Avatar of dereken
  • Last Seen: 6 yrs ago
  • Old Guild Username: dereken
  • Joined: 11 yrs ago
  • Posts: 578 (0.15 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. dereken 11 yrs ago

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Name: Howard Fairchild

Alias: Meat

Age: 23

Gender: Male (Before powers manifested)

Appearance:

Howard's moniker is well earned, as most of the time, he appears to be a human sized mass of roiling flesh, bone, tooth, and organ. Unless he's trying, he tends toward a shapeless blob, but if he needs something done, his body reshapes itself to the most efficient, and usually most disgusting, solution. While these forms have a general shape, they are never streamlined, and even when he does something twice, he cannot produce the exact same form every time.

Personality Strengths: Howard is unceasingly friendly, and genuinely wants to help people. He hopes a constant positive attitude will help others look past his repulsive appearance. He tempers this friendliness with knowledge that most will not do so, and so opts to wait for others to approach before embracing them. Metaphorically embracing them.

Personality Flaws: Despite his friendliness, Howard is an indelible pessimist. He thinks the worst of others, and expects others to treat him poorly. It causes him to shrink away from others, as he knows the reaction he will draw. Unless he is needed, Howard will avoid contact and exposure to civilian populations.

Powers: Flesh Mold: Howard can mold his fleshy, bloody form with some form of control. He can produce basic shapes, such as humanoid, or four-legged beasts, as well as more alien designs. These forms can have a number of uses, such as increased speed, or better articulation. However, he keeps the same mass no matter what form he takes, and holding forms for extended periods exhausts him.

Bone Weaponry: In addition to his flesh molding to his desires, so too can he control the cancerous bone growth. Howard can produce bone weapons, wielded with half formed limbs, or even on end of undulating tentacles. Most weaponry is a variation on a shredding blade, or a bludgeoning mass. To continually form weapons expends energy much like Flesh Form does, and the weapons, no matter how grisly, are still little more than human bone and tissue twisted into new design.
Biomass Retention: Howard is a troubling thing to kill, as it is hard to identify the 'vitals' of a blob monster. In addition, his body is hardy, and can, with extreme consumption, replenish its biomass. His body will shift to accommodate such consumption, organs and torso shifting into a single orifice, lined with shredding, sharpened bone to break down whatever he consumes. While in this state, Howard is mostly defenseless, and his movement is limited, as his form is focused entirely on eating. He cannot grow past a certain set mass, approximately that of a full grown cow, and the larger he grows, the harder it is for him to maintain. As he grows, so too does his physical aptitude, however his average mass is slightly less of a normal human male.

Skills: Major Skills: -Negotiation: Howard has a way with words that often does not come out. When he tries, and his body cooperates, he can be both elegant and persuasive.
Bluff: Just as he can be a convincing speaker, so too is Howard a convincing liar. Of course, a poker face is all the easier when your face is a dozen eyes arranged about what could only be described as a head in the most generous of circumstances.
-Cooking: Howard was an aspiring chef before his mutation, and even afterward he continued practicing his cooking skills. Few ever take him up on his offers to prepare food. Despite this, the ability to produce extra olfactory and taste sensors have actually improved his cooking.
Minor Skills-Percussion: Another skill from before his change, Howard spent time in his school's band. He has trouble adapting these skills over to his new form, as producing equally sized limbs is often a troubling task.
-Humor: Howard is quick with a joke, mostly at his own expense.
-History Trivia: A penchant for the weird and unusual, Howard devoured historical factbooks in his youth, and now disgorges this information whenever he finds it relevant. If in pleasant company.
Weapons: Bio-weapons described in 'Powers' section.

Equipment: None.

History: For the first half oh his life, Howard was exceptionally normal. Born and raised in midwest America, Howard was an old child, and apple of his parent's eye. When he went to school and mixed in with his peers, Howard was naturally social, and made friends quickly. As he grew, he took on interests and talents, jumping from club to club and sport to sport. When he started cooking he excelled, taking whatever classes and clubs he could if it involved cooking. Through elementary, middle, and even early high school, Howard was a cheerful, popular, and well liked individual.

This changed at the end of his high-school days. It started simply, a few skin lesions on his arm, a cut not healing properly. The doctor said it require watching, but it wasn't anything major. It didn't even hurt. Weeks turned to months, and it only got worse. The lesions grew to open, bloody sores, and every nick, cut and scrape bled and oozed. Over the course of this last year, the condition worsened quickly. He was left alone in his growing deterioration, Howard's peers were terrified of him. The last straw was when his arm snapped in half, trying to pick up a pile of books. He was rushed to the hospital.

Howard's arm liquefied, losing form, and melting into him. From there it spread, his skin sloughed off in bloody chunks, his body fat and organ tissue bubbled away. Howard was barely human-shaped when the government stepped in. He was quarantined, taken away to a black-site, special facility for the housing of metahumans 'unfit' for regular society. In this facility, Howard began to take control of his destruction. He found his body, while resembling nothing alike any living creature, still responded to his commands. He could control his mass, and even find ways to change it over time. He took his first new step two years after quarantine, forcing himself up off the padded floor of his cell, and stretching a tendril out to open the door. Two weeks later he was adapting at an alarming rate, able to function as a normal human being. As his powers developed, Howard's file was forwarded to the Charles Xavier school for Gifted Youngsters. He was immediately rejected. He simply wouldn't fit in with the others. No, his file would be transferred to Rogue-X. Less glamorous, but at least his form was out of the public eye.
@AngelofOctober
Awesome! If you don't mind, I think I'll send you a rough draft first, and then you can tell me what needs work, and then I can post it proper.

That work fine?
I'm interested. If you're willing to accept me, I can begin work on a CS.

That probably won't be done til this evening.
You'll be right, alright? Come back whenever life permits.
Yikk, Yakk, & Yukk

The figure turned one final time to address the bartender, once again placing coins on the table. "I will take a room for the night. There is extra if you bring food tonight." The bartender nodded, taking the coin. A hand reached out from the cloak, and picked up the mug in front of it, holding the drink close to the concealing robe. The bartender produced a key, which was taken in another hand, and stored within the cloak. The figure stalked off toward its room, and upon entering, locked the door behind it.



The night was spent simply as Yikk, Yakk and Yukk relaxed. Only needing to reform to take the meal from the innkeeper, the trio spent the night eating and drinking their fill, the human sized portions more than enough for three small creatures to split. The next morning, the trio reformed, and cloaked themselves to leave. The innkeeper, and what few patrons stayed the night, watched as Dru'marish dropped a key on the counter, and walked out the door.

On the road away from the building, the trio remained stacked as they marched. They would split apart once they were safe and away from civilization. As they were about to split up, Yakk noticed a figure up along the robe. It was a human, armed and armored, with bows, knives, swords, and likely more hidden. The cloaked figure came to a stop. "Hail, friend!" Yakk called out to the stranger as he subtly shifted position under the cloak. All three kobolds were preparing to throw aside the cloak and spring into action, just in case.
Caractacus

Caractacus trailed behind the party, head lowered, and a shambling corpse between him and the others. He of course didn't mind walking, he had been doing so for days. He did mind marching on an empty stomach, but he doubted such concerns needed voicing. The knightess had already mentioned food was scarce, and it was not as though he would receive priority. Caractacus clenched his eyes shut a moment and berated his own weakness. He couldn't focus on his tired feet, his various aches and pains, nor the growing pit of hunger in his gut. No, his focus had to be making it to his next destination.

The day passed on slowly. It seemed his captors were in far greater spirits than he. Caractacus did his best to shut out the axeman's singing, and hadn't noticed they'd reached a town until he near walked into the person in front of him. Stumbling to a stop, Caractacus looked toward the village. Despite it looking completely undamaged by the war, it still held the gloomy atmosphere of a town occupied. The axeman reminded Caractacus of his promise to the knightess, and he nodded. "Yes, yes, right, I shall l-leave it..." Caractacus detested doing so even more than destroying the guardsman. Still, he had given his, what little that mattered coming from a necromancer, and he wanted to avoid trouble with the townsfolk and the warriors.

Caractacus ordered his zombie to wait further outside town, near a small copse of trees. When he turned back, Caractacus saw that his small band had already wandered into town. He cursed his luck, were he not so low on supplies he could simply turn tail and disappear. With a sigh, Caractacus made his way into town, trying to find somewhere he could get something to eat to start. Inevitably he ambled to the center of town, naturally interested in the crowd. The townspeople gave him a berth, and despite his efforts to blend in, the cloaked figure of Caractacus' stood out sorely. Just as Caractacus caught sight of the party, a youth in the center of the mob pointed them out, beseeching their aid. Ysran and the knightess immediately agreed to help.

Caractacus sighed, resigned to be dragged along on whatever whim these villagers imposed upon the party.
Working on a post now, so I can actually have one up on the day I said I would.
Post up tomorrow. Work tonight. I plan on doing two.
Awesome possum! Lordy knows Caractacus would've fucked up if he tried to start an adventure.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet