Avatar of Descartes
  • Last Seen: 7 yrs ago
  • Joined: 11 yrs ago
  • Posts: 666 (0.17 / day)
  • VMs: 1
  • Username history
    1. Descartes 11 yrs ago
  • Latest 10 profile visitors:

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

"Keep 'em comin' darlin'!" the barmaid replied, a tear in her eye. The chef appeared angry. Roaring, he raised his arms over his head and clasped his hands together. With them, he attempted to pound at Gabriel. "STOP FLIRTING WITH MY DAUGHTER HALF PINT!" he angrily yelled.
The chef bounced up and down, cheering like a monkey. Distracted, he did not notice Gabriel's otherwise attention drawing attack. Hit, the chef curled down. "Ah!" he cried out. He dug his long, finger-like toes into the dirt, taking a firmer stance. The chef torqued his waist back, readying his fists. He punched at Gabriel again. "TAKE THIS!" he shouted.
The crowd cheered for the chef, shouting out. "You go!" and "Kick his ass!". Crystal leaned into the fight. "Come on... Laughing Scorpion!" she cheered. The barmaid put her hands in the air as if to give Gabriel her strength.

The chef turned to his daughter and gritted his teeth. "Punk. My feet ARE my fists!" the chef explained. He took off his shoes, revealing more pairs of hands. "Ain't you ever seen a Galopi before?" he asked.

The galopi are a race of swamp dwelling humanoids known primarily for their prehensile feet and tails. Their males are known to be muscular, almost twice as strong as the average human male. Tails, however, are shown as a taboo in their society. As a coming of age ritual, men cut theirs off. Females are required to keep them hidden under a thick skirt.
Crystal turned to James with a worried look on her face. "...I" she squeaked. Crystal looked out to Gabriel and her father, balling her hands into fists. She looked tense, her expression still slightly conflicted.

The chef took the punch to the face. It looked red, partly from the blow and partly from his anger. "You hit hard for a little squirt!" The chef attempted to punt Gabriel, aiming towards his shins.
Zharkov turned his head slowly to see another opponent enter the ring, declaring himself then moving close. Zharkov scoffed, then as Akira had his arms by Zharkov, Zharkov calmly raised his hands to grab Akira by the wrist. "Privet" he grumbled, throwing Akira aside.

Zharkov turned his attention back to Shah-Nahul, a much more worthy opponent, and clenched his fists. Zharkov gestured with his head for the Mastonoid to make the first move, calmly awaiting the gladiator's attack.
"My daughter ya jack ass!" the chef shouted. He winded up another punch, charging straight towards Gabriel. The barmaid closed her eyes tight, nearly stepping back, wanting to head back into the restaurant and out of the fighting. Several villagers noticed what was happening and joined in, watching Gabriel and the chef fight, cheering either one or the other on. Some even took bets.
A twinkle appeared in Zharkov's eye as he noticed a familiar figure enter the arena. He made a light smile. In response to Shah-Nahul, Zharkov nodded, then puffed a stream of air from his nostrils. "Hello again" he said. His voice, deep, and rich. A thick Pravadovan accent permeated through his tongue. Slowly, Zharkov stepped forward to approach Shah-Nahul, tossing aside the tooth.
When he saw his punch miss, the chef smiled, as if he intended such a thing to happen. His abs tensed, veins popping from the side of his stomach. "HUA!" he shouted. The chef reached his other arm to the back of Gabriel and pushed the halfling, bashing the halfling's head against his chest. "WHAT?" the chef taunted. "IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?" The chef pushed Gabriel away.

"You put up one hell of a deal. You'd may as well put up a fight right?"
Though the chef was strong, he neglected one thing about Gabriel. The chef underestimated Gabriel's short stature and ability to duck under things. As he noticed his grip slipping, the chef turned back to see the halfling again. Turning around, the chef balled up his arms into a fist, winding it up for more power. "STAY AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER YOU MIDGET!" he shouted, throwing the punch aimed toward the halfling's face.
deadpixel101 said
Im seeing a theme of badass drunk old men.


Ha! I noticed first!

ruronihs said
@Descartes: I'll need you to alter a few things to make this character mesh with the setting a bit better. As I told Jerkchicken, civil disputes don't make sense in this setting since everybody has much larger problems to worry about than differing ideologies. Even in a sprawling metropolis, people would still be struggling just to keep the place standing against the wrath of the gods. Now, if you wanted to connect it to the gods, making the foreigners people who want to try submitting to appease their wrath, then this might work better. Or, perhaps they are outright under the influence of the gods and are carrying out their destructive work. The divine light wiping out the monsters wouldn't happen in this world. I have plans for the gods, so right now there can be no divine intervention. How does he maintain his drunken behavior, or even his existence in the village for that matter? The village has a bartering economy. He offers no goods or services, yet he is somehow obtaining what I called a scarce luxury. Trader visits would be very rare, and they wouldn't be lugging around mass quantities of alcohol on the rare occasions that they do visit. Perhaps he could use his healing skills to be a doctor. And, there's two more minor things. I'm going to ask you to nerf your sword a bit. Either limit the substances it can cut through, or reduce the time it glows for to something around a 5-minute range. 30 minutes is a long time for unlimited cutting power. Lastly, just put a bit more description into the shrine.


Alright, I justified the existence of the city by giving it a defense system against the gods. I also made it so that the immigrants arrived thanks to the gods. As for the divine light, I didn't explicitly state it as being divine. I modified it slightly to sound more like simply the event where Alexander discovers his powers.

I didn't want to have Alexander be a doctor because I think that would devalue his power to a mere commodity. In this case, I played up his writing ability so that he wrote for a living, trading stories and poetry in exchange for food and other luxuries. I also gave Alexander a place to stay. If the two drunken masters get accepted, I'll say Alexander gets his beer from them. This way, we can establish a connection between three characters.

Oh, and more detail was added to the shrine.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet