@Loony - It's a shame that you're having technical troubles but thank you for keeping us apprised. I hope your laptop turns out alright. Do let us know when you get confirmation on the state of your computer. While we are certainly happy to have you join we will understand if such issues might prevent you from participating for an extended period of time thus creating the need to fill the slot in your absence.
@Goliah - There are a few reasons as to the delay. While it is true that we are waiting for the last of the seven children to be submitted we are also waiting as Kuro is currently on hiatus while he deals with personal matters. Sadly we cannot move forward until both matters are resolved but neither should take long to see through. I have a positive outlook on the IC posts beginning before long.
She sat like a good, patient little killing machine. They talked their talk, job within a job, Money, yadda yadda yadda. Nothing they said answered the question as to why this all couldn't of taken place over a group chat or phone lobby.
Their little spiel was cut short for the moment when a guy barged in. Another assassin, presumably, and he seemed to have beef with the silly man in the red clothes who posed a lot. Words were said, heads were taken and so forth. What was interesting however was that the silly man's movement barely registered on the capture. She let Omnivore take a moment to replay the footage and the motion was still blurred. Being able to slow down a waterfall to the point of being able to count each individual drop of water as it fell this was quite unusual. There was little organic about the attack, leaving only two remaining paths of logic to explore there. Either he's got some super fine cybernetics at work there or it's magic, that weird thing she's only heard rumors of since joining.
The beefy dark guy resumed talking, discussing them all getting ranked up and put into teams amongst other things. It sounded like she was getting some weird tag-alongs for her missions now which wasn't the most attractive sounding proposal in the world. Looking at the group they gathered none of them striked her as any good at scurrying through vents or across the ceiling. If anything they were barely passable distractions. He mentioned something about a third guy coming to join the two which prompted her to look down at the freshly killed corpse.
"Are you sure that wasn't the guy?" She pointed at the decapitated man leaking his cooling blood upon the bar floor. "He's kinda dead."
_ "Any questions before we go, boys and girls?"
After going over what they'd be charging for the big boy opened the room to questions. Oh boy did she have a few. Mildly shuffling across the bar top, careful not to disturb the edges of her disguise, she sat just out of Mr. Baigo's grasp. Leaning in just a bit she extended a hand out from under the tarp. With a metal claw on the cusp of being long enough to classify as a short sword she gently poked a fine hole in the side of his juice box, a tiny puncture right on the dot above the i. It was an unerringly precise poke yet executed with a particularly casual air. Only the kind of precision one could ask from a computer guided needle. After leaving her mark on his box, the container leaking very slightly through this new aperture, she retracted her claws which all gleamed like fine silver back below her ratty tarp.
"I have a few questions." She opened, probably having gotten his attention by this point. "Who the heck are any of those guys? If you moved our ranks, what's our rankings at now? Who are we killing? If another team is ahead of us do we kill them or wait for them to move up ranks? Is each team fighting each rank assassin together or is it still one on one? If a team member decides to be a jerk how much killing qualifies as overkill? Why couldn't this whole meeting take place on a secure chatroom? Even a lan network would of been cooler than this. You also had three messages in your voicemail. You won't believe who the second message is from! By the way if you're called Rutabaga does that make you tuber? If so I'm so not gonna like your vids, that's a lame pun."
She breathlessly bombarded him with questions, easy enough for her to do since she doesn't really need to breath in a deliberate sense anymore. Her breathing was more of a continual flow which ran through a series of filters that seperated the oxygen from the molecules and stored it away to supply what little blood still kept the remaining organic sections alive. That was all not to mention the fact that her voice was generated through a speaker in the back of her mouth, producing nice clear sounding audio for the audiophiles who would hang on her every note if they knew it was a speaker talking and not a real girl.
She made sure to keep a fine eye on his every movement, studying him like a tiger studies it's prey. The same went for every other living soul in her presence. Death was for the unwary and she was not going to be caught unawares.
Just as it seemed his evening was going to go without interruption or incident in walked an important looking fellow, perhaps just a bit self important to that matter. It wasn't until his sister remarked on him that it clicked in.
"Omigosh! Is that Viceroy Varren?"
She exclaimed, sitting on the edge of the table with her hands up on her cheeks in pleasant surprise. He cast a lazy eye over and sure enough it was the guy himself. It didn't hurt that he literally introduced himself as Viceroy Nicola Varren.
Ed, not giving two halves of a crap about the new guest's importance, simply turned back to the can of garbage he was currently emptying into the garbage bag he was holding. He had foolishly ignored the mischievous gleam in her eyes when he turned his back on her. Something he was about to regret.
_ A pair of soft, dainty hands gave him a hearty shove forward. Not anticipating the sudden push he stumbled, falling foward with the can of garbage he was just emptying in hand. All the garbage that wasn't emptied into his bag yet spilt onto him as he landed face first into the can he was just holding.
The pain of landing upon a metal receptical quickly gave way to the both sudden and keen realization that he had drawn way more attention than he ever would of wanted on him. He jerked up, eyes darting about to see exactly how much unwanted attention he had garnered.
"Ah crap."
His sharp exclamation of frustration gave way to a disgruntled grumble about halfway through the swear. Doing his best to simply play it cool he went back to his task, gathering up the garbage which had spilled from the can onto his face and on the floor by hand since he didn't have any tools for this particular event.
Bloody people leaving gross junk in the meeting hall garbage instead of the hall cans. Who the hell only eats half a salad?
@Goliah - Basically almost everything you need to know should be up on the first post in either the OOC or the Characters tab. A couple details to note is that the devil is already written up so anything involving him directly might need to be run by Kuro or myself. Secondly any of the seven children not already located there will likely find themselves winding up at the WDL HQ early on.
If you have any questions do feel free to ask any of the GMs/Co-GMs. We are always happy to answer any questions or concerns from our players.
"That includes you, too, Omnivore, You'll have to get to know these people sooner or later, it might as well be now."
"Aw, that's no fun!" With Baigo's phone suddenly switched to speakerphone a youthful voice bemoaned Person's request. Looking over the side of the ledge she could see a white haired fellow smash through the window into the building. Switching her vision over to infrared she took quick stock of all the probably still warm bodies awaiting inside. It was a fairly big crowd for a group of people she wasn't preying upon.
Pulling her tongue back in she swallowed the phone and took a quick dive off the side of the building.
Like her earlier landing her claws clicked against hard stone with a faint clickity clack, A very gentle drop for something weighing two hundred and fifty pounds. With minimal pause she went from the outside sidewalk to the bartop in a single leap, the heads of her tongues pinching the lower sides of her tarp and keeping them down so little else besides the faint gleam of silver edges could be spotted beneath the flowing white cover. She skidded along the top of the bar, knocking over a couple people's drinks and leaving long score marks across the surface she landed upon.
_ On the bar she now sat, just within reach of Mr. Person. Her legs were up under the sheet, feet perched on the edge of the bar with her lengthy claws only just peaking out below. She was hunched forward a bit, holding the same edge of the bar with her hand claws.
"Heeey boss! How's it going? How you doing?"
From the point of view of the other patrons around some strange person dressed up in some sort of ghost costume just jumped in through the already broken window and was now sitting atop the bar, her costume draped over the bar top as she rocked her head from side to side, lavishing her attention mainly on the man with a box on his head. The tarp she had picked for her costume was quite long, cut down of course by herself to such length purposefully. While having long sides on the tarp kept over from seeing well below it, even in mid-leap, it also meant that the sides were prone towards getting dirty as they often dragged across the ground, picking up mud stains. Well, it wasn't all mud. Some of it just rhymed with mud.
"It's been 3 million years, what do you think happened to them?"
Thessir shrugged, putting his hands up in the air.
"I am but ah simple pehzzant. I doubt the, Mmeheheh, Zagezs care for th' wordz of ah loathzum critter like I."
Putting himself down he shrank from Aether, stepping aside to let the more *important people talk. The answer she gave was not satisfying but then again listening to what people said was the wrong way to learn anything. People often tell more in what they don't say over what they say when they talk. She seemed to have quite the story to tell just from the look of her.
_ “How exactly do I benefit becoming a Sage, subsequently associating myself with everyone here? Or-perhaps the better question, is how are you benefiting from an outcast, slave or anyone else here?”
Thessir looked out from the corner of his eye over at the elf fellow. The nyxian's smile was cheshire, his brow looking curious. His perhaps a better question was a better question indeed, much better than his first one in fact. Thessir immediately knew at least some of the potential benefits that would come with becoming a sage, the most immediately notable of which was the opportunity to score some more information dense spell books from this university she spoke of.
Yes, the real question was what were their hosts getting out of this arrangement? Thessir cradled his chin in the crook of his thumb and finger, taking a moment to mull it over as he really got to thinking about it.
"Why would zomebody need the zagez back, unlezz..."
He muttered to himself out loud, not going too far out of his way to be discrete about it.
"Aha!"
He took the hand he was just resting his chin in and gestured up, a single index finger raised.
"Eef the Zagezs are required then that muzt mean zome ancient evil eez rouzing!"
He cupped his hands over his mouth, stifling a giggle.
"-Oohoohoo~ Ewhat other threat of old could it be than the one and only? Iheheheheheh! A band of frezz meat to topple an unzurmountable enemy! Lucky are we indeed!"
It had to be the reason these unlucky few were chosen to become the sages. The only other reason that made sense to him was the possibility that she was going to reduce them all into mage goo for their sweet distilled essence.
Name: The Plague Doctor. Physical Age: Unknown. True Age: Unknown. Gender: Male. Race: Non-Human. Subspecies: Reaper. Description: None have seen under the garb for a very long time. Any differences from your provided image/s: The colors of his clothing are a bit more faded, worn out even.
~ Psychological Profile ~
Personality:
Quiet, ominous and steadfast. He does his job, moving from site to site and performing his duties. Not much else can be said about him. Not much else is known.
Likes:
- Getting the job done. - People who help him dig graves.
Dislikes:
- People who dig up the bodies he buries. - Binding magic.
Strengths: Burying the dead. Knowing when death is nigh. Fears: Unknown. Hobbies: Unknown. Secrets?: Unknown. Outlook on life: Unknown.
Affiliation: Unknown. Moral Alignment: Lawful Neutral.
~ Combat Profile ~
Major Abilities: Unknown.
Minor Abilities:
- Phantom Gate.
He is able to vanish, teleporting to any location he knows at will.
- Kit of The Conjured.
Anytime he appears he summons forth his garb and his trusty shovel. Damage to his garb seems to last only until it is summoned once more.
- Death Watch.
An ability of rather ominous quality, The Plague Doctor can sense when death is a prominent possibility in the future. The closer he is to the site where the death is to take place the stronger this feeling grows. This sense extends for about a couple miles in radius.
Special Ability: Unknown.
Boundary: No.
Equipment:
His shovel is a potent magic item, nearly as legendary as himself. It's head can break all but the most powerful materials and magical items it strikes. A useful quality for digging. Also a useful quality for dispatching nuisances. It's essence is tied deeply to his own. The Plague Doctor and it are basically one and the same, for one is almost never without the other.
Aside from that his only other equipment is his garb.
Minor Skills: Digging, guiding souls to their afterlife, is surprisingly skilled in spear use.
~ Statistics ~
Willpower: EX Faith: EX Mana Capacity: B Magickal Proficiency: D Physical Competence: S
~ Faction Profile ~
Faction: Reapers. Rank: A Class: Soul Tender. Title: Omen of Death. Loyalty Level: 10/10 He serves his purpose.
~ Miscellaneous ~
Biography/History:
The Tale of The Plague Doctor is the only known evidence this mysterious figure even exists.
It begins in the early years of the black plague. A man had returned from war to his small village. He took up the recently developed craft of his late father, the resident doctor. In the man's absence the plague had spread to this village and to his father no less. When the man took up his father's mantle the mayor of the town approached him with a request. He asked that the victims of the plague be killed and buried so as to prevent risk that they'd spread the disease to those that still lived.
The man accepted the offer. He crafted for himself a garb which would protect himself from infection and went to work. Whenever a villager became sick with the plague he'd quietly enter their home and cut them down with the edge of his father's shovel. Afterwords he'd bury them, ensuring the bodies did not spread the disease further. Entire families met their end like this.
Of course there was no stopping it. One by one, person by person The Plague Doctor killed them without care for their pleas. They were sick. Soon the only two people left alive were him and the mayor. The mayor's plan to protect himself from sickness by having The Plague Doctor put the sickly to death had come to naught. He was sick with the plague.
The mayor begged to be spared but The Plague Doctor no longer could hear his words. With one deadly smash he caved the mayor's head in with the flat of the shovel's head. The mayor was buried in his deceased wife's own garden.
With that the only one left from that village that he needed to bury was himself. As he walked up to the tree up on the hill near his home he saw an open grave already made for him. When he approached that grave he saw a stone stairwell leading down into the depths of the earth. He walked down these steps the earth filled in behind him, burying him as he descended into his grave.
If everyone died though, then who witnessed this and told the tale? Apparently the bard who had spoken of this tale had heard it from a man who claimed to have heard it from another man who claimed he could speak to crows. The story thus had been considered as little more than a macabre work of fiction. After all, only a fool would listen to a tale from a man who'd speak to madmen that believed they could speak with birds, right?
Name: Rick Brackwall. Physical Age: 22. True Age: 24. Gender: Male Race: Child of the Devil. Subspecies: N/A Description:
Standing at five foot ten inches Rick weighs about sixty eight kilograms with snow white hair and a rather small thin frame. One eye is a soft sky blue while the other one is stained a reddish brown. He likes to leave his hair loose generally but he will comb it back during meetings and other high profile attendances.
At school or on the job he'll wear the standard uniform provided for the WDL. For social outings he'll wear fine black suits, dressing expensively albeit with little in the way of jewelry or other such tokens of wealth. He likes to look professional without necessarily showing off any degree of wealth since it's all provided for him. He sees little need to visibly demonstrate the WDL's wealth in the form of watches and the like.
In casual company he'll dress down, wearing a cool colored t-shirt of some variety and some grey cargo pants. He likes having many pockets which they are good for. Most of his shirts have pockets since he likes having at least one pen and one pencil on him at all times.
A couple of additional notes is that, firstly, he typically carries his saber with him to most areas where such an item is permitted. Secondly, he has a scar over his left eye. He doesn't like to talk about it.
~ Psychological Profile ~
Personality:
On the surface he is a rather friendly albeit reserved fellow. He conducts himself politely and tries to make good with those around him. If others have problems he will seek to help them however he can should they desire the assistance. Regularly he is fairly busy as he likes to study, filling his head with knowledge pertinent to demons and the trials ahead so that he may be better prepared. Rare is it that he's doing something other than reading with his free time.
Beneath his facade he works tirelessly towards the goal of the Warriors of Divine Light, that being to destroy demons. He pretend to be friendly and aloof largely as a defense mechanism. He cannot allow himself to grow close to anyone as at any moment their lives may end violently. He cannot afford to care about others until he finds the strength to right what's wrong with the world. On the other hand he cannot be cold to his allies and risk alienating them should he need their assistance. He maintains relationships largely out of job necessity rather than an actual desire to have company.
At his core he has suffered a great deal. He is bent for revenge against the one who wronged him and everything around him is an asset, a means to an end. That is not to say he holds no empathy for those around him but he has a bone to pick with one particular demon and all other demons have fallen on his bad side as a result. Still, he'd rather build bridges as opposed to burning them so as long as someone doesn't do something so foolhardy as to try and bar him from his mark he can still work with them.
Given his background he is utterly driven to grow in power so he will never be at anyone else's mercy. There is not a thing he feels stronger about than this.
Likes: - Writing: Fairly natural for him given his powers. - Drawing: Another paper based art form he practices. - Paper: Anything made of paper is good for him. - Cool Colors: He prefers darker shades and cool colors such as blue, purple and black. - Creativity: The mind is a beautiful thing that is meant to be expressed, not squandered. - Politeness: There's no good reason not to show a modicum of decorum. - Fancy Words: All the better to express ones idea's more vividly with. - Dependability: A dependable person is a valuable asset. - Chaos: Discord leaves opportunity for the weak to succeed where success would ordinarily be impossible. - Winter: Freshly fallen snow is marvelously scenic. Truly inspiring.
Dislikes: - Fire: A natural weakness of his. - Water: Another natural weakness of his. - Computers: He's naturally prejudiced against digitization as it makes him feel outdated. - Summer: Between the oppressive heat and the people walking about in scant clothing there's little about summer he welcomes. - Demons: They've caused him a great deal of suffering. He's spent most of his life training to kill them. No doubt about him disliking them. - Arrogance: A quality often found in demons. He detests it wherever it may be though. - Incompetence: A chain is only as good as it's weakest link and he loathes to hinge his plans on the capability of these "Weak Links". - Blood: It's both red and water based. Also there are some bad memories tied to the sight of blood. He prefers to avoid the stuff when he can.
Strengths: - He is very resourceful, skilled at making a lot out of a little. - He is clever, living on the edge of what his wiles will let him get away with. - He is quite book-smart, a veritable fountain of knowledge and only growing smarter. - While not terribly acrobatic he can be quite dextrous, quick to react and adapt both in body and mind. - He is very steady, able to minimize the trembling in his hands so as to make highly accurate motions with his hands. - He has a high tolerance for pain, able to maintain focus under great amounts of it.
Fears: - Losing someone close to him. A fear he's well accustomed to, he is quite reluctant to let anyone become close to him for this reason. - Alzheimers. When one depends on his mind as much as him it can be frightening to imagine gradually losing it all. - Mental Magic. He both fears and hates this type of magic above all. Any who try to manipulate his mind or emotions for their own ends will earn a very special ire. Full on Mind Control will earn the user his eternal enmity should he ever regain his mental freedom.
Hobbies: As he is much too busy preparing for the future he really only has time to spare keeping up appearances. One thing he does unrelated to gathering power is that he likes to patron the arts, sparing money for artists he enjoys so they can continue expressing their creativity and enriching culture in general.
Secrets?: He doesn't speak much about his past. The WDL would probably have more information regarding his history. Outlook on life: Keeping the world safe from the apocalypse supersedes all. Any danger that threatens all living things and past that mankind in general must be thwarted. Failure is no option to consider.
Affiliation: N/A. Moral Alignment: Neutral Good, More often neutral than good.
~ Combat Profile ~
Major Abilities:
+ Paper Form
Upon entering his Awakened Demon form Rick assumes a new body, one made entirely out of paper. He gains all the benefits and drawbacks being made of paper brings. As he is able to control paper he is also able to control his body without fault. Should this form be damaged the paper will mimic damage inflicted to a real body, only in paper form. These changes don't cause pain or hinder his performance. If the damages made to his body aren't repaired before he turns back into his human form though he'll retain these injuries, effecting him as though he sustained such injuries in his human form. Obviously some forms of damage to paper are easier to mend than others. Tape might be able to hold torn sections of paper together but it does little to help against fire. He can use his manipulation of paper to change his body accordingly however he cannot return to normal with more to his body than he'd have in his normal, healthy state.
+ Summon Paper
While his Awakened Demon form is active Rick is able to summon anything made of paper so long as he knows what it is and has a good idea as to where it is. This method of summoning has a mild flexibility, able to include non-paper materials such as book covers and other things so long as they are firmly attached to paper. The less he knows about the location of the papers he is trying to summon however the greater his chance of erroneously taking the wrong article of paper is. The summoning's chance of error is even greater if he is trying to summon a specific page and it's lost within a stack of papers. He cannot summon paper into a space that is physically occupied by another object.
+ Paper Voodoo Doll Syndrome
In his Paper Form Rick can use dark magic to passively exchange a portion of all damage he receives to many targets. By simply touching his target Rick can instantly place a red X anywhere on the target's body. So long as this X remains on the target any damage taken by Rick will be divided in half, the remaining damage taken instead by the X marked target. If two targets are marked with Xs Rick instead only takes a third of the damage dealt, the two marked targets each taking a third of the damage as well. The amount of damage suffered by Rick can be shared by up to ninety nine targets, all of them suffering a minimum of one percent of the damage dealt. The red X applied to the target works like a red X drawn on by a red permanent marker. It will wear off over time but cannot be washed off. There are only two non-magical means of removing the red X quickly. One is by removing the section of skin it is applied to. The other mean of removing the red X is with lemon juice. No other type of citrus will suffice.
As some additional details of note while damage suffered by Rick will be shared to those with red Xs on them damage suffered by these targets will not transfer to Rick. Additionally the parameters for where Rick needs to touch in order to place a mark do include clothing as well as items in their possession. What does not fit within the parameters of what he can touch to apply an X to the target are furniture the target might be using or anything else they might be touching that doesn't classify as an item in their possession.
Minor Abilities:
- Paper Control
While this may be under Minor Abilities this ability is the meat of Rick's power. With this ability he can move, manipulate and change any and all paper. He can only exert an amount of force equal to his magical strength over a single piece of paper. This force is not divided amongst the number of pieces of paper he has under his control. In addition to this he can alter the paper's shape as well as create and even change images upon the paper to whatever he desires. The only thing he cannot do is change the physical properties of paper. Paper is still paper, complete with all it's strengths and all it's weaknesses.
- Knowledge Conduction
Rick is able to read the entirety of any book or any other written article simply by touching it. With a simple touch all information contained upon the paper will be absorbed into his mind instantly. The drawback to this power is that the more information he absorbs the greater it strains his mind. If he absorbs too much information at once he stands a risk of passing out. Typically he'll need to wait for several minutes to let his mind relax after absorbing the knowledge of a regularly sized book. Still considerably faster than the time it would take to actually read one.
- Inscribe Magic
Rick has the ability to create scrolls and other magical parchments capable of unleashing magical effects by triggering the runes imprinted on said parchment. Able to tap into a vast well of various magics Rick can imprint these spells upon various parchments in the form of magical runes. Upon creation of the scroll Rick designates the methods and/or events required to activate said scroll, activating the spell stored within. The only limits to what spells are able to be etched onto paper are that Rick must know and understand the spell he's writing and that Rick must also have the capacity to cast said spell. People other than Rick can use the scrolls/parchments so long as they understand how to activate them.
Special Ability: Unknown
Equipment: His clothes, Multiple pens and pencils, A pocket protector, A flashlight, His wallet, His cell phone, A roll of clear tape, A clip board and his saber. Minor Skills: He is very steady handed and accurate to boot. He knows a great deal about magic and can utilize a variety of spells. He is trained in saber combat, a style which he is quite deadly in thanks to his fast wits and precise thrusts. He is also nimble, able to dodge fast using his thin frame to his advantage.
~ Statistics ~
Willpower: EX Faith: S+ Mana Capacity: S Magickal Proficiency: A- Physical Competence: C+
~ Faction Profile ~
Faction: The Warriors of Divine Light. Rank: B Rank/ Lower 2nd Class. Class: Offensive Magic. Title: N/A Loyalty Level: 6/10 - The ends justify the means... To an extent.
~ Miscellaneous ~
Biography/History:
- Notes regarding Rick Brackwall -
"When they found him he had been sitting at the kitchen table. A gun was sitting on the table top. The rest of his family was found dead. It appeared to be a multiple suicide. His left eye was bleeding profusely. It was later discovered to be a knife wound.
As the event had tripped the radar agents had been dispatched to locate the child, observe the situation and act from there. They determined it best to extract the child and take him back to headquarters. We had him taken to get his eye healed. They did their best but some staining and scarring remained.
Over the years he's adapted quite well to life at the WDL. He puts forth a great effort to better himself both scholastically and in weapons training. His greatest weakness thus far appears to be his strength. He applies his mind well and has decent cardio however he could use to build more muscle. Despite that drawback he's quite well suited to the tasks ahead."
- End of notes -
~ Physical Profile ~
Name: The Plague Doctor. Physical Age: Unknown. True Age: Unknown. Gender: Male. Race: Non-Human. Subspecies: Reaper. Description: None have seen under the garb for a very long time. Any differences from your provided image/s: The colors of his clothing are a bit more faded, worn out even.
~ Psychological Profile ~
Personality:
Quiet, ominous and steadfast. He does his job, moving from site to site and performing his duties. Not much else can be said about him. Not much else is known.
Likes:
- Getting the job done. - People who help him dig graves.
Dislikes:
- People who dig up the bodies he buries. - Binding magic.
Strengths: Burying the dead. Knowing when death is nigh. Fears: Unknown. Hobbies: Unknown. Secrets?: Unknown. Outlook on life: Unknown.
Affiliation: Unknown. Moral Alignment: Lawful Neutral.
~ Combat Profile ~
Major Abilities: Unknown.
Minor Abilities:
- Phantom Gate.
He is able to vanish, teleporting to any location he knows at will.
- Kit of The Conjured.
Anytime he appears he summons forth his garb and his trusty shovel. Damage to his garb seems to last only until it is summoned once more.
- Death Watch.
An ability of rather ominous quality, The Plague Doctor can sense when death is a prominent possibility in the future. The closer he is to the site where the death is to take place the stronger this feeling grows. This sense extends for about a couple miles in radius.
Special Ability: Unknown.
Boundary: No.
Equipment:
His shovel is a potent magic item, nearly as legendary as himself. It's head can break all but the most powerful materials and magical items it strikes. A useful quality for digging. Also a useful quality for dispatching nuisances. It's essence is tied deeply to his own. The Plague Doctor and it are basically one and the same, for one is almost never without the other.
Aside from that his only other equipment is his garb.
Minor Skills: Digging, guiding souls to their afterlife, is surprisingly skilled in spear use.
~ Statistics ~
Willpower: EX Faith: EX Mana Capacity: B Magickal Proficiency: D Physical Competence: S
~ Faction Profile ~
Faction: Reapers. Rank: A Class: Soul Tender. Title: Omen of Death. Loyalty Level: 10/10 He serves his purpose.
~ Miscellaneous ~
Biography/History:
The Tale of The Plague Doctor is the only known evidence this mysterious figure even exists.
It begins in the early years of the black plague. A man had returned from war to his small village. He took up the recently developed craft of his late father, the resident doctor. In the man's absence the plague had spread to this village and to his father no less. When the man took up his father's mantle the mayor of the town approached him with a request. He asked that the victims of the plague be killed and buried so as to prevent risk that they'd spread the disease to those that still lived.
The man accepted the offer. He crafted for himself a garb which would protect himself from infection and went to work. Whenever a villager became sick with the plague he'd quietly enter their home and cut them down with the edge of his father's shovel. Afterwords he'd bury them, ensuring the bodies did not spread the disease further. Entire families met their end like this.
Of course there was no stopping it. One by one, person by person The Plague Doctor killed them without care for their pleas. They were sick. Soon the only two people left alive were him and the mayor. The mayor's plan to protect himself from sickness by having The Plague Doctor put the sickly to death had come to naught. He was sick with the plague.
The mayor begged to be spared but The Plague Doctor no longer could hear his words. With one deadly smash he caved the mayor's head in with the flat of the shovel's head. The mayor was buried in his deceased wife's own garden.
With that the only one left from that village that he needed to bury was himself. As he walked up to the tree up on the hill near his home he saw an open grave already made for him. When he approached that grave he saw a stone stairwell leading down into the depths of the earth. He walked down these steps the earth filled in behind him, burying him as he descended into his grave.
If everyone died though, then who witnessed this and told the tale? Apparently the bard who had spoken of this tale had heard it from a man who claimed to have heard it from another man who claimed he could speak to crows. The story thus had been considered as little more than a macabre work of fiction. After all, only a fool would listen to a tale from a man who'd speak to madmen that believed they could speak with birds, right?
Standing at only three feet tall this small terror looks a great deal like what he is: An evil puppet. His features tend to be rather menacing though this can often change depending on the body. Often he'll have junk stuck in in place of missing parts, making do with what he's got. Overall he's a jittery maniac, often fixed with a devilish grin, especially when he's scheming. What he wears is extremely variable as he goes from disguise to disguise with great rapidity
Any differences from your provided image/s: No matter what he wears he'll always have a set of pockets on his clothing of choice.
~ Psychological Profile ~
Personality:
An easily excitable demon with big dreams and a lot to prove.
He's easily characterized by his lust for glory and his love for human pop culture. He'll go above and beyond to gain any measure of fame or recognition. He tries to think outside the box, trying things which either fail or succeed spectacularly. No matter what he does though he is no subtle fellow. His excitement and desire for recognition well exceeds his ability to manipulate others.
In truth he's rather child like in his manner. Unrefined and more concerned with spectacle opposed to effectiveness. He does harm not really out of malice but with a zeal for approval combined with an eagerness to play with power.
That's not to say he isn't aware of some hard truths. Living in hell as one of his strength means knowing his own mortality well. He's kept well to the shadows and he is quite sneaky when he needs to be. He doesn't much care for hiding himself however, preferring to be the center of attention when he can seize it.
- Demon Lords and any demon significantly stronger than him.
Hobbies:
- Brainstorming new schemes. - Stealing things. - Watching movies. - Reading manga. - Making bombs.
Secrets?:
Outlook on life:
Some day he'll become the greatest demon to have ever lived and then all the people who bullied him and said he couldn't make will come and lick his boots and all the cool demons will like him and everything great for him will happen always. He's just gotta prove to the higher ups he has the potential.
Affiliation: Hell. Moral Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.
~ Combat Profile ~
Major Abilities:
+ Spirited Retreat
It's never good to go into a plan without an escape plan and Geppetto's plan is particularly slippery. At any time he can eject his soul from his current body and escape either back into hell or into a nearby inanimate body. His soul cannot escape if it is trapped with magic however.
Minor Abilities:
- Recycled Parts.
He's unique for a puppet as the parts composing his body are largely disposable. If he looses an arm he can reconnect it and it will resume functioning. The more damaged a limb is the less optimally it will perform.
Geppetto can also can make replacement limbs out of any makeshift material. The material will animate no differently than his starting limbs however their durability and weight will play into account. Parts that were previously operational like guns or other devices will continue operating as they did previously instead of serving as the limb it's replacing. He will however have control over the device attached as he would a living limb.
- Master of Disguise.
Okay, perhaps he's not a master of disguises. This ability grants him the power to conjure forth any disguise he wishes. The disguises come with clothing, makeup, fake prosthetics and props. The props only function to mimic their real counterparts in aesthetic. He can don these disguises instantly, spinning in a blur only to appear in his disguise of choice.
- Really Deep Pockets.
Geppetto's pants pockets can be used to hold a wide variety of things, more things than you'd assume pockets could hold.
His pockets can stretch out to the circumference of a sewer manhole cover and can house up to a shipping container's worth of contents. Whatever he wants out of his pockets always come right to his hands when he reaches in.
Boundary: No.
Equipment: His clothing, a lot of various guns, many types of bombs, knick-knacks and plenty of ammo. Minor Skills:
- He's fast. - He's agile. - He's sneaky. - That's about it.
~ Statistics ~
Willpower: A Faith: B+ Mana Capacity: D Magickal Proficiency: D- Physical Competence: C
~ Faction Profile ~
Faction: Hell. Rank: E Class: Handsome Mastermind and Ultimate Warlord (Self assigned) Title: The Puppet Master (Self awarded, nearly nobody calls him that.) Loyalty Level: 3/10 He wants somebody to like him. His allies don't seem to like him much back.
~ Miscellaneous ~
Biography/History:
There once was a puppeteer, down in the dark depths of hell. He made puppets and held puppet shows for his fellow demons. He had the ability to make his puppets come alive, to act and perform for him on their own right.
He was crafting one particular puppet however it did not come out right. It's eyes seemed to drift to the sides, it's wicked grin was askew. With just a head, a body and an arm made the puppeteer simply decided to discard the half made puppet, leaving it among his pile of other spare puppet parts and other materials.
This puppet, despite it's unfinished state, had been kept in his hands long enough for it to have come to life however. In the darkness of the attic where it was kept this puppet spent it's birth crawling with it's one arm through the darkness. It learned to move in the state was at however, making due as it was. Then it saw the crack. An ever so slight crack in the floor boards led the puppet to see the shows that went on below. Brothers and sisters to him were all dancing and acting out plays while demons all laughed and applauded along. Seeing the puppets who were whole made this puppet realise that he was incomplete. He'd need more than just an arm if he were to join them.
_ With determination he put together the rest of his limbs, attaching them to himself with a great deal of patchwork. A hand with only three fingers and a thumb, a glove with a patch sewn over the hole on it's back, one wooden leg which was longer than the other and a pair of brown cobbled shoes with uneven shoe laces. His efforts paled in comparison to even the discarded works of the puppeteer but he wasn't going to be daunted in his ambition. One day as the other puppets were acting out on stage the puppet managed to jimmy open the lock on the attic door, slipping out from the dark recesses above and rushing out into the theater, his wooden heart alight with joy. None were glad to see him. The audience was confused and annoyed by his interruption, the other puppets were surprised and shocked by his reveal and the puppeteer though surprised was ultimately disappointed. The failure he had hoped to forget was not only alive much to his surprise as he never knowingly gave the puppet that gift but it was now public knowledge. The only answer was to destroy the puppet lest it ruin his reputation.
The puppet stood awaiting applause and cheers yet only received startled gasps and disgruntled grunts. He turned to see his very creator coming towards him, hammer in hand. The glint in the demon's eye was enough warning for him. He started running, the puppeteer giving chase, and fled out through the door into the dark and twisted streets of Ashanty, a small and poor town in the midst of hell.
For many years the streets were what he called home. Geppetto, as he now called himself, lived a hard life, sticking to the dingy corners where other demons weren't already hiding. Anytime a powerful demon would pass through the lesser demons would scatter and he was no exception. He had to steal, beg and take whatever work anyone would give him simply to get by. He had to be sneaky since the tougher of the smaller demons frequently liked to trounce the lesser demons and scour them for belongings. His life was hard but living down the shame of his past was even harder. Of course the latest war on humanity rolled around so now there's work to be done. Where there's work to be done Geppetto is almost always guaranteed to show, trying his hardest to get the job so he can be given the opportunity to impress others.
Member
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Kalas,
dragonpiece,
Fallenreaper,
oooooo,
Mixtape Ghost N,
Damycles,
Echotech71
