Mistory

Life in a strange realm

Name:
Abel
Appearance:

Big image!

Age:
???
Gender:
None, identifies as Male
Race:

Gruesome

A simple name for a rather complex creature, "The gruesome" is a very accurate title. Carnivorous scavengers appearing all across the world, little is known of their origins. Only that their kind often appear in places of great tragedy, from single creatures to small groups of around 4 or 5 individuals.

Sentient, these creatures tend to feed off the raw flesh of the dead, usually finding their meals from battles and graveards. They do attempt to comune with the civilized, and some have even became traders, selling gear and equipment scavenged from their feeding grounds.

Unfortunantly, with many fearing these ghoul-like creatures, for reasons like their diet, their reclusive nature toward other species, and the rumors of Some activly hunting humans, interaction with the species as a whole is very limited, and knowledge is difficult to come by.

The Gruesome, with their widely varying appearances, healing capabilities,and malleable forms becoming the interest of many scholars. What information that has been rather common in the varying studies is as below:

-Most specimens stand between 5ft to 7ft tall

-They seem to bear no gender, but do identify as the common gender specific roles of male and females

-They appear to be an amalgamation of flesh and bone

-Their limbs are malleable, allowing for the sharpening, hardening, and general reshaping of the limbs
Wounds tend to heal rather quickly, some limbs even regenerating after a large enough mass of flesh is eaten

-Fire tends to cause severe, and possibly lethal damage.

-Wounds made by a bronze blade seem to be unable to heal in the usual quick manner, taking several weaks for such wounds to completly heal, depending of severity

Magic:
n/a
Personality:
unknown.( I'm not entirely sure. i haven't gotten the feel for the character yet...)
Background:
Gruesome are scavengers by nature. they prowl about battlefields and graveyards for food, feeding off the dead. with the recent rise in slaughter, you would think they would be happy. However, with each new corpse a plague is spreading. those touched by a demon are poisoned by its malice, is power, and the gruesome are not meant to take in such...poison.
Those of the gruesome who have fed on the demons remains have...changed. they have become more hostile, more dangerous. More have began hunting live prey, and become irrational, their bodies tainted by the demonic air that rips through the land. With the demon lord's army every changing, it seems their may be no end to what is taking his people. Abel must stop it, before they all fall to the blight that taints them.
Equipment:
n/a
Theme:
tbd

Mecha Commando Rp

The Crystal's Call

you wouldnt happen to be accepting would you?

Escape From Eden

Interested

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

With a nod, Midas gave a smile. "Great. I'll be sure to pay you back for it. Not that words mean much anymore" he shook his head, and gave a sigh, before turning and moving to get cleaned up. He paused, however, and looked to the crouching girl who decided to lecture about manners. "...if i didnt have three broken ribs right now, i might take you seriously. But until i can breath properly again, being polite is the last thing on my mind. Talk to me again in two hours, i might have an apology for you. Until then, mind your own" he gave a harsh glare as he spoke, before turning, and heading away.

Getting a pale of water, he groaned, finding a spot to sit down as he began to clean his hands. Red ran off into the dirt quickly, and he sighed. Shaping up to be a good day...hope it stays that way

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

Ranch House, Unknown Location

The barrel of a gun is...actually a rather comfortable thing to see. These people are smart. Maybe this can work. Midas barely gives the gun a second glance, letting his eyes travel to its weilder. Afew years older than him, but cant be by much. He lets his eyes travel downward, examining the man from head to toe. Taking a long drag on his cigarette, before pulling it from his lips with blood coated fingers, letting the scent of smoke fill the doorway.

"Im not dead, so obviously you are a thinkin' group. Good. Be surprised how many stupid bandits get slaughtered cuz' they didnt think." He sighs, tapping the ashes away with the flick of his thumb, before snuffing the butt out on the guns barrel.

"Your Fucking with the wrong ashlander if your trying to intimidate. Especially with that eh...stutter you got there.If i wanted trouble, you'd already have it. So lets be blunt. Im tired, im sore, and im sick of dealing with cocky ass raiders trying to get an easy kill. So im gonna sit off on the other side of the path there" he points directly across from the house, in plain view of, well, everything" and im gonna let myself heal. Put a gun on me if you really need to, I dont care. I just wanna ask, do you have any water? I need to get this shit off my hands..."

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

I should probably wait to post again right?

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

Snuffing out the remains of a cigarette in the soil, midas groaned, sitting on the hood of an old truck. In the distance he could see the smoke rising from his prior residence, and grumbled. Fuckin' raiders. Pulling one of the three canteens he nicked off his attackers, and took a swig. Some good 'shine.
Capping his drink, he stood, popping his joints as he prepared to move out. He turning, his attention fell on a neglected ranch, and he paused. Leaning back against he truck, he ran a hand across his jaw, and grumbled. He needed a place to recooperate. And he could still feel the broken ribs shifting. Shit...

Ranch House, Unknown Location

Populated. But these people arent bearing a mark. Not raiders...what the hell are they doing here then? Must have plenty of supplies to have so many people. A comunity? Would have noticed them on his last pass through. Hmmm...
As Midas stepped onto the ranch grounds, he gave a glance around.there were kids here. Didnt look like a type lived here. Didnt look like they were to dug in either. Lighting up a cigarette, he took in a drag, and sighed. No buisness being discreet. Would only make them more weary...the forward approach seemed best here.
Wihout giving a glance for anyone outside, his foot rapidly banged on the front door of the main house.
"Oi! Lookin' for the boss around here. Lookin' to talk"

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

A groan escaped a mound of debris, before rubble shifted a crumbled on itself. From underneath came a man, late teens atleast, dawning a ragged black shirt, barely able to consider it clothing and not rags, and a worn pair of cargo pants,in abit better condition. He groaned, running a hand through his mess of ashen gray hair. Pulling a a bag from the crumbling ruins of he rose from, he snarled, finding his last bottle of booze had been shattered in the prior nights events. Whole bag was doused in it. Need a good wash or risk it catching fire...

"Ah fuck..." Cigarettes soaked too. Burn far to quickly to use. So he was out of booze, and smokes. Fuckin bandits. Maybe he'll find something on one of them. A smoke atleast. Looking across the small band of assholes who thought it a good idea to try and kill him, he sighed, standing and brushing himself off. Tearing what shreds remained of his shirt away,he stepped down from his mound of brick and stone.

Some of the rubble was still smoking, and he figured the sun would be rising soon. Not much time before more would come to scavenge the area. He was kinda disapointed to lose the place. It wasnt much. An old tower station. Barely a ten by ten brick building. But it was cozy. Was...now it was barely identefiable. Ah well. Smoke will draw attention soon. Better get ready to roll.

After spending some 20 minutes scrounging about the 7 bloody corpses, he was pleased to have found a pack and a half of smokes, and two canteens worth of shine. "Pains in the ass,but I admit. You poor bastards always deliver on the goods"

Glancing across the small battlefield one last time, he sighed. He had to mark it. Mutalist way and all that. Another ten minutes passed, and one Midas worth was leaving the..."crime scene". Any poor soul to come across the scene would be greeted with three crusifixtions, Each decapitated, each with there internals dangling a foot from the dirt. The remaining four were dismembered and strewn around the soil at the three's base.

A puff of smoke rose from the man as he walked away, the sun beginning to rise in the distance, hia hands dripping red...

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

Thank you! I figured as much,but i wanted to be sure!
Also, i apologize for all the questions! I would have asked prior but these only came about when writing my post! I hope im not a bother ^^'