunblut: Yes.
Romance: I'm on the fence, opt-in. But this is Ragnarok, mutual relationships like that kissy kissy stuff is alright, but I'm not going to be sexing up anyone when there's a world to save.
Play-Style: I thoroughly enjoy heavy choice-based, dialogue type roleplays with an even balance of action and off the battlefield scenes. Too much action delves away from character depth, not enough creates a boring atmospheric setting for the types I like playing.
Signature; The Imagination
~ Via Elendra
The Imagination, AKA Jacob Charles Jameson
You are the child of Freyr, a doomed but amazing god originally of the Vanir.
When, immediately before battle, you give a speech to rouse your allies, all on your side who hear are slightly divinely boosted, even if they were but mortals.
You may sacrifice and perform ritual that tires your body and soul, to get elusive answers from Fate itself.
You are immune to mundane heat, fire, and smoke damage
Your compliments bring others out of all but the worst of slumps
You are able to near perfectly work alongside someone else
You are able to tell just about how dangerous an opponent is to yourself and your allies with but a dedicated look
Age: 21
Race: Caucasian (Mostly Scottish/Irish)
Sex: Male
Appearance:
Roughly 5'11 with a slender build, he's more so defined rather than bulky. He also exceptionally hairy on both his arms and legs.
Homeland: Western United States
History:
Jacob was an often troubled child. Raised solely by his mother, Julie, he was kept sheltered from the world for the entirety of his youth. As he grew older, however, he was awakened to more of what the world had to offer. Sneaking out and smoking as a teenager turned to excessive drinking and the often heavy use of depressants, from marijuana to opiates to occasionally heroin. In a way, he had already given up on life to simply allow himself to wither away. In his mind, his family stopped caring for him, the women he loved and even the ones he 'enjoyed' had abandoned him. From now ex-girlfriends to one-night stands to the odd 'flings' he had. He saw his friends both new and old as 'fake', often blending in with conflicting social cliques and hanging out with a variety of crowds. Jacob was only twenty-one, working as a courtesy clerk for some grocery chain after being fired from tedious labor work building houses. Every night he'd smash a six pack or down several forty ounces, with a good chance of sleeping on oxycodone and rarely shooting up point-oh-five milligrams of heroin through in between his toes. Ever so often, he'd only stick to the drink and go out to pick a fight with whomever he felt was right for the occasion. Brawling in back alleys, bars, parking lots and street corners, sometimes even taking on several opponents. He didn't care whether he was thrown a beating, or tossed one back at them. To put it bluntly, he was happy to feel the pain as much as he dished it out.
And when it came to the politics of drugs, he took advantage of his charisma. If the price of heroin was inflated, he'd manage to inspire his drug dealer to drive out the competition. Behind the scenes, he would strategize with biker gangs on how to better control their forces against rival drug lords and other bikers without even affiliating himself with them. Anything that he could do to make his opiates and marijuana affordable and available through the most convenient means possible. Jacob was a very smart man, who often made dumb decisions with his own life.
One day, after a monotonous time of bagging groceries and greeting customers, he slumped up every withered stone step to his second-story apartment. Sweat cumulated on his furrowed brow upon swinging his wood-rot infested door open. Slamming it emotionlessly, he dove headfirst into his mangled, spring popped mattress and pleaded for a peaceful death. Sliding open his raggedy paraphernalia drawer, he found a note solemnly placed over his needle, pill bottles and several pipes. The words struck a sinking feeling directly in his chest.
“Twins of coal bring light to the lost
Seen again, they herald the northern road”
Instead of taking to shooting up, smoking up, popping or drinking, he made possibly one of the most important decisions in his whole life. He went his first day sober in three years, pondering on the note's very words. Following the next week, Jacob was noticeably slacking at work and sulking in a depressive state of sobriety, anxiety and paranoia. Having not drank, smoked or injected anything for a week was taking it's toll on him, and on the dawn of the end of the week, he was ready to cave in. Arriving at his dealer's house, several men in leather jacket's were taking to his supplier's face with barbed-wired baseball bats and wrenches. As soon as they saw Jacob, they lunged for him. Thinking as quickly as his sobered mind would let him, he took to his dealer's gun on the kitchen counter-top and emptied an entire clip into three men. It was the first time he'd ever killed someone, the first time in his life he ever saw a dead body, and there lay four of them. A loud, incessant ringing noise rose highly in its pitch near relentlessly as a whispered voice played those words back in his head.
“Twins of coal bring light to the lost
Seen again, they herald the northern road”
Thinking fast, sirens in the distance, he snatched up his dealer's bloodied briefcase and ran like a bat out of hell to his apartment. Locking every deadbolt on his door, he pushed and heaved his couch directly behind it and cowered atop his bed. The young boy was staggering and twitching about as he opened up the briefcase. Still bearing the dried, flaked up splotches of blood, it clicked open rather seamlessly. Inside was possibly ten grams of the purest heroin he had ever laid eyes on coupled with almost a hundred pills, more than likely labeled as opiates. Minutes later, he was only a mere moment away from injecting sixty cc's of heroin and popping a variety of a dozen pills simultaneously into imagination land where he could finally die happily. It was an unfamiliar voice that saved him from himself, just in time.
"Oi, Munin, it appears even demigods like to get their beak wet!" The voice piped up in a British accent from across his room with a hearty laugh.
"Woah, shit! What the fuck?" Jacob exclaimed, than rhetorically inquired.
He tossed the pills and needle in every which random direction as he flung back in surprise, knocking his head on the back wall. Hugin laughed in response. As they calmly introduced themselves and the nature of them being there, Jacob's puzzled expression slowly yet surely morphed into one of curiosity and understanding. He didn't know why he believed in two talking ravens perched directly opposite of him, but he certainly knew he was sober and everything he was witnessing was rather vivid. The more questions he inquired, the odder the responses, although he felt himself closer to the answer. At the mention of Ragnarok, his chest sunk deeper than the ocean itself, and a grim feeling of responsibility overwhelmed him. Just as he looked down to the small sack handed to him, he chimed up another question.
"So...what am I supposed to..." They were already gone, but the sack was still firmly in his grasp.
Following the instructions read, he emptied and cleaned out the briefcase of all narcotic substances. If he was truly a demigod, and Ragnarok his fate, than hopefully a bad habit would be the least of his worries. Packing up a few changes of clothing, mostly flannel shirts and torn black jeans, he placed the mysterious sack in the briefcase along with his clothes. Before leaving, he placed on a silver cross necklace. The cross itself was small, yet bold and thick with steel. The symbol was now probably a mundane, meaningless artifact, but inside the cross itself contained a small portion of his uncle's ashes. On the hard road ahead, he would need someone to look up to.
Heroic Role: Leader; Although young and brash at times, Jacob has come to realize his headstrong attitude and rising confidence in himself as these odd events conspire around him. Having never been in a leader position before, he may display an initial nervous offset, while undoubtedly proving he can grow comfortable in the shoes he's decided to put on. Only Fate will tell if he has it in him to overcome his shaded, wretched past.
Priority 1 Attributes: Charisma, Dexterity, Quickness
Priority 2 Attributes: Strength, Stamina, Perception, Intelligence.
Priority 3 Attributes: Manipulation, Appearance.
Primary Purview: War
Secondary Purviews: Fire, Mystery.
Tertiary Purviews: Psychopomp, Sun.
Primary Trainings: Conversation, Endure, Politics.
Secondary Trainings: Military, Battle, Investigation, Research.
Tertiary Trainings: Wilds, Heal, Art.
Jotunblut: Yes.
Romance: I'm on the fence, opt-in. But this is Ragnarok, mutual relationships like that kissy kissy stuff is alright, but I'm not going to be sexing up anyone when there's a world to save.
Play-Style: I thoroughly enjoy heavy choice-based, dialogue type roleplays with an even balance of action and off the battlefield scenes. Too much action delves away from character depth, not enough creates a boring atmospheric setting for the types I like playing.
Signature; The Imagination
~ Via Elendra
The Imagination, AKA Jacob Charles Jameson
You are the child of Freyr, a doomed but amazing god originally of the Vanir.
When, immediately before battle, you give a speech to rouse your allies, all on your side who hear are slightly divinely boosted, even if they were but mortals.
You may sacrifice and perform ritual that tires your body and soul, to get elusive answers from Fate itself.
You are immune to mundane heat, fire, and smoke damage
Your compliments bring others out of all but the worst of slumps
You are able to near perfectly work alongside someone else
You are able to tell just about how dangerous an opponent is to yourself and your allies with but a dedicated look
Elendra said
I will note, that you don't start 12 feet tall. You'll slowly grow that tall as you begin dealing less with mortals and more with the divine. By the time you're huge, you'll be dealing with almost entirely only other huge things.... Exception being the Dwarves.
Oh I know, that's why I was okay stating her height was 5'7". I knew that it happened over time. I just didn't think that her role would change that much. But as long as things are to scale it makes sense. (:
First post from me is up!
The Imagination
Member
Offline since relaunch
I'm pondering on the question I should ask :3
Alright, so I've been stabbed. That's annoying. And apparently I need poultice.
So, I serve the Liesmith/Loki, and yet my father is another. So how did that happen? My dad didn't want me? Or was I the rebellious 'No one understands me' kid?
Let's find out, in the next episode of Ragnarok!
So, I serve the Liesmith/Loki, and yet my father is another. So how did that happen? My dad didn't want me? Or was I the rebellious 'No one understands me' kid?
Let's find out, in the next episode of Ragnarok!
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