BespeckledCeph

Heaven & Hell meet Earth (working title) -- 14-A/Mature Content - FULL

[James Adams]~~Angel

James' bed was very springy and bouncy, testing this as he bounced on it getting out of bed. He clicked his alarm off, and got ready in the morning. Shower. Clothes. Teeth. Hair. Food. He hadn't told his parents about his abilities, there had always been a disconnect from him and them, they never really got along. This only perpetuated the matter. He grabbed his B-Phone, put in his headphones, put on his jacket, and scarf, and headed out. He was going to go practicing his dragon technique. He though it was incredibly cool to make some ice dragons shoot water out of their mouths, even if it was only for himself.

That thought was thoroughly interrupted though. James tried keeping his hobby a secret, but I guess some of the kids in his town found out. It startled him so much, that his entire act fell to the ground, ice and snow scattered all over.

"Oh look, it's the 'special' kid. Looks like your going to pee your pants. You scared little boy?" He started to beat his hand into his palms.

No, he had the power. James would stand up for himself. He stood his ground, his hands in his pockets, shivering. He was scared, but he wouldn't show it, wouldn't let them get a foothold on him. He sent small shards of ice from the destroyed dragon their way. They came like a condensed hailstorm, and they turned tail and ran, screaming.

"Oh shit! When could he do that?" Whoever told them was going to have to have a nice talk.

He shot one ice shard down, and pinned one running boy to a tree by his pants, and James walked up to him.

"Who told you my hobby? Oh, and don't come back, I'll spare you." He was shaking so much, but he hid it, and put it all into being menacing. The older boy was very apparently scared. His face was pale like he had seen a ghost.

"It was...um....Jim. He lives a ways away in a cottage alone in the woods. Please don't hurt me..." His voice quivered at the last sentence, and pointed a different direction.

"Good boy." James pat his head, and pulled the ice stake from out of the tree. "And remember, don't come back. Spread the word to everyone. Don't Mess With James."

James started in the direction he pointed him to. It wouldn't be to long, and he had a plan...

The Island (Always Accepting New Roleplayers)

Am I slackin, I was going for @Scott Silverado to make next post, anyone else?

Heaven & Hell meet Earth (working title) -- 14-A/Mature Content - FULL

Oh heck, you caught me lackin, i'll get to writing a post ASAP

Steampunk ⚙ Big Ass Monsters

@Traps Could I make a character that is highly into illegal things, like a meth cook or smuggler?

Totally not foreshadowing if this is ok'd

Also what type of "dark" religions are there, if you have none, I could just make one up if that's ok with you

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

Simon was over this meeting. Botrelle was out of here, and so was he. He didn't care much for what the others had to say anyways. He propped himself up, getting himself out of his chair. He was going to need to do 'it' again. He walked a different way than he usually walked, meeting a strange man in an alleyway that Simon to all too well.

"The price has gone up pal. Your going to need to pay more to get the best, it's not cheap to do this, and there is plenty of risk involved, you should know that as a buyer. And if you won't pay, you won't be getting any of my supply, get it pal? It's going to 120 a gram, and I'm bringing 5 in an hour. Meet me by the square, I'll be waiting Mr. Henderson." Simon was very harsh in his tone. He couldn't be nice when he was risking so much.

"Yes...I understand," the man coughed, his shriveled, scraggly face shaking, "It will be hard to get any money Mr. Einstein, but I'll try to scrounge up something. I'll be meeting you in an hour."

Simon encroached on his living quarters, grabbed a large bag, and started to stuff beakers, tubes and other chemical storage into it. He also grabbed some tubing and wires with a bag of cough drops. He then went into an abandoned warehouse he had been using on and of. He needed some privacy, and at the edges of the city, this is where he would get the most possible. Simon dumped out everything, and laid it all out. Everything was ready for the work. He pulled the psuedoephedrine from the tablets, leaving only a powder in the bag, and putting what he was controlling into a flask. He then pulled the oxygen atom from the molecules. A blinding flash and sizzling sound ensued. He jumped a little, but he had done this before. His breath was unsteady, his life would be over in a second if this went wrong, but he knew nothing could. He went through the rest of the process and poured what he had on a sheet, letting it all dry. He then looked at it very closely, looking, and feeling for imperfections. This was his best batch yet. Simon scraped it all off, weighed them, and stored them all in bags.

His spine shivered. A song came to his head, it was all he could grasp to keep his sanity and turn himself in. He didn't like doing this, but a part of him, deep down, enjoyed it. The yelling. The cooking. The killing. He brushed that part aside, and checked in his bag again. Everything was there.

When he strode into the square, there were two guardsmen, and he shivered. It was still day out, even if he thought it had been all day. He was there. He hands shook, it was happening. He sat down next to the man, and murmured.

"You have the cash? I got the stuff."

"Y-Yes I do, all 600." he was as shaky as Simon was, but much more apparent.

"Good, this will be simple then. You give me the cash, I give you the supply."

The man, seeming very reluctant, pulled 6 100 numerals out of his pocket, and handed them to Simon. Simon tipped his head, counting the bills, and stuffing them in his pocket. He pulled a bag of white crystalline substance out of his pocket, and handed it to the man. Simon immediately walked away. It felt like stares were just scrubbing him, looking for any sign of hesitation. His mind was racing.

By the time he got home, it had only been a few hours since he went out of the meeting, but it felt like all day. He went over the bills in his pocket. Success. He would do this a few more times and be covered for a while hopefully. He went out a few more times, making a few more deals, and went to bed, without even thinking. It was so laboring for him to do that, but he did. He had to.

Just a part time job

S-SWAT: Doorkicking, Demons and Drug Busts

I forgot there was another slav in the ranks @Daglobster

Patrol (Military Roleplay In The 20th Century) - Vietnamese-American War

SPC Robert E. Foster, PIGMAN

Point Allocation
Fortitude: 9
Vigilance: 6
Proficiency:9

Physical Description
Robert was born and raised in the good old US of A. Of African American family, he has a large build. His entire head is hairless. He has large eyes and a large jaw. 6'4", 160 lbs, 34 years old

Background
Robert was born in 1938, in the middle of Florida. He didn't get the best grades, and was commonly called names for being an African American, but it never got in his way, and he just ignored them. He was always very physical and visited the gym often. He loved to look at gun magazines with his father, as there family was mostly war veterans. He lied about his age to get into the war at the age of 17, but went up the ranks rather slowly. After 5 years, he was promoted to PFC, 10 years later, SPC. He was very excited to join the war, and was very attracted to the large weapons, M-60's and the like. Not the vigilant type, he relied on his teammates to point out where the enemies were, and he would spray down the location targeted.

Robert was never into politics, and never really cared about the reason for the war, or the person responsible. He wanted to be like his father, a highly decorated war vet. He was very kind to the people he was around. He always went by the mentality that your enemies just need some love, and kindness, and they'll be fine. One reason for this thinking was his heavily christian family. He always carried a cross with him, and knew that he would guide him threw the war as unharmed as possible.

MOS
Pigman- Heavy Gunner

Steampunk ⚙ Big Ass Monsters

Well @ayzrules I also have never played a tabletop RPG (But I would like to) but you don't have to worry to much, it's a lot more simpler than it looks, and questions are always helpful to ask

Steampunk ⚙ Big Ass Monsters

@Traps Yeah, that'd be pretty cool in my eyes as well

@ihinka Though I need to pray before I play just in case the Geek and Sundry curse comes after me

The Revenant

*Double @WestWall Cough*