CorviDoggo

⌬ Game of Masters ⌬

Macbeth “Mac” Krally

[ 22 ] | [ 5’4’’ ] | [ he/him ]

Mac fought tooth and nail to get the life he has now. Maybe, physically he was weak, a new sickness hitting him maybe once a month, but he’s cunning enough to make up for it. He survived just about everything— for fuck’s sake, he had to grow up in an environment where his father led a gang. The sickly, floral smell of rotting bodies and the iron of blood and organs and the chemicals from whatever was being made in the underground labs still haunts the back of his head, and that wasn’t even the worst of it.
He won’t talk about what “the worst of it” is, but everyone around him knew he used to talk constantly, with a passionate and fiery personality, happy to spit fire and hatred to those who block his path. While now he’s entirely mute and a gnarly scar stretches across his neck, he still will spit fire with sign language.
He’s a survivor, alright, through and through. He finally has peace— a house, a husband, half-siblings he only barely learned about— yes, they have ups and downs, but he clawed his way for the ups and downs he gets to have now. He’ll do anything to keep it.

• • •

{ STR -- 5 } || { DEX -- 13 } || { CON -- 11 }
───
{ INT -- 10} || { WIS -- 16 } || { CHA -- 15 }

```

⌬ Game of Masters ⌬

HEADS UP I got another lad incoming
I already told Baph who but it may take me a while to write him up because he is Definitely A Character

⌬ Game of Masters ⌬

Ipomoea sighed.
Another late night, another graveyard shift. Though— since Ipomoea started working at the Quarter-Moon cafe, he noticed the graveyard shift become quite lively. He played with that thought in his head as he meticulously wiped down the counter, thinking of how if this time was a graveyard then everyone must be undead. Maybe that would make him the most normal one there, in the small cafe full of curtains and crystals and candles and whatever else the owners thought to decorate this place with. Ipomoea knew that most of the nick-knacks in there were fake, of course. His golden eyes scanned over the flimsy tarot cards on display with half the minor arcana missing, then to the sets of quartz and random assorted “minerals” that were actually plastic with no energy to their name. Even the magic books on the shelves were entirely absent of any words whatsoever, just printed cardboard blanks glued into a cheap bookshelf. As much as an enchantment to let in the vast night sky would be a beautiful thing, the ceiling was instead covered edge to edge with tacky glow-in-the-dark star and moon decals. He let his gaze land on the draped curtains of “enchanted silk” or what-have-you at the door, which was actually just a translucent polyester.
Of course, Ipomoea started fifteen minutes early, just to tidy up this cafe— he was alone, after all, and if he started cleaning at Eight pm, he would easily have been overwhelmed balancing orders and housekeeping. Eight was when the evening crowd started to pour in, he knew, and then there would be maybe three or four people still seated by the time it was 3 am and time to close for more cleaning.
Two minutes before Eight. Ipomoea stepped away from the freshly-ground coffee he sorted into bags and then passed over that television mounted to the ceiling, causing it to crackle and glitch for a few seconds until Ipomoea stood at the window. Fortehaven was sure a strange place, not as much of a big, sinful city like those he was given in stories, but it was the closest city he could get, and he was grateful for the honking of horns and the small but functional square he called home and the smell of asphalt and smoke. He could still hear the bustle of night life from the window, and he could still look up to see light pollution and smog instead of clear stars.
The espresso machine was already pulling two shots for a certain regular Ipomoea knew would arrive at eight. When the gaudy owl clock finally struck and hooed eight times, however, some… figure sucked the light and sound out of the outside as they walked in.

⌬ Game of Masters ⌬

@Baphominiyou see. I have absolutely no idea what you mean
But sounds good to me!

⌬ Game of Masters ⌬

Braindead boy has officially been dropped ehehehe

⌬ Game of Masters ⌬

Ipomoea “Glory” Morning-Glory

{25}|{6’5”}|{he/him}

The first thing everyone notices about the barista taking the night shift is his bright yellow eyes, the golden color reflecting off the dim lights and candles in the kitchsy cafe he works at like a cat’s. Ipomoea shares little about his background, but with his pitiful lack of knowledge on the society around him and the way he’s memorized every religious text from cover to cover, it’s obvious this man grew up in some sort of cult. He’s stated before, while wiping down tables and picking up leftover coffee cups, that he technically has no surname— he only chose Morning-glory because that’s what his name meant, and when no one could pronounce “Ipomoea” he settled for the nickname “Glory.”
Now, this specific cafe, Quarter-Moon Cafe, has the strange, tanned barista as a sort of attraction. Among all the witchy paraphernalia, Ipomoea fit perfectly— not just with his bright yellow eyes, but with his extensive knowledge of magick and religious practices, his kind but blunt way of speaking, and his great late-night coffee. He’s been working there since he first popped up into town a few years ago, still ringing in every customer with an old-timey cash register as the tablets seem to short-circuit every time he taps them. Now, though, Ipomoea looked forward to a certain regular with beautiful blue eyes, a young man who always waited for him to finish cleaning machines and countertops just to spend a bit more time together. It was the first time in a long time Ipomoea felt like he had a future, being in that cafe, making friends, talking to people— it was as if his yellow eyes glowed brighter with each reason he had to smile.
Alas, fate is cruel.

• • •

{STR — 12} || {DEX — 12} || {CON — 18}
───
{INT — 20} || {WIS — 5} || {CHA — 3}

⌬ Game of Masters ⌬

Question! Should there be like a group chat for this or is the ooc here good enough?

⌬ Game of Masters ⌬

God has forsaken us and we’re making it your problem
Anyways let me brainstorm on how to redo Ipomea and I’ll come knocking at ur IC door