Fetzen

Apocalypse Not

I'll start working on Satan.

The Sunday Group - The Flicker Cases

Good luck with the RP everyone.

Apocalypse Not

I'm quite intrigued by this. If I have time I might come and try an application :)

The Sunday Group - The Flicker Cases

Artur Syon

Artur Syon

Appearance:

Concept picture

'Flamboyant red hair' probably is the first thing that comes to the average onlooker's mind upon seeing Artur for the first time. He indeed has got quite the mess of it that reaches well down to his shoulders, but his pretty face is also framed by a well maintained beard of equal color running along his jawline. His eyes are gray and slightly striking, but otherwise there's nothing conspicuous around his head area.

Artur stands at 6'2 with a slightly above-average build and prefers to clad himself in what most people would consider to be an anachronism. He however thinks that a leather trenchcoat with rich decorations depicting flowers or other, more abstract shapes etched onto it is just perfectly fine for getting around casually outside. Since it goes down almost to his feet one hardly notices that at least his pants, a pair of black jeans, are more modern styled. For the everyday office treadmill he has a white shirt with decorations stitched on it, too. He usually wears at least thin cloth gloves, for reasons that are obvious once he doesn't.


Concept:

Artur's mother and her husband were both magically talented individuals, but have kept this a secret from the very beginning. She had realized quite early that magic did by no way mean that all classical human knowledge and explorative efforts were worth any less, so there had never been a reason for her to abandon her highly respected researcher's position at an advanced physics institute. She could merely not dare to talk about her supernatural touch with any of her colleagues for it would likely have been interpreted as a not so acceptable expansion of current theories and standard models.

So she found herself in sort of a dilemma situation: If even computing could do magic, then there was so much potential for improvements on some very important experiments, but surroundings would not stop being so terribly conservative easily. Secretly trying to perform... modifications... however brought with it the risk of discovery or failure for the lack of a whole team as a resource. She tried it anyway, smuggling both equipment out of the facility and her husband in for assistance. Hoping that a few inofficial tours behind the scenes and some hands-on experience (that is... pressing a few buttons on fancy machines believing they'd actually be enabled) would instigate their son's desire to follow the path of his parents, they brought the young boy Artur in, too.

That was until one of the modified experiments, turned on in the middle of the night and with all cameras and logging systems bypassed, experienced a malfunction. The attempt to draw raw power from another realm beyond earth hooked up to a different dimension than the one originally intended, so what came out of the portal was not ready, or willing, to be consumed by the machinery. Feeling that it had been sucked out of its home, the demonic entity instantly turned highly aggressive, broke out, ruined the lab and killed Artur's parents.

Yet in the process it also destroyed the apparatus holding open the portal that was its only way back. The creature realized it had condemned itself to be alone in a foreign space, so it turned to its only hope left for salvaging its own kind in this unknown world: reproduction. No female needed in this case, however. Only... a proper, suitable host that most importantly was still alive. It happened while Artur had been knocked out of consciousness, so he never got to know that this kind of thing actually happened to him at this point.

The next day, it was believed that some kind of terrible incident had occured, but none of the investigators had knowledge of the supernatural and thus failed to figure out what truly happened, also the creature had disappeared. Artur, now an orphan child, was adopted by another couple who lived in the Chicago area. Little did he or his new surroundings know that what 'impregnated' him was only waiting for him to reach adulthood, yet at the same time was not adapted to both ordinary human nature and Artur's magical heritage. No Xenomorph baby or other shit burst out of his chest at his 20th-or-something birthday, but... he started to change.


Powers/Skills:

Artur's never been truly assimilated by his infestation, but has managed to maintain the upper hand in terms of control over himself. In fact this means that he is able to tap into newfound prowess that is the result of his demon merger. However, compared to what the creature it originally came from was able to do, it is limited. You will notice that beneath those gloves and shoes he usually wears are claws that, albeit relatively small, are sharp to the touch. Just like his teeth. Anyone still interested in a mélée might learn that his bones, muscles and skin are quite a tad more dense, powerful and sturdy than they should be, but much to Artur's unfortune this doesn't really help against bullets and has not exactly improved his overall speed. He still needs stuff like his heart or lungs without too many holes in them, you know ?

Having been able to deal with the street thugs of the run-down block of town he lives in with his own methods so far, Artur's never really seen the need to pick up some firearm's training. He'd be a novice shooter to say the least, but to his excuse he keeps claiming that the bang of a bullet would be too much for his 'hypersensitive' ears on the long run, let alone the muzzle fire of something on full auto! There is reason to believe that the demon that approached him came from a plane where things are much more quiet than on earth, otherwise developing auditory and visual senses that improve detection capabilities as much as they are easy to be overloaded and turn even worse than your average eyes or ears for the exact same reason doesn't make much sense.

Oh, and his personality has become a little more... unstable. As easy going and relaxed as he is in most circumstances, he starts to accelerate into some sort of rage and recklessness once being attacked in a manner too nasty or once he's started to draw the blood of his foes.


Things your character wants to happen (probably won't):
Being accepted and valued for what he is in his entirity, and maybe find out more about what he himself really is now.


Things you as a writer want to happen (maybe will):
Monster killing or other forms of action, puzzles, crime solving and interesting interaction with the other characters.


Writing sample:
I participated in the last iteration of this and hope you still remember me :)

The Sunday Group - The Flicker Cases

I will try to scratch my application together this evening or tomorrow.

What's the deadline ? If I should fail to deliver until it then please don't wait for me.

Blades of the Blood Coast

Lorcan

As the minutes passed, Lorcan found it increasingly easy to truly watch what was going on despite the room being so busy. No headache yet, but that could still come despite the fact that his mind had apparently adapted to the plethora of information and successfully started to just skip everything of obvious non-importance. Therefore, pretty much the only thing left on his observation schedule was the table where 'Sabers & Shields' was played. An interesting game, but just like any other game primarily based on chance it was prone to one or more of its players not being able to stand a series of bad luck. The outburst would come, sooner or later, that was what the Skayleigh expected. If not now than later on when the stakes were even higher and, more importantly, more alcohol was in the players' heads, too.

Someone barking something made the half-giant turn his heads away from the game and towards the window, They had knights down here ? At least that was his very first impression of the blonde man. Then the other maybe was his squire or the like ? The two consumed so much of Lorcan's attention that he didn't realize the elven scholar until the latter was almost out of sight around the next corner. Then the sailors passed by and destroyed all his assumptions about the muscled boy being some sort of 'squire'. That was... unless servants not serving a knight but a tavern were called 'squires' down here, too!

Some of the barmaid's words did reach his pointy hears and burned into his head. Trouble ? Why should there be any significant trouble with some food and beverages that would merely last for another week anyway ? Except for the greedy guards Valorne so far had given the impression of a rather civilized place. It probably was nothing, but Lorcan felt some kind of eagerness to take a look behind the scenes.

It would be rather unappropriate to even try that as long as Raddek was gesturing him to come towards the others though. Rooms for them sounded good, but helping the innkeeper out 'with a few things' did not. And then, as the half-elf had come closer and could listen their so-far-leader's other words, things started to merge and fall into place. So that crate had likely contained nothing but... beer ? That felt a little hilarious in the first moment.

"Erm... What exactly is a 'dark auction shipper' ? Sounds like a special term local to this place for me. And do we need to fine one, or do we need to find a specific one ?" he asked, trying to keep his tone low and the need for discretion about this information was pretty obvious.

Blades of the Blood Coast

So in preparation of my post I noticed that a question has popped up:

Does Raddek address Lorcan to move towards the others and lean in as well ? I'm asking because he sits a bit away from Migi and Jaina.

Winds of Fate - A Thieves' Adventure (Semi-Tabletop)

Skarsat

Neh'miah's words caused a chill feeling to erupt somewhere down on Skarsat's big spine and to surge upwards right into his head. Spontaneously trying to find someone who might share the same feeling, the Tork turned his head towards Percival and looked the man into the face. Was he really the only one who had an extremely bad feeling about the thief's happy announcement about Gerranti not being on the street being 'excellent' ?

Skarsat's worries would most likely have been tremendously much more intense had either he or Vargas' left hand known that, at this point, the whole assumption of this statement was no longer true in the first place. The sheriff had left the building already and Neh'miah was right about to jump out of it and into the streets below...

However, without that kind of updated knowledge, Skarsat saw little alternative to Neh'miah's route. In fact it did appear not so unappealing to himself for it would spare him from having to walk through the main hall and past the sheriff and his guards with both the key and, more importantly, that small package Percy had just given him. How many 'helping hands' of a busy tavern had nothing more important to do than to move around some small parcels that definitely and obviously did not contain any cooking ingrediends, except for maybe exquisite spices ? That thing was an open invitation for some sort of inspection that would hold things up and pose a danger in itself for sure.

So the Tork followed the thief's route towards the window and lifted his legs and butt onto the opening's frame with surprising ease after having moved his head through to the other side first. Yet as he already prepared for the jump there was a grinding noise and Skarsat's attempt to lean forwards further came to a rather abrupt stop. His shoulders were too broad!

Not too broad in the sense that even some simple wiggling and squeezing wouldn't be able to do the trick, but the otherwise smooth surface of his leather shoulder pieces was disrupted where two leather patches had been stitched together with some necessary overlap. The edge of the window's wooden frame now was pushing against the leading edge of said overlap and threatening to lift the upper piece up and tear the seam apart if he'd just try to force his way through.

He could easily have decided to just revert the process and get back in, but why should he do that if there was a helping hand just behind him that could fix this minor issue ?

"Erm... Percy ?" the Tork addressed him with some apparent embarrassment. "Can you help with this ?"

"You mean whether I can lend a helping foot to my very first guest who wants to be kicked out of the tavern ? No problem!"

"No! I meant can you just push these sea..."

Skarsat's words, as far as he could get them out, already mixed up with the noise of Percy picking up momentum inside. The latter could kick surprisingly hard, though absolutely not to his excuse one might add that he was exceptionally motivated and probably slightly impaired in his thinking by some serious hyper-nervosity!

The Tork now found himself following the fixed laws of gravity in a less than controlled descent which, given the falling height, would hardly last for a second. Also, since Percy had added some considerable horizontal momentum to the whole equation, Skarsat would land further out on the street than he had intended to do himself. Now there were obstacles down below he had definitely neither anticipated nor silenty hoped for.

He had already opened his mouth to shout out a warning towards ground zero that much more than the legendary Newtonian apple was going to hit when he realized that doing so would also trigger the attention of the guards in and outside the inn which probably was even worse than what was inevitably going to happen next. Skarsat moved knees, feet, shoulders and everything else he could that was not an as-flat-and-smooth-as-possible surface out of the way so hopefully it wouldn't turn out that bad.

The parcel! That damn small packet! What if it contained glass that would be crushed, shatter and pierce both his chest and Neh'miah's back ? He needed to get rid of that, too! The Tork tossed it away at the last moment so he had his hands free for intercepting the impact.

On the good side of things it was quite a bit softer than it might have been had he hit the ground beneath directly! On the other hand though it was clear that a certain, poor thief had to take the brunt of it. Still Skarsat's face hit some piece of cobblestone pretty hard and some piece of broken glass lying around caused a modest cut on it that started to bleed.

As Skarsat rolled to a dead stop he could already feel the anger surge in him. That... Percival! No matter where this blithering idiot would try to hide, he'd get him even if he had to just tear the whole place down! The Tork looked up the window he had just been kicked out of, but nobody was to be seen. Apparently Vargas' helping hand had already realized that he both had done something wrong and that he was dealing with a very angry person capable of handling a bow at this point!

The Sunday Group - Paranormal Detectives

*gently knocks at the door*

Blades of the Blood Coast

Maybe with the next round of rewards for the party there can be a potion of growth to fix any such shorty issues? :)

Lorcan would absolutely not try to get that, too. And hopefully the potion's main ingredient is NOT mutagenic, irradiated Skayleigh blood