HokumPocus

The Saltaire District

Irvine

A set of tired and piercing eyes framed by masculine features, Irvine would be considered a reasonably attractive man if he kept his mouth shut and put effort into his appearance besides the bare minimum hygiene required for work. His hair is dramatically slicked back to be out of the way and formal.

"Don't worry, I'll fix you up... as long as you let me get a good look first."

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Irvine Wellington

29 / M

Human

Medic

The Saltaire district and the land around it have yet to make any large strides in the refinement of health and medicine, and many practitioners have been forced to accept brutish methods for what they are and hope for the best. Except for Irvine. One of the best medics in his town, Irvine isn’t just satisfied with his work, but downright gleeful about it at times. To Irvine, nothing beats putting people back together the good old fashioned way. He’s certainly talented in healing through magical means, but prefers to fall back on it as a last resort. Why mess with strange powers when bone saws and musty tonics are so readily available?

Irvine is an extroverted and curious man who struggles to socialize appropriately, often oversharing or overstepping boundaries. He doesn’t find anything about the human body disgusting and is fascinated by it to the point where it concerns others. He is friendly and eccentric, talking for the sake of talking.

Irvine grew up comfortably with two busy parents and an abundance of unsupervised leisure. His mom was a butcher and his dad put things together as a carpenter, and before long the fascination of both of their worlds coagulated into an intense appreciation for surgery. Despite murmurs of his satisfaction having roots in the darker pleasures of life, Irvine remains adamant in insisting that he just enjoys repairing what's broken. Irvine's claims are honest, and much like a tailor enjoys the craftsmanship of sewing swaths of cloth together to form a finished piece, he enjoys stitching skin and sinew to assist his patients.

He is no stranger to the world of adventuring having been one himself in his younger years, albeit as a cleric rather than anything more heroic in nature. Some of the older adventurers in town are still able to recall their encounters with Irvine and his reluctance to rely on magic despite its benefits. This former job and the frequent quarrels that it caused left a bitter taste in his mouth, leading him to live a more independent and stationary lifestyle as a local medic. Through a combination of hard work and incredible passion he has grown into a definite professional, although there might be a sense of hesitation in asking for his assistance.

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In his youth Irvine had brief stints of working as a cleric for hire with mixed results. A set of drab robes the color of dying straw are still in his possession. They are quite resistant to magic and allow him to cast spells more effectively, at the cost of offering no protection against physical attacks. A personal notebook with shorthand scrawls indecipherable to anyone but himself is also in his possession, intended to assist him in magical endeavors in case he forgets a word here or there. This is backed by a steel rod the size of an arm used as a magical staff.

He unsurprisingly carries basic medical supplies with him, his favorite bone saw included.

Irvine has carved out a niche for himself with the vast amount of knowledge he has amassed over the inner workings of the human body throughout the years, including the magical and non-magical ways to mend it. He has a dextrous pair of hands and a very high pain tolerance, as well as the ability to sneak around undetected. Like many talented medics, the occasional grave robbery for the sake of education is sometimes needed to develop his craft.

Irvine is able to magically heal wounds, but prefers to stitch them up or repair them as much as possible beforehand through traditional methods to conserve his energy. His healing spell is his primary and strongest spell. He is also capable of casting a minor spell that muffles noise, but prefers to keep it to himself to not raise questions.

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N/A

Roleplay about being trapped inside a roleplay: Adventures from the Place Holder

Activity in this rp has ceased to a point where I've considered it to be dead for awhile now unfortunately

The Sanctuary

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Ar´oa wore an inquisitive gaze at the sight before him. Countless hours had gone by since having infiltrated the ancient temple, and on the opposite end of the long stone corridor was an exit. The light that emanated from this opening was white and gentle, nothing like the ruthless and golden sun of the wastelands that he had spent his whole life surviving in. He lowered his ornamental lantern onto the ground, letting its sapphire embers extinguish through a small magical cue. His steps towards the strange light were careful and tense. None of the various artifacts worn throughout his body had given any sort of indication that the opening contained harm.

He uttered a small growl of annoyance with his canine jaw at how bizarre this expedition had resulted. Either what was on the other side was harmless, or a powerful entity was awaiting its next victim. Ar´oa, however, was not deterred by the possible danger involved. Large risks needed to be taken if it meant lifting the curse that had haunted his clan for generations. With several more steps forward, he approached the rectangular blast of light.

What had surrounded him was a painting from a storybook brought to life. The verdant grass and towering forests and gentle weather. The air soft and easy to breath, with no debris or filth of any sort. What was perhaps the most astonishing sight however, was the enormous castle not too far in the distance.

Ar´oa, like many Anubis, was well acquainted with legends and stories. And as soon as he had understood what the castle in front of him represented, he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. This was no malicious illusion conjured forth by one of The Wasteland´s many hateful supernatural entities. It was a sanctuary meant for powerful warriors. Or at least, that was the variation of the story that had been passed down to him. The sanctuary also explained why he felt the memory of his actions from moments ago blurring harshly. Try as he might, whatever temple he had been exploring had regained its forgotten state.

Ar´oa neared the steps to the castle after a brief sprint and felt intensely curious at the other guests before him. Just by juxtaposing their appearances it was apparent that whoever was in control of the building had eyes all across the land. He thought of how strange he must have appeared to them, as a slender and gaunt anubis of nearly nine feet in height. His robes and their vivid blue color were slightly less eye-catching than the gaudy accessories his kin enjoyed decorating themselves in, but a canine face and a pair of onyx eyes marked him as not the typical visitor of a castle.

The pair spoke loudly compared to the typical whispers of one anubis to another. Rather than a standard introduction, Ar´oa began by addressing the construct in front of them, as it was most likely the one responsible for granting them passage to the inside.

"I am grateful for having received an invitation to this sanctuary. In truth, I had thought of it to have only been a fable. Curiously enough, it seems that I and several others have received an invitation at roughly the same time. It is a pleasure to meet you."

His canine head turned to the pair near him in curiosity, speaking with a deep and tranquil voice. He wondered whether it would be difficult for them to understand his subtler facial expressions.

Zombieland Saga RP (Open)

thinking of making an former yakuza who likes cute shit and explosions

The Saltaire District

ma´am your code is broken

EDIT: it works when I copy it pretend I didnt write that teehee

The Five Senses

Initially he wanted to get out of guard duty, but realized it would be too suspicious for one of the least injured members to not volunteer and is now offering to do it out of feeling backed into a corner

The Five Senses

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While the aftermath of their skirmish had left many with physical wounds, Octavio had managed to survive with nothing but mental exhaustion. That´s not to say that he was in a healthy condition, just that he didn´t have to deal with blood being where blood shouldn´t be. He had spent most of the time afterwards massaging his eyelids in an effort to restore his aching mind back to its typical state.

He reached forward and delicately spread a layer of jam onto a hunk of bread. It was just one of his many refined mannerisms that had become a habit from his adventures in infiltrating the spaces of the wealthy. Sugar was the best fuel for the imagination, and Octavio was surely going to need a lot of it if he wanted to get out of this mess alive. It wasn't restricted to combat either. His tongue would have to be as tactical as ever if he hoped to get out of the guard duty that his unlikely allies had been proposing.

Chres had finished preparing a stew for them to eat, warning everyone present not to raise their expectations too much. It had managed to make Octavio chuckle, although not for the reasons anyone would've assumed. Octavio had always had a horrendous sense of smell, and because it was so closely related to taste, both of the senses suffered. As a result, most scents and foods registered as "adequate" to him with little to no distinction. He stared at the stew with hunger, aware that it would taste the same as any other stew from any other part of the world. He ate the rest of his bread with jam with his body splayed out in a manner that was both full of confidence and exhaustion. The rest of his meal could wait for now.

"I dislike Gin and his theatrics, but I wouldn´t consider him a priority." he said, in between bites. Even the way that he ate had a bravado to it. "If Gin were to wake up one morning and decide to kill us, then we'd simply just die. He had confidential background information on all of us, as well as powerful magic and no qualms with using it capriciously while angering and ordering around a group of powerful people." He began to spread jam onto another hunk of bread after looking around the room to confirm that most of them had processed his words.

"We´re alive because he wants us to be, so we should focus on other things for now."

He was a man who had frequently been on both ends of manipulation and spoke in a way that was more earnest than their previous exchanges and a departure from his usual and more jovial attitude. To him it was obvious that he was going to be stuck around the party for a lot longer than he had bargained for, so this sort of gradual opening up was no longer a mistake but a begrudging necessity. And, although he would never admit it, he was definitely envious at the man and his power. It was the first time in a long time he had actually respected someone. His mind had recalled the events of their first and only encounter and that condescending little attitude of his. Despite having told an entire room of people to put him in the back burner, Octavio was perhaps the most motivated to find a way to kill him. Meeting someone with so much power over him felt infuriating.

He waited for some moments for conversations to unfold around the room, mulling over his next course of action. It seemed as if most of his companions had suffered various physical injuries, and even with the presence of a healer it would be hard to say if they were well equipped to engage in combat for the time being. With this in mind, his next move felt like the only one he could perform without ruining their trust in him.

"I was dextrous enough with my illusions to avoid taking any damage outside of a handful of scrapes and bruises. I can't possibly promise the same amount of prowess if I were to fight again tonight, but it would be for the best if someone who was in better condition were to play the role of a guard. Please, rest for now while Chres and I protect you."

It left a weird taste in his mouth, having told something so truthful. Lynx, who was thankfully napping on the floor, would have definitely given him quite a mouthful of snark had he heard him just now.

The Saltaire District

interested

Zombieland Saga RP (Open)

interested.. O w O

Dawne | A Japanese School Life RP

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Da Skool
April 3rd, 2018 | 6:50 AM

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"Shh Kazuto-kun... it´s like I can sense her in the area." Tsubasa´s finger was gingerly placed on top of her lips, a clear symbol of wanting to be as stealthy as possible... at six in the morning surrounded by dozens of students. Girl´s Life Monthly magazine had said that an old friend would be met again under different circumstances in the Aquarius section. It also said that her lucky number was six and that she´d get indigestion, but those tidbits weren´t important right now. What was important was that a girl with a brown blob of hair had chained her bike to a rack in the distance, and unlike the other two times where it had been a total stranger, this time it was Kotone. Or at least in her heart it was. She hadn´t actually interrogated the far off figure yet.

"It´s her. It has to be. That unintentional moe reminiscent of the girl next door archetype, that ever so slightly feminine way of walking. Or maybe I just have to mess up five times before finding her." remarked Tsubasa, more to her than to Kazuto. There was a grimness to her remarks, as if she were a soldier determined to follow the warrior´s code of Girl´s Life Monthly until the bitter end. She gripped Kazuto´s wrist and stared at him dead in the eyes. Once she managed to get speed going, there was no stopping the Tsubasa crazy train. "Quickly! We have to catch up to her!"