Athinar

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Hey guys, sorry my post took so long, it's been a week, holidays and all that!

@NeutralNexus

It's fine, man, we understand.

@Fallenreaper, whose turn is it now?

𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕊𝔸𝔾𝔸 𝕆𝔽 𝕍𝕀ℕ𝔻𝔼ℝ𝕍𝔸𝕃𝕃

@The Harbinger of Ferocity I can, but if I don't get a reply from @dragonmancer by tomorrow, I'll post.

𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕊𝔸𝔾𝔸 𝕆𝔽 𝕍𝕀ℕ𝔻𝔼ℝ𝕍𝔸𝕃𝕃

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Mag Lev I'm waiting for that dragon guy, it's not my turn in the post order.

The Deadly 8: Case of the Corvin Daughters.

Question: Are we all related, or do we just have the name "Jones" somewhere?

The Deadly 8: Case of the Corvin Daughters.

Also just out of interest, which daughter do you find the most creepy/unsettling and why?

@Dynamo Frokane

Probably Shawna, because she's so pretty, yet is a remorseless killer.

The Deadly 8: Case of the Corvin Daughters.

The Author

Name: Randy Jones
Age: 29
Date Of Death: 1992
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 135 lb.
Method of Death: Getting stabbed in the neck with his own fountain pen.
Bio: Randy was always a romantic. Ever since he was a child, he loved reading classic romances from authors like Jane Austen, Shakespeare, and the Brontes. The kind of books that he would've totally been bullied for reading if anyone had found out he liked them. He was writing his own poetry at the age of 16, and he wrote his first novel at the age of 20. Bringing it to a publisher, Randy found that they loved whatever he wrote, and so, began his nine-year career of writing.

However, Randy's romanticism was also his downfall. He had a bad habit of romancing married women, which he wasn't to blame for. It wasn't his fault that they were discontented with their marriage. This habit lead to a very fast-paced series of events in the last year of his life in which he had to learn how to fight, in order to defend himself from his former lovers' ex-husbands. He did fairly well, but the last ex managed to break into his house and stab him to death with his own pen. Most of his lovers went to his funeral, and there was a fairly massive turnout, including family and friends. Now he waits in the penthouse for a job, and chats it up with his companions.
Greatest Love: The concept of 'Romance', in all forms.
Greatest Fear: Those that would do terrible things in the name of 'love'. This is a perversion of all Randy sees as good, and it terrifies him.
Stunning Weapon: Colt M45 that he had bought to fight the exes.
Sealing Weapon: His fountain pen.

𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕊𝔸𝔾𝔸 𝕆𝔽 𝕍𝕀ℕ𝔻𝔼ℝ𝕍𝔸𝕃𝕃

Shiiiiiing~

The whetstone was brought across the already-oiled axeblade, making the room ring with noise. Feeling the edge, Eirik, unsatisfied, brought the whetstone across again.

Shiiiiiing~

Eirik had a certain affinity for weapons and tools. They were reliable, if you treated them right. Unlike people.

Shiiiiiing~

Finished sharpening the axe, Eirik wiped the blade clean of oil, and set it down on the bed beside him. Gathering his cleaning kit, he carefully packed it in a small satchel, making sure each item was in its place. Putting it on the floor, leaning against the bedpost, Eirik stood from his spot on the bed, and popped his back, by twisting his upper body. Reaching down to his toes, Eirik began stretching, getting ready for the day. The sun was barely above the horizon, and a cool breeze was blowing past his open window, the last vestiges of night getting swept away by the warm breeze of morning.

Dressing in a loose cotton tunic and leather breeches, he pulled his boots on, and opening the door to his room, locked it behind him, ready for his morning training regimen. Walking into the courtyard of the hostel, Eirik passed a group of Vigilants who were headed to their rooms to sleep, night shift finished. Performing one last stretch of the legs, Eirik jogged down the road to the gates, intending to run around the town several times to wake himself up.

Passing several yawning guardsmen who had just gotten onto the morning shift, passed them, giving them a start, but they settled down as soon as they saw who it was. He had been a regular appearance around the city gates, where he was generally posted when he was on guard duty, and he passed through every day for his morning run.

Feet pounding the packed dirt between the trees, Eirik ran through a path that circled Stockton. He was careful to keep to the path, and stay within view of the town, for there were few good things in the woods to begin with, especially now, in the current era. The forest luckily shaded him from the sun, which, this far south, meant that it wasn't overly warm during his run. And he liked it that way. Getting into a circular rhythm of breathing and running, Eirik focused on the ground in front of him, exercise taking up all his concentration.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He was on his fifth lap around the town, coming back around towards the gates, when he saw something strange. A crowd of guards had gathered around the gate blocking his reentry. The crowd in question had their weapons at the ready, pointing at some Beastlike creatures. However, the creatures did not appear to be hostile, and Eirik assumed that they would only attack in their own defense. That course of action would more than likely leave most of the guards lying on their backs and quite sore, covered in bruises.

Slowing to a walk, Eirik arrived just in time to hear the back end of the cat-woman's greeting. He was the only Vigilant present, the gate guards were all frightened town militia. Work? Unless this Beastwoman was a craftsman here for the festival, and arriving late, then the only possible work one might find in this backwater town for such a being would be with the Vigilants. He didn't particularly feel like intervening, as the whole business had nothing to do with him, but the militia was blocking the gates, and, well, he was paid to keep the peace in the town. A fight that broke out while he was nearby would technically be his responsibility, he supposed. At least, Sir Gormun and that Dwarven scribe, Darathor would hold him accountable.

Walking towards the debacle, Eirik left the woods for the clearing around the road, and striding steadily, with a impassive look on his face, he stood to the side. As he approached, the guards took note of him, and they became visibly less nervous, and stood straighter, staring at the beastmen with still-visible trepidation, but that trepidation was backed by steel. Eirik was quite popular among the gate guards, due to his post, regular appearance, and visible strength. However, Eirik didn't care about their adoration, which led to even more. Apparently, stoic, strong men were seen as exemplars to the novice soldiers of the town militia. Whatever.

Sizing up the catwoman and the dragon-man without fear, steely gaze sweeping up and down their strangely human frames, Eirik spoke, thick Havarthi accent giving his voice a slight growl. "Ah doubt ther'll be one if ye keep yer nose clean, Dragon-Man. And yer here fer work, Cat? Ah'm a Vigilant, and Ah assume taht' one o' yer kind ain't 'ere to spin th' pottery wheel 'r sell taps'tries. Ah kin take ya to th' Cap'n of tha 3rd Platoon, Sir Gormn', if thas' who yer lookin' fer." Staring into the cat-woman and dragon-man's eyes, he said, "Othr'wise, ye be'rr keep yer noses clean while yer 'ere. Town's under the protection o' th' Vigilants."

Mentions

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@dragonmancer@Mag Lev

Winter Came on Forever: An 18th Century Alt-History

I'm working on a post. I'm a slow poster. :P

The Deadly 8: Case of the Corvin Daughters.

The Author

Name: Randy Jones
Age: 29
Date Of Death: 1992
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 135 lb.
Method of Death: Getting stabbed in the neck with his own fountain pen.
Bio: Randy was always a romantic. Ever since he was a child, he loved reading classic romances from authors like Jane Austen, Shakespeare, and the Brontes. The kind of books that he would've totally been bullied for reading if anyone had found out he liked them. He was writing his own poetry at the age of 16, and he wrote his first novel at the age of 20. Bringing it to a publisher, Randy found that they loved whatever he wrote, and so, began his nine-year career of writing.

However, Randy's romanticism was also his downfall. He had a bad habit of romancing married women, which he wasn't to blame for. It wasn't his fault that they were discontented with their marriage. This habit lead to a very fast-paced series of events in the last year of his life in which he had to learn how to fight, in order to defend himself from his former lovers' ex-husbands. He did fairly well, but the last ex managed to break into his house and stab him to death with his own pen. Most of his lovers went to his funeral, and there was a fairly massive turnout, including family and friends. Now he waits in the penthouse for a job, and chats it up with his companions.
Greatest Love: The concept of 'Romance', in all forms.
Greatest Fear: Those that would do terrible things in the name of 'love'. This is a perversion of all Randy sees as good, and it terrifies him.
Stunning Weapon: Colt M45 that he had bought to fight the exes.
Sealing Weapon: His fountain pen.

𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕊𝔸𝔾𝔸 𝕆𝔽 𝕍𝕀ℕ𝔻𝔼ℝ𝕍𝔸𝕃𝕃

Combat is combat, and there is no distinction. All combat has one end result. Dead men.