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It had started with pain: sharp, agonizing, and crippling pain that pierced his forehead, surging through his brain before slamming painfully against the back of his skull. It felt as if he was going to die. And at that moment, Elijah wanted nothing else. Smacking his lips, his eyes shot as he gasped for air. Every movement he made, no matter how slight, sent a wave of agony roaring up his spine, blurring his vision and causing his throat to burn with a renewed sense of thirst. Dazed and confused, he stumbled to his feet, clumsily brushing off his overcoat before staggering forward. He wiped away the tears that streamed down his cheeks, stifling a cough as his gaze shifted skyward.
A tree.
It was a colossal, dead, white tree.
While impressed that a plant could grow to such heights, he found himself much more intrigued by what was on it. A lantern dangled off one of the many gnarled branches that jutted out from the tree, swaying gently in the breeze as it steadily pulsed an amethyst hue. And it was through this sight that ELijah found himself being overtaken with a sense of fear; inexplicable and foreboding terror that seemed to permeate his skin and seep into the very depths of his mortal soul.
This was short lived, however, when he noticed two figures moving in front of him.
"H-Hello?" He choked out, the pitch of his voice sounding more like a sob than a greeting.
Suddenly, a fire leaped up and roared throughout his belly, causing him to lurch forward and frantically clasp his hands around his knees. He hunched over in pain, groaning loudly as a stream of red bile came forth from his throat, splattering the ground and tainting the earth with its crimson hue.
"Oh God, what the fuck?" He mumbled, wiping his mouth as he struggled to regain his composure.
The forest was dim and damp, and the cool breeze danced lightly upon his skin and caressed his cheeks with kisses of ice.
He had to follow them.
- Last Seen: 8 mos ago
- Old Guild Username: #NoFriends
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- Bozo 11 yrs ago
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Most Recent Posts
EPISODE ONE.
OKAY. WHO FORGOT TO PAY THE POWER BILL?
I'll get my post up tomorrow after work.
I really hope that I don't die.
Just one more character!
And thanks everyone, I didn't know it was -that- funny.
And posted!
I tried to make it funny, seeing as this will be a comedy rp.
Character Sheet
"Does anyone have a lighter?"
Name:
Atasuke Yoshizaki
Cliché:
Chain Smoking, Sake Drinking, Salary Man On The Edge of A Mental Breakdown
Age:
Too Old For This Shit.
(Idk man, like 30.)
Gender:
Male
Personality:
Are you implying he doesn't?
What the fuck did you just fucking say about him, you little bitch? I’ll have you know he graduated top of his class in Highschool, and he's been involved in numerous secret powerpoint presentations with the Board of Directors, and has have over 300 confirmed overtime office hours. He is trained in office warfare and he's the employee of the month -every- month in the entire desk jockey league. You are nothing to him but just another consumer. He will file the fuck out of 21-B forms with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth. Mark his fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to him over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak he is contacting his secret network of clients across Japan and your financial portfolio is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your social security. You’re fucking broke, kid. He can be anywhere, anytime, and he can decline your loan in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with his stapler. Not only is he extensively trained in sticky note combat, but he has access to the entire office supply closet of the (GENERIC CORPORATION GOES HERE) and will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable credit score off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy bankruptcy your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. He will shit whiteout all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo.
Abilities:
This man can beat anyone in a drinking contest, socially out-smoke the toughest Frenchman with his lungs of iron, and type up the monthly expenditure report faster than you can say, "Can you-."
He also knows the long lost art of "Office Warfare," which mainly consists of using common workplace items as weapons.
(Idk man, he'll shank you with a ballpoint pen.)
"Does anyone have a lighter?"
Name:
Atasuke Yoshizaki
Cliché:
Chain Smoking, Sake Drinking, Salary Man On The Edge of A Mental Breakdown
Age:
Too Old For This Shit.
(Idk man, like 30.)
Gender:
Male
Personality:
Are you implying he doesn't?
What the fuck did you just fucking say about him, you little bitch? I’ll have you know he graduated top of his class in Highschool, and he's been involved in numerous secret powerpoint presentations with the Board of Directors, and has have over 300 confirmed overtime office hours. He is trained in office warfare and he's the employee of the month -every- month in the entire desk jockey league. You are nothing to him but just another consumer. He will file the fuck out of 21-B forms with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth. Mark his fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to him over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak he is contacting his secret network of clients across Japan and your financial portfolio is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your social security. You’re fucking broke, kid. He can be anywhere, anytime, and he can decline your loan in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with his stapler. Not only is he extensively trained in sticky note combat, but he has access to the entire office supply closet of the (GENERIC CORPORATION GOES HERE) and will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable credit score off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy bankruptcy your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. He will shit whiteout all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo.
Abilities:
This man can beat anyone in a drinking contest, socially out-smoke the toughest Frenchman with his lungs of iron, and type up the monthly expenditure report faster than you can say, "Can you-."
He also knows the long lost art of "Office Warfare," which mainly consists of using common workplace items as weapons.
(Idk man, he'll shank you with a ballpoint pen.)Well, this looks dandy. Count me in.
Character Sheet
Name:
Elijah Bower
Age:
28
Appearance:
Occupation:
Chancellor
Personality:
During his service as chancellor for the Count of his town, Elijah has grown to be, if anything, eloquent. Constantly being around nobles and rubbing shoulders with those of higher status, his etiquette is refined and rehearsed to his Lord's satisfaction. However, he never forgets his roots, and always remembers to help the poor and downtrodden. After all, politeness can only get one so far.
History:
It was paperwork. It always had been. Being Count Holland's chancellor always entailed such menial tasks; it almost made Bower wish he'd never left the clergy. Either way, there were nights he was in his office, alone, with nothing but the fainting flame of a dripping candle to keep him company. It had been like this for years, another day of working as his Lord frolicked around the parlor downstairs with something or another. Nobles always had a habit of overindulging; the records he kept of their finance expenditures always proved to be sufficient evidence. It was something he could never understand, how the upper echelons of society were indifferent to the madness that went on outside. He often kept such thoughts to himself, occasionally sipping on a flask of hippocras, the spiced wine dancing merrily upon his lips.
Getting drunk.
Getting work done.
Rinse and repeat.
Only this time, he may have consumed a little too much.
Why was he in a forest?
Occupation:
Chancellor
Personality:
During his service as chancellor for the Count of his town, Elijah has grown to be, if anything, eloquent. Constantly being around nobles and rubbing shoulders with those of higher status, his etiquette is refined and rehearsed to his Lord's satisfaction. However, he never forgets his roots, and always remembers to help the poor and downtrodden. After all, politeness can only get one so far.
History:
It was paperwork. It always had been. Being Count Holland's chancellor always entailed such menial tasks; it almost made Bower wish he'd never left the clergy. Either way, there were nights he was in his office, alone, with nothing but the fainting flame of a dripping candle to keep him company. It had been like this for years, another day of working as his Lord frolicked around the parlor downstairs with something or another. Nobles always had a habit of overindulging; the records he kept of their finance expenditures always proved to be sufficient evidence. It was something he could never understand, how the upper echelons of society were indifferent to the madness that went on outside. He often kept such thoughts to himself, occasionally sipping on a flask of hippocras, the spiced wine dancing merrily upon his lips.
Getting drunk.
Getting work done.
Rinse and repeat.
Only this time, he may have consumed a little too much.
Why was he in a forest?I guess I'll give it a whirl.
Character Sheet
Name:
Elijah Bower
Age:
28
Appearance:
Occupation:
Chancellor
Personality:
During his service as chancellor for the Count of his town, Elijah has grown to be, if anything, eloquent. Constantly being around nobles and rubbing shoulders with those of higher status, his etiquette is refined and rehearsed to his Lord's satisfaction. However, he never forgets his roots, and always remembers to help the poor and downtrodden. After all, politeness can only get one so far.
History:
It was paperwork. It always had been. Being Count Holland's chancellor always entailed such menial tasks; it almost made Bower wish he'd never left the clergy. Either way, there were nights he was in his office, alone, with nothing but the fainting flame of a dripping candle to keep him company. It had been like this for years, another day of working as his Lord frolicked around the parlor downstairs with something or another. Nobles always had a habit of overindulging; the records he kept of their finance expenditures always proved to be sufficient evidence. It was something he could never understand, how the upper echelons of society were indifferent to the madness that went on outside. He often kept such thoughts to himself, occasionally sipping on a flask of hippocras, the spiced wine dancing merrily upon his lips.
Getting drunk.
Getting work done.
Rinse and repeat.
Only this time, he may have consumed a little too much.
Why was he in a forest?
Occupation:
Chancellor
Personality:
During his service as chancellor for the Count of his town, Elijah has grown to be, if anything, eloquent. Constantly being around nobles and rubbing shoulders with those of higher status, his etiquette is refined and rehearsed to his Lord's satisfaction. However, he never forgets his roots, and always remembers to help the poor and downtrodden. After all, politeness can only get one so far.
History:
It was paperwork. It always had been. Being Count Holland's chancellor always entailed such menial tasks; it almost made Bower wish he'd never left the clergy. Either way, there were nights he was in his office, alone, with nothing but the fainting flame of a dripping candle to keep him company. It had been like this for years, another day of working as his Lord frolicked around the parlor downstairs with something or another. Nobles always had a habit of overindulging; the records he kept of their finance expenditures always proved to be sufficient evidence. It was something he could never understand, how the upper echelons of society were indifferent to the madness that went on outside. He often kept such thoughts to himself, occasionally sipping on a flask of hippocras, the spiced wine dancing merrily upon his lips.
Getting drunk.
Getting work done.
Rinse and repeat.
Only this time, he may have consumed a little too much.
Why was he in a forest?Interested.
Can we expect adventure?
Can we expect adventure?
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