Not bad , but certainly not as good as he was expecting.
Although he had made a prayer to the spirits of the earth, he was somewhat disheartened that he seemingly hadn't recieved an answer or sign of any kind. Regardless, he was indeed happy that he may have found something he could use to help Danny. As he began to float toward the strange flower, he summoned his skill list, hoping to find out how much progress; if any, he'd made on his various skills.
[Will Insert list here at some point when I get to a computer]
Where did Minor Heal I come from?
Had that been how the earth had aided him? Maybe it had tried answering him, but due to his current lack of [Tremor Sense], he hadn't quite been able to read the signs.
"System, how did I gain Minor Heal I?"
Awaiting its response, Jason hovered before the flower, pushing his mana into the air around him; attempting to map the flow of the light, airy mana he had felt when he first started developing the skill back in the cave. Staying like this for several long moments (or at least until the skill ticked over) he then began looking the flower over, searching for an easily removable piece that seemingly contained a decent amount of soap. Once he did, Jason manifested thine tip of a pseudopod with [Ghost Touch], tearing the piece off. Quickly, the ecto slime would weaken the strength of his [Ghost Touch] immediately, maintaining the skill just enough that he could carry it over to Danny and press it into his friend's wound, the sticky sap then hold.
Sapping mana off to bring himself to full with [Mana Drain], focusing as much as he could on not losing a single whisper of Danny's mana, he pressed his pseudopod against the leaf stuck to his friend's back. Focusing his mind, making his mana surge, he called forth his memories of all the times he had used [Spell Chant] how it felt, how it functioned, how he had used it and brought it forth. Using [Guidence] as the base, he began to chant in a solemn yet determined whisper, guiding the magic in and through the leaf into Danny's injured flesh. "Earth guide my hand. May your will merge with my own. Let this blessed union of nature and soul heal this wounded body."
Appearance: Beneath the wide brim of his dark brown, and nearly black chapeu, is the face of a man who at one time may have been quite handsome. Rough stubble streaches across his rather chiseled jawline and up into his hair; the only interruption being the large scar upon his right cheek. A deep burn; shaped like a gash reaches from just below the right corner of his mouth, to a bit before his earlobe. Extending from the main body of the scar are several long red arcs vaguely reminiscent of electricity, the the deepest (and longest for that matter) of which span up into his brow, across the bridge of his nose, and down the side of his neck.
His eyes; an icy shade of blue, are cold, hollow and focused. Should he every take off his hat, the somewhat thin hair beneath is a dark brown, yet almost coated with a matte finish of gray, and is always neatly combed to the right side.
His attire is that of a hardy leather tail coat and vest that match the color of his hat. On his dark belt, there are two holsters carrying a pair of twin six-shooter bolt pistols, many small loops to hold ammunition, as well as a buttoned loop holding a vaguely metallic lasso. The dark leather gloves he wears have noticably metallic fingertips, and if one were to look closely, crude circuitry travels within the leather from these fingertips, and up into his tailcoat.
Personality: A twisted reflection of the man that once was, Jacob is cruel, sadistic and vulgar to almost a fine point. He loves nothing more than the thrill of breaking another person, and running down any who try to flee. Cheating, lying and theft are not necessarily below him, but he enjoys the previously mentioned evils far more than the subtleties of mindgames and trickery.
Perhaps the only vestige of his past self remaining is his rather polite demeanor, often eerily so.
He is more a man of action rather than words, typically the quiet type that speaks only when nessecary, or when spoken to.
Unlike most other devotees of the ruinous powers, Jake views the dark gods as benefactors whom can give him the power and knowledge he needs to pursue his own goals, rather than forces that innately deserve worship and veneration. Despite this, the lengths he would be willing to go to in order to recieve the favor of the the ruinous are nonetheless few and far between.
Despite how warped and twisted he may be, his love for Mary holds strong. Any who try to seduce him or merely suggest he partake in any action unfaithful to his beloved wife, shall either be met with hostility, or pursued with a ravenous vengeance by Jacob.
There are times that the man that was bleeds through; often when he is thinking of Mary, but only for fleeting moments at a time.
Biography: There was a woman.
She loved him, and he loved her.
She was taken from him and he tried to save her-- and the rest is none of their fucking business.
If anyone were to ask Jacob Elijah Moore about his past, that's all he'd be willing to tell them.
Jake was a simple man, living a simple life on the world of Wessar IV... An honest fellow that didn't smoke, drink, or even swear. He was a truely kindhearted and honest man, through and through; a true rarity in the grimdark 41st millennium. During the time Jake had lived there, Wessar IV had been something of a death world to the imperium. Though the surface of the planet was home to vast expanses of deserts, plains, and mountains; no large concerted effort bad ever been made to tame these lands, likely due to the small warp storms that would form and disperse every so often across it's surface, rendering such an effort likely doomed to fail, especially considering the already highly aggressive flora and fauna of the planet.
Most men of working age on this harsh planet would dedicate their lives to herding the massive hordes of the more placid animals that roamed the ever stretching plains. These men were dubbed 'wranglers', and Jake was one such man. They would spend their days on horseback, equipped with electrified lassos, knifes, and variants of the bolt pistol; designed reminiscently (and out of sheer coincidence) like the iconic six-shooter pistols that were once a staple of the ancient cowboys of Terra, defending the herds from the many threats that stalked the expanses of the untamed wilds.
It was a bleak way to live, as hundreds of wranglers would likely die every day to the elements, and depression was constantly looming over the heads of those that lived, threatening to drag them into its unfathomable depths. Some days, Jake swore he'd have long since lost his mind if it weren't for his one true love, Mary Fitzgerald; a fiery redhead that had claimed his heart back when they were children. Every three months, wranglers were allowed to return to their homes and see their families for a solar week before being sent back into the wilds. And each time he'd return to his beloved, she would be waiting for him on the front steps of their simple homestead, a bright smile on her face as he stepped into her loving embrace.
She was six months pregnant with their child when Jake would see her for the last time. He was riding toward their simple homestead in the dead of night, a pale moon painting the small settlement silhouette with an eerie light. It was quiet.... Almost as if the hustle and bustle of life within the town had been smothered to a whisper. By the time he'd seen them, it was already too late to act upon the foreboding dread that had been building in his chest. Illuminated in the moonlight, thin humanoid figures clad in black armor were accompanied by, large, malformed creatures, brutes that moved with pained, and unnatural limping. Grasped tightly within the hand; if it could even be called that, of one of these grotesque abominations, was the limp shape of woman, the red hue of her draping locks just ever so slightly discernable through the darkness. A blazing inferno surged to life within the core of the lone rider's soul as he drew his pistols in defiance, and opened fire.
Not a single shot hit it's mark.
One of the dark figures raised the unmistakable shape of weapon, as its masked face radiated a spiteful smile of cruel amusement. Had Strider not reared up in fear that exact moment, Jake's head would've been blown clean off. Tearing through the horse's neck, whatever the xeno had fired glanced off Jacob's right cheek, causing an excruciating pain unlike any he'd ever felt before in his life. As the night slowly faded away into nothingness, the man could only watch; paralyzed in agony, as the jagged black ships took off into the void of space, leaving the town burning, leaving the man to writhe as if they were mocking the futility of his attempt. By the time Jake had come to, the xenos raiders had long since left, the town nothing more than smouldering cinder.
Three days he trudged on foot through the blistering heat of the desert sun, and against all odds he made it to the nearest neighboring settlement after no less than seven close calls with death.
The man Jake used to be died out in the sands. The man that survived being a twisted reflection of his former self, one that sought a darker, more potent power, that he may reclaim his beloved Mary.
As days stretched into weeks, and weeks into months, the former wrangler eventually found himself in the employ of the merchant Euromulus Krynne; working upon one of the merchant's many ships as a security detail.
Little did he know that his employer had more in store for the man known as Jacob Elijah Moore...
Other:
Westar Pattern Bolt Pistols: Unlike the more traditional pattern of bolt pistol, Jake's Westar pattern bolt pistols boast higher accuracy and range, at the expense of a longer reload time, and a strict limit of holding a meager six shots at any time.
Electrified Lasso: A staple tool amoung the wranglers of Wessar IV, this lasso is made from the fibres harvested from a specific bioelectric carnevorous plant native to Wessar IV. Though it does not innately hold an electric charge, its impressive ability to carry voltage is utilized via the specially made gloves of wranglers. When all five fingertips of a wrangler's glove come into contact with the lasso, a powerful and paralyzing electric shock is delivered to the ensnared target. When using all five fingertips of both gloves, the shock delivered is that of near-lethal level; making it increadibly useful when fighting off the death world's indigenous wildlife. As a precaution to protect wranglers from electrocuting themselves with their own weapon, the circuitry of the gloves extends into the inner vest, as well as the pants and boots of a wrangler's garb; subsequently grounding them.
Supplementary Bandoliers: Out on the frontier, it's not often that you'll get any more ammunition than what's on your person at the time, subsequently, Jake wears a pair of leather bandoliers, each from shoulder to hip between his outer coat, and inner vest.
@Bloodrose I hadn't really envisioned it as grandiose as that, especially in the department of powers. I had him more or less pegged as a relatively simple and lackluster gunslinger on a scary black horse. 'Strider' really only existed to provide him a mount that would be consistantly available throughout the campaign. Any other other changes that may have come across as gifts were strictly for aesthetic purposes. However, I'm still fully willing to rework the sheet into something you're more comfortable with.
I'll get the rewritten version out sometime tonight, or tomorrow.
Name: Titus Ramsay Age: 28 Sex: Male Position within The Imperium of Man: Inquisitorial Scribe of the Ordo Malleus Appearance: 5'10", with messy black hair, and hazel eyes. Not particularly well built, and very faintly tan skin.
His outermost layer is that of a classic inquisitorial trenchcoat, free of most inquisition iconography save for a golden Aquila adorning his right shoulder -- as he has yet to earn any beyond that. On his left forearm, is a vambrace shaped cogitator that manages the controls to his refractor field as well as his assisted targeting system, its many buttons glow a soft, dull red. Beneath the trenchcoat lies a lightweight variant of the ceremite plate used by inquisition stormtroopers; sacrificing sturdiness for mobility, as the weight of the normal armor plating would likely prove cumbersomely heavy to Titus. The dark and dulled coloration of the ceramite makes the plating almost blend into the shadows cast by the trenchcoat. On the back of his left hip is a leather fannypack, concealing his modified refractor field.
Armor:
Light Ceremite half plate -- a lighter variant of the ceremite armor worn by Inquisition stormtroopers (visual appearance under description).
Modified Refractor Field -- standard issue refractor field, retrofitted to allow better utilization of the N.F.E.
Weapons:
Plasma pistol-- standard issue plasma pistol
Ornate Power Rapier-- a small lightweight version of the power sword, makes a better status symbol than weapon.
Equipment:
Vambrace cogitator with holographic image display (and a flashlight).
Assisted targeting eyepiece.
Null Field Emitter-- A necron artifact that dampens all warp related effects with 10 feet. It never leaves Titus' side. Can be used through refractor field to completely negate an oncoming warp related attack/effect 3 times per every 12 hours before needing to recharge. Passive nullification effect scales in relation to remaining charge.
Personality: Somewhat Niave, excessively curious, and generally a polite and jolly fellow. Suffers from hemophobia and has never taken a life.
Well the reason I asked, is because some time before he adopts the WAAAAGHcry; "BLOOD FOR DA BLOOD ZOG!" Oofla (my ork) is going to decide (in his infinite orkish wisdom) that he can go FASTA by putting the red paint inside him. Essentially I wanted to figure how it would taste to him, make his body react, etc.
TLDR: Ork decides drinking paint is a good idea.
But yes, later he is only going to use blood to paint everything.
So I've started writing my khornate Bikemek ork, and have run into something I dont know about ork kulture-- WHAT THE FUCK DO ORKS MAKE THEIR PAINT OUT OF??? I searched the wikis, lexicanium, reddit, everywhere I can think of and cant find an answer.
Coming Soon!
(or whenever I get off my lazy ass)
Here's a couple neat memes while you wait:
[hider=meme]
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TUrzIUC8g_M&t=76s[/youtube]
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Nct_vRTjlA[/youtube]
[/hider]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Coming Soon!<br><br>(or whenever I get off my lazy ass)<br><br>Here's a couple neat memes while you wait: <br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="meme">meme [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><iframe src="//youtube.com/embed/TUrzIUC8g_M?theme=dark" frameborder="0" width="496" height="279" allowfullscreen></iframe><br><iframe src="//youtube.com/embed/0Nct_vRTjlA?theme=dark" frameborder="0" width="496" height="279" allowfullscreen></iframe></div></div></div>
Member
Cu Chulainn
Zeroth